Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway - Kinky Sprinkles by LA Witt

Welcome to the Riptide Publishing/L. A. Witt blog tour for Kinky Sprinkles!

Every comment on this blog tour enters you in a drawing for a choice of two eBooks off my backlist (excluding Kinky Sprinkles) and a $10 Riptide Publishing store credit. Entries close at midnight, Eastern time, on October 1^st. 

Contest is NOT restricted to U.S. entries.

Don’t forget to leave your contact info, and thanks for following the tour!

Kinky Sprinkles Blurb: 

Joel has finally walked away from his abusive ex and is ready to meet new people. But that isn’t easy for a guy who’s shy, self-conscious, and struggling with his body image. 

Andre has wanted Joel since the first time he laid eyes on him, and finally Joel is single. But Andre is a Dom and a sadist, and Joel is unapologetically vanilla. There’s no happy medium—either Andre reins in the kinky side that took him years to accept, or Joel grits his teeth and subjects himself to kinks that aren’t his thing. No matter who bends, someone’s going to be unhappy. 

They agree to walk away, but they keep circling back to each other. Though their kinks might not line up, the chemistry between them sizzles and the emotional connection keeps getting deeper. But none of that will get them anywhere if they can’t find some kind of middle ground in the bedroom. 

Kinky Sprinkles is available September 26^th from Riptide Publishing.

AMAZON

Exclusive Excerpt: 

Andre and Joel both took care of April while she was coming down from subspace. Joel made sure she was drinking water, and Andre carefully put lotion on the welts he’d left on her skin. She was woozy for a while, nearly drifting off in Andre’s arms a couple of times, but slowly she started coming back to earth. 

Once her legs were solid beneath her, Andre shooed them out of the playroom. 

“Go relax downstairs,” he said. “I’ll take care of everything up here.” 

April didn’t protest, and probably couldn’t have if she’d wanted to, so Joel took her down to the social area and carefully sat her on one of the couches. Her backside was definitely tender, and she pretty much sat on the side of her hip and draped her arm over the back of the couch. When he was sure she was as comfortable as possible, Joel went to get some more water. While he stood at the bar, he kept an eye on her, of course. She was only about ten feet away anyway; if anyone messed with her, or she started getting dizzy, he could be at her side in a matter of seconds. 

The bartender must’ve seen him bring April in and realized he was taking care of a spent sub, because he handed Joel a couple of water bottles and sent him on his way. That was kind of an unspoken thing here—even with a line, someone taking care of a person who’d just done a scene had priority, and their water was free. 

Joel returned with the water, as Nancy, a fiftysomething Domme Joel had met a few times, sat down with her submissive beside April. 

“Somebody’s been having fun,” Nancy said with a grin. 

“Uh-huh.” April smiled, looking like she was halfway between blissed out and tripping balls. “It’s been a good night.” 

“So I see.” 

Joel sat next to her, uncapped her water, and handed it over. 

“Thanks,” she murmured. 

Nancy glanced at her sub, a redheaded guy who was probably in his midthirties, and snapped her fingers toward the floor. Instantly, he went to his hands and knees in front of her, and she put her feet—high-heeled boots and all—on his freckled back. 

As subtly as he could, Joel looked away. To each their own, but he’d never quite been comfortable with the “human furniture” level of submission. Possibly because the thought of being on his hands and knees with someone’s feet on his back made his back and wrists hurt. He caught himself flexing one wrist, then the other, as if to remind himself it was the sub, not him, who’d be stiff and uncomfortable later. And he really did try not to judge. He’d seen a lot of things here that were not his cup of tea—and, to be fair, a handful of things that were—and reminded himself each time that as long as everybody involved was a consenting adult . . . well, more power to them. When he ran into the occasional kink that made him uncomfortable, it just served as a reminder that he was a fish out of water here. 

Beside him, April sat up and stretched. As she leaned back again, she rubbed her arm, which still had a few visible marks from the ropes. 

“Doing all right?” he asked. 

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded, gingerly kneading her forearm, and turned to him. “And why the hell are you down here instead of up there with you-know-who?” 

Joel almost choked, and he wasn’t even taking a drink. “I . . . Well, he’s cleaning up the room and—” 

“And that means it’s just him.” Her eyebrows rose. “So . . .” She gestured at the stairs. “He’s by himself.” 

“And you need someone to—” 

“Joel.” She looked him right in the eye. “I’m fine. Besides, Nancy is here.” 

As if for emphasis, Nancy nodded, smiling at Joel. 

April went on, “Andre is alone up there with a boner in his pants.” She gestured sharply toward the stairs again. “Go see if he’ll let you do something about it.” 

Joel hesitated, glancing at the stairs. Oh hell. What did he have to lose? If his dignity took a hit, all he had to do was never come back to this place, and nobody needed to twist his arm for that anyway. 

“All right.” To Nancy, he said, “Keep an eye on her, would you?” 

“Of course.” She winked. “Have fun.”

Or have a moment of excruciating humiliation, but hey, this is a dungeon, so why not? 

Okay, that wasn’t fair and he knew it. There were people here who loved humiliation—giving and receiving—and they did it because they wanted to. If he was humiliated tonight, it wouldn’t be because he was in a place of BDSM. It would be because he was casting his net in a pond he had no business fishing in. 

But . . . if some dignity was all he had to lose in exchange for a shot at Andre, he’d take the gamble, so he got up and headed for the stairs. His heart sped up as the old steps creaked under his feet. Ahead of him, the second level was alive with the sounds of more than one intense scene. Somebody was happily getting beaten. Somebody else was being punished. A normal evening. 

The door to room three was still open. He peered inside. Everyone else was gone, but Andre was there. He had his back to Joel as he wound a length of rope around his arm. 

Joel stepped in and cleared his throat. 

Andre turned, and when he saw Joel, smiled. “Oh, hey.” 

“Hey.” Joel slid his hands into his pockets and took another step into the room. “I, uh, just wanted to see if you needed help.” 

“No, I’ve mostly got it under control.” Andre tucked the coil of rope into his duffel bag. “How’s April? Is she doing all right?” 

“Yeah, yeah. She—” His voice caught. She sent me up here to see if I could get access to your dick? “Uh, yeah, she’s good. Like . . . like I said, she actually sent me up to see if you needed a hand.” His teeth snapped shut. 

Andre’s eyebrow rose just slightly. “Did she, now?” 

Joel nodded. 

A playful grin curled the corners of Andre’s mouth. “Anything in particular she thought you could help me with?” 

Funny you should ask. 

Wait. Did you two plan this? 

April, you are so dead. 

“Oh, you know . . .” Joel’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. “Just . . . uh . . .” He gestured at the ropes, floggers, towels, and empty water bottles. “If you—” When his gaze shifted back to Andre, there was less space between them. Wasn’t there? Had Andre moved? Or was it Joel’s imagination? 

Andre took another step. Nope, not Joel’s imagination. Nor was that wicked grin that was still on Andre’s lips. 

“You know, now that you mention it, I could think of a few things.” His expression wasn’t just wickedly playful now. It was downright predatory. 

Oh yes. Oh yes, please. 

“Yeah?” Joel gulped. “Such as?” 

“Well . . .” Andre reached for Joel’s waist. His palm warmed Joel’s skin through two layers of clothes, and Joel’s heart could not possibly have beat any faster. 

April, I could kiss you right now. 

Except I think he might want to kiss me. 

Does he? Oh please. Oh please . . . 

Andre subtly walked his fingers along Joel’s side, drawing him closer a fraction of an inch at a time. “Can I confess something?” He whispered the question so softly Joel couldn’t help leaning toward him. 

“G-go ahead.” 

Andre swept his tongue across his lips. “I am really glad you’re here tonight, and there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long, long time.”

  

About L.A. Witt: 

L.A. Witt is an abnormal M/M romance writer who has finally been released from the purgatorial corn maze of Omaha, Nebraska, and now spends her time on the southwestern coast of Spain. In between wondering how she didn’t lose her mind in Omaha, she explores the country with her husband, several clairvoyant hamsters, and an ever-growing herd of rabid plot bunnies. She also has substantially more time on her hands these days, as she has recruited a small army of mercenaries to search South America for her nemesis, romance author Lauren Gallagher, but don’t tell Lauren. And definitely don’t tell Lori A. Witt or Ann Gallagher. Neither of those twits can keep their mouths shut…  

L. A.’s backlist is available on her website, and updates (as well as random thoughts and the odd snarky comment) can be found on her blog or on Twitter (@GallagherWitt).