Crave by Sierra Cartwright Excerpt and Giveaway

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She still craved him… The sight of a collar in her boyfriend’s drawer had stunned Sarah. Panicking, she had fled. But no other man has ever been his equal.

Two years ago, the woman he’d hoped to collar and marry disappeared. So Reece McRae is stunned to find his former girlfriend on her knees, behaving as the submissive he’d always wanted.

Is it too late? He should refuse her, but an undeniable sexual attraction consumes him.

Sarah had been under Reece’s spell from the moment she met him. When she found a steel collar in his drawer, she panicked. The idea of a lifetime of his relentless demands, sensual and otherwise, suffocated her.

In the years they’ve been apart, she hasn’t met his equal. Now, convinced one last night will vanquish his memory, she sets out to seduce him.

The Reece she returns to is even more determined to have his way. Is she now strong enough, brave enough, to surrender to his love?

Reader Advisory: This book contains sensual torment, flogging, anal sex and sex in public.


“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say. Spectacular in its stupidity. Borderline insane, even. You’ve had some idiotic moments in the last four years, but even for you, this is remarkable.” He waved a hand. “What in the hell are you thinking?”
Sarah hadn’t expected her old friend Julien to be wildly enthusiastic about her request to hook her up with her former boyfriend, but this? “Don’t hold back,” she returned, reaching for the bottle of wine. Like everything in Julien Bonds’ life, the Merlot, a brand she’d never heard of and couldn’t pronounce, was expensive.
“Sweetling, I haven’t even yet begun,” he said as she poured wine into her glass.
“Better than piranha, I should think.”
“Piranha?” she asked, stung. “Is that how you see me?”
“Well, you don’t really have the teeth for it, do you? So I settled for sweetling.”
“That doesn’t fit me, either.”
“You’re right. I’m back to the man-eating carnivore image, then.”
“Sweetling it is,” she agreed.
He grinned. He’d won this skirmish, but she intended to win the bigger battle.
Glass in hand, she sat back and curled her bare legs beneath her. The white leather couch was smooth, soft, more inviting than her host. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He had agreed to see her, even though she’d had to accommodate his bizarre schedule and leave a party she’d been attending in northern California.
When she’d exited his private elevator, the bottle had already been uncorked and waiting. So he wasn’t completely inhospitable.
Julien pressed his palms together and regarded her across his fingertips. Although it was in the ever-expanding heart of Silicon Valley, his sprawling office suite at 1, Bonds Street was every bit as eclectic as he was. The building itself was only a year old. Rather than opting for a traditional structure, Julien had instructed his team of architects to design something that looked more like a UFO than a corporate headquarters.
This portion of Julien’s space was streamlined, decorated in white, chrome and glass. A shocking blood-red rug that cost at least as much as her yearly mortgage payment was splashed across the white marble floor.
Here he had no clutter, not even a magazine.
His desk was about half of a football field away. Its vast surface was covered with electronics that looked as if they were in various stages of development.
A silk-screened Chinese partition blocked off the back of the room. Behind its expanse, she knew, was a creative and frightening workspace. She’d seen it once and had been taken aback by the disaster. Papers had been scattered on every flat surface, tossed on the floor, tacked to the walls, taped to the tables, wadded and tossed in the general direction of an overflowing garbage can.
A mattress, sheathed with twelve hundred thread-count sheets, lay shoved against a wall. He kept it on hand for the times—days—that he was so involved in a project that he didn’t go home.
It was a good thing his office had a shower and a closet full of suits as well as sweatpants. He could greet the President of the United States or do a presentation to the city council then go back to his slovenly and strange ways, including eating celery and peanut butter for two meals a day.
Still, he was the best sort of friend, and he had been since she’d first met him four years before. He’d had an appointment with her boss, Reece McRae, and he’d apologized for showing up early. She’d stood there, files clutched against her chest, speechless, trapped somewhere between star-struck and awestruck. But Julien had helped himself to a glass of Scotch and had told her tales of his college days with Reece.
In the hour it had taken Reece to arrive, Julien had charmed her and extracted all her secrets. Rather than turn up his nose at her financial struggle to put herself through college, he’d told her he admired her scrappy determination. She’d walked away from the meeting believing none of the nasty things said about him in the press, though he assured her that he really was an evil bastard who chewed the heads off his competitors.
Now, four years later, he’d be the first person she’d call if she needed bail money. She knew he’d insist on hearing all the gritty, salacious details before he sprang her loose. But he’d be there.
“I have to point out that there are more than seven billion people on the planet,” he continued, still regarding her. “I should think at least half of them are men. Even if you discount those who are outside your age range, married or gay, I’d say you could have your choice of, at least five hundred million eligible bachelors.”
“And you want one in specific.”
“Yes.” She took a drink of her wine. Reece.
“There has to be a line of men a dozen deep who want to take you out.”
“I don’t want to go on dates.” She sighed in exasperation. “Are you listening at all?”

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About Sierra Cartwright


Sierra Cartwright was born in Manchester, England and raised in Colorado. Moving to the United States was nothing like her young imagination had concocted. She expected to see cowboys everywhere, and a covered wagon or two would have been really nice!

Now she writes novels as untamed as the Rockies, while spending a fair amount of time in Texas…where, it turns out, the Texas Rangers law officers don’t ride horses to roundup the bad guys, or have six-shooters strapped to their sexy thighs as she expected. And she’s yet to see a poster that says Wanted: Dead or Alive. (Can you tell she has a vivid imagination?)

Sierra wrote her first book at age nine, a fanfic episode of Star Trek when she was fifteen, and she completed her first romance novel at nineteen. She actually kissed William Shatner (Captain Kirk) on the cheek once, and she says that’s her biggest claim to fame. Her adventure through the turmoil of trust has taught her that love is the greatest gift. Like her image of the Old West, her writing is untamed, and nothing is off-limits.

She invites you to take a walk on the wild side…but only if you dare.

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