Shameful Desires 1: Enslaved ($17.95, ISBN: 978-1-60381-493-5, 288 pp., 5″ X 8″ Trade Paperback) by P.J. Proud, is a ground-breaking erotic, gay BDSM romance tailored to please both gay men and the growing ranks of women who enjoy gay male erotica.
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“Even though it’s long, this book is a quick read. The sex is hot, hot, hot, and even the spanking was a turn-on.” Read more …
–Mandy, The Forbidden Bookshelf
P.J. Proud writes in an elegant style: innovative, literary, and lyrical. The story itself does not disappoint. The intense sex play and on-again off-again romance between the two complicated and compelling protagonists will keep readers guessing—and panting for more. Those who become hooked on the first book will be delighted to hear that two more episodes are coming their way in 2011 and 2012.
Jeremy Piper has idolized Andre Jackson for years, and now Andre is acting in Jeremy’s movie. But the fledgling screenwriter is quickly disillusioned with the flesh-and-blood actor, who strikes him as rude and narcissistic. When the talk turns to bondage scenes, Andre throws down the gauntlet, swearing he can break Jeremy’s will with erotic spanking. Jeremy refuses to submit and the chase is on, with a determined Andre bent on bringing Jeremy to heel. With his life spiraling out of control, Jeremy can no longer resist Andre’s challenge. The scene that follows changes them both, revealing Jeremy’s deep-seated desire to submit and Andre’s equally strong need to dominate. Submersed in subspace, Jeremy begs Andre to make love to him, to own him, and Andre can’t refuse his willing, handsome slave. Thus begins their romance. Events and their own proud natures will conspire to tear them apart. Andre has a fiancée, Jeremy a wife. Will they ever come to terms with their shameful desires?
Always hungry for ways to create more sparks in life, P.J. PROUD enjoys drawing and painting in addition to writing, music, exercise (a fanatic!), skiing, getting lost in the woods (thanks to being directionally impaired), helping people, and spending as much time with family as possible. P.J. has been writing gay-themed short stories, novellas, fan fiction and poetry for over two years. This first novel is a coming-out story of sorts, penned from a dream and a haunting lyric, I drew a new face and I laughed, from a Jason Mraz song called “I’m Yours,” which urged the author to take a chance and change the stars. You can find P.J. online at www.pjproud.com.
The Kindle version ($4.95) and paperback edition of Enslaved are available on Amazon.com as well as Amazon.de, Amazon.fr, Amazon.co.uk, and Amazon Japan. Books can also be purchased by contacting email@example.com or through Ingram or Baker & Taylor. Other electronic versions can be purchased on Smashwords ($4.95) and from most major online ebook retailers.
Keep Reading for an Excerpt:
He’d always written for fun, for pleasure, poems, short stories and even a couple of novellas but once his marriage turned sour—
Well, it became as necessary as breathing.
It was the only place where he felt safe, untouchable, where he could create and play to his heart’s content, where he was a god and characters did his bidding, acted the way he wanted.
Where it was once a hobby, now it was a compulsion, trying to work through the blackness that lived inside him through words, sinking deeper and deeper into his own world, putting on the good husband face for Evie, putting on his patient, caring face for his job and not giving a shit about either one of them, truth be told … just going through the motions. The only thing he really cared about, that stirred any kind of excitement in his heart, was writing.
Well, that … and Andre.
He’d written the story for Andre. He’d changed his life, broken his marriage, and risked his job … all for Andre.
Jeremy was in love with him.
He doesn’t know how it happened, hell, he wasn’t gay or anything, nope, he fully appreciated the beauty of the female anatomy, tits especially and he’d been taken off guard, thrown for a loop at the intensity of his feelings for another man, the fucking rawness of it surging inside him, scaring the shit out of him.
Jeremy had seen Andre on TV, a medical show and he freaking hated those but the man’s presence caught him, held him and stopped him in his tracks, made him drop into a chair, open mouthed, blown away by the guy’s looks and sheer talent and right then and there, he’d fallen in love.
The man’s delivery of even the simplest lines was mind blowing and watching him for five minutes told Jeremy everything about the character he was playing, every fear and worry, every love and want, and damn, it took his breath away.
He fascinated Jeremy.
And the more Jeremy watched, the more his intensity grew. Andre could bring him through such a range of emotions in a single scene, have Jeremy laughing at a sarcastic remark and then two seconds later, move him to stinging tears with a mere look, a lift of eyebrow, a quiver of lips.
It also didn’t hurt that Andre Jackson was fucking gorgeous.
In his mind, Jeremy knew there was no way he’d ever meet him, ever know him but he’d spent over a year dreaming about it, hoping to one day stare into those green eyes, watch those gorgeous lips up close and maybe, just maybe, get the chance to touch Andre, to shake his hand or talk with the man.
He spent hours on the computer, scouring websites for information on Andre, hungry for each tidbit of news, learning everything Jeremy could about him and falling harder, deeper with each new face, each new quirk to the man’s personality.
Andre was almost a god in Jeremy’s eyes, so perfect, so stunning that it never even occurred to Jeremy that he shouldn’t be in love with him—
Even though he had man parts and Jeremy wasn’t gay—
Even though Jeremy was turning into a crazy ass stalker who probably should be locked up—
Even though he couldn’t figure out just who he was in love with, the doctor in the show or the real man.
You know him, in your gut, in your heart. You see the secrets and passion in those eyes, the promises of more. The little voice in Jeremy’s head was relentless, making him insane.
For some reason, Jeremy felt like meeting Andre would change his life.
Each week, he hung on every word, every scene, worrying about the dismal ratings of the show and scared about cancellation because without seeing Andre every week, Jeremy would be lost.
Then, a dream in the night, a story took hold and he’d written it fast and furious, pounding out the words at all hours of the day and night, driven to finish because he was writing it for Andre; he was the hero of Jeremy’s story and no one else could play it like Andre could.
He’d honed it, tugged and pushed at it, then sent it off to publishers, with little hope of a reply but he was sated and exhausted. It was out of him and that was that, as far as he was concerned.
He kept working dog hours, trying to make ends meet, smiling at the thousands of faces that crossed his path each day, trudging home exhausted each night, trying to write into the wee hours of morning, trying to recapture his muse but Evie would stare at him, pace around behind his back, whining that he never had time for her, never wanted to talk with her anymore, to make love anymore and that he wasn’t there for her.
What the hell did that mean? He was there, always had been there, never left, just pulled back on the reins a little because he’d fallen in love—
With a character on the television screen and how fucking sick was that?
And then, the letter … “accepted your submission … provide us with agent name so that we may make an offer …”
And the publication, the sudden fame. Book signings and television interviews, newspaper articles and magazine write-ups and his life had suddenly changed, different, scary and exhilarating at the same time. When he’d been contacted for a screen play, he’d almost passed out from excitement—
Until contract time and he’d held out for Andre, wouldn’t sign a thing until they had him in place for the lead.
It had taken months but he’d finally done it and his sister, a legal assistant, covered his ass with the contracts and the paperwork, not letting him sign until they’d given him everything he’d demanded and then—
Well, then he’d finally gotten to meet the love of his life, the only person he’d ever be gay for—
The man himself.
And he’d been—
Jeremy didn’t like to remember that time. Andre had been cold, barely meeting his eyes, reserved and so fucking standoffish that Jeremy, able to talk the ears off anyone, was speechless, at a loss.
They’d met in an office, Jeremy in jeans with his laptop over his shoulder and Andre in a suit, rushing to catch a plane.
After they’d shaken hands, Jeremy had stuttered about what a pleasure it was to finally meet him, always admired his work and Andre had giving him a searching look, a dart of puzzled green eyes before pumping his hand fast and dropping it, like Jeremy felt nasty or something—
And Andre had muttered out polite words, lips barely moving, the smile on them not reaching his gaze, “It’s a pleasure to meet you and thank you for giving me this opportunity. I’m, ah, a little confused about why you insisted on me but glad it worked out with the shooting schedule and hey, great story, man, truly, you’re very talented—”
And then he was gone, just like that and Jeremy deflated, his high hopes crashing down around his ears because Andre hadn’t even seen him—
And he’d shaken it off, sure that next time they met, it would be different—