Fans of steamy reads with compelling characters will want to get caught up in the decadent life of The King by Tiffany Reisz. Keep reading to get a glimpse of this erotic read that was just released along with learning some in-depth secrets about it from Ms. Reisz. Make sure to fill out the form below for the chance to win a special prize from the author too!
LET'S LEARN MORE IN-DEPTH SECRETS ABOUT THIS BOOK.......
-What’s your favorite quote from THE KING?
Upon seeing sixteen-year-old Nora do bodily harm to an obnoxious teenage boy, Kingsley gets slightly aroused and says to himself, “You little sociopath, fuck me until I forget I’m French.”
Upon seeing sixteen-year-old Nora do bodily harm to an obnoxious teenage boy, Kingsley gets slightly aroused and says to himself, “You little sociopath, fuck me until I forget I’m French.”
-What was it like to write an entire novel from Kingsley's POV?
Fun! Kingsley is a joy to write. He feels everything deeply. Pain and pleasure and longing. He could have been a cliché, the French Don Juan, but more than anything he desperately wants to be a father. That tension between his libertine tendencies and his desire to have children make for some fun drama to write.
-Do you have a personal favorite character in the series that you like to write more about than the others?
Søren. I get so happy when I can put Søren in a scene. He just throws everyone and everything in a tizzy when he shows up and he’s just standing there in the center of the chaos being calm and stately and sadistic.
Fun! Kingsley is a joy to write. He feels everything deeply. Pain and pleasure and longing. He could have been a cliché, the French Don Juan, but more than anything he desperately wants to be a father. That tension between his libertine tendencies and his desire to have children make for some fun drama to write.
-Do you have a personal favorite character in the series that you like to write more about than the others?
Søren. I get so happy when I can put Søren in a scene. He just throws everyone and everything in a tizzy when he shows up and he’s just standing there in the center of the chaos being calm and stately and sadistic.
-Can you give us a concrete overview of what's next in store for this series or are there other projects as well that you're working on?
Yes! So…book seven in THE ORIGINAL SINNERS series is The Virgin. We already know that at a point in Mistress Nora’s past, before she was Mistress Nora, she and Søren got into the fight of fights, and she left him. She hid from him in her mother’s convent because no men are allowed inside and she knew she’d be safe there. While hiding out at the abbey, she meets a young beautiful novice who changes her life. Meanwhile Kingsley runs off to Haiti to lick his wounds after a personal crisis and meets Juliette. You get two erotic romances in The Virgin for the price of one! Nora and her young nun. Kingsley and Juliette.
Oh, and you see King and Søren wearing kilts. So there is that.
Yes! So…book seven in THE ORIGINAL SINNERS series is The Virgin. We already know that at a point in Mistress Nora’s past, before she was Mistress Nora, she and Søren got into the fight of fights, and she left him. She hid from him in her mother’s convent because no men are allowed inside and she knew she’d be safe there. While hiding out at the abbey, she meets a young beautiful novice who changes her life. Meanwhile Kingsley runs off to Haiti to lick his wounds after a personal crisis and meets Juliette. You get two erotic romances in The Virgin for the price of one! Nora and her young nun. Kingsley and Juliette.
Oh, and you see King and Søren wearing kilts. So there is that.
-Was there one book in the series that was harder to write than the others?
They were all nightmarishly hard to write and took twelve drafts, all of them. But The Siren was probably the hardest since I was starting from scratch. With the other books I at least had some characters I already knew to work with. The Saint was probably the next hardest simply because I had to throw out almost the entire first draft and start over. But that’s the book business for ya.
They were all nightmarishly hard to write and took twelve drafts, all of them. But The Siren was probably the hardest since I was starting from scratch. With the other books I at least had some characters I already knew to work with. The Saint was probably the next hardest simply because I had to throw out almost the entire first draft and start over. But that’s the book business for ya.
-What do you have in store for your readers once this series is finished?
So many weird wonderful books! I hope anyway. The book I just finished writing is called The Angels’ Share and it’s a story of forbidden love, bourbon, and revenge set in Kentucky. Erotic suspense!
So many weird wonderful books! I hope anyway. The book I just finished writing is called The Angels’ Share and it’s a story of forbidden love, bourbon, and revenge set in Kentucky. Erotic suspense!
Bouncing from bed to bed on the Upper East Side—handsomely paid in both bills and blackmail fodder—Kingsley Edge is brilliant, beautiful and utterly debauched. No carnal act or chemical compound can relieve his self-destructive apathy—only Søren, the one person he loves without limit or regret. A man he can never have, but in whose hands Kingsley is reborn to attain even greater heights of sin. He plans to open the ultimate BDSM club: a dungeon playground for New York's A-list that'll change the scene forever.
The club becomes Kingsley's obsession—and he's enlisted some tough-as-nails help. His new assistant Sam is smart, secretive and totally immune to seduction (by men, at least). She and Kingsley make a wicked team. Still, their combined—and considerable—expertise in domination can't subdue the man who would kill their dream. The enigmatic Reverend Fuller won't rest until King's dream is destroyed. It's one man's sacred mission against another's….
EXCERPT:
“King?” came a woman’s voice behind Kingsley. Without looking back he raised his hand and beckoned her inside. A beautiful young woman in a forties-style skirt and blouse stood next to his chair and waited.
He wrapped an arm around her hips and dragged her down to his lap.
“You’re interrupting,” he said to her. “Can’t you see how busy I am?”
“Oh, forgive me. I didn’t mean to interrupt your,” she glanced down at the table and back into Kingsley’s eyes, “card game?”
Kingsley pointed at Søren.
“Blaise, I would like you to meet my oldest and dearest friend…” he paused and looked at Søren when he realized he didn’t know if he was allowed to tell anyone Søren’sname. Out in the world he’d gone by the name his father had given him—Marcus Stearns. Even now he was Father Marcus Stearns, SJ according to church records. Sørenwas the name his mother had given him and few called him that. “Who the hell are you again?”
Søren stretched out his hand and took Blaise’s.
“Søren. Kingsley and I went to school together.”
“I’m Blaise,” she said and gave Søren her brightest smile and the most unapologetic bedroom eyes Kingsley had ever seen. So unfair. Why did Søren always turn every head in the room? Kingsley looked at Søren who today wore normal clothes. Normal? Black jeans, a fitted black long-sleeve t-shirt. They’d be normal clothes on anyone but Søren. In them, Søren looked like something out of a fever dream. He couldn’t blame Blaise for looking at Søren the way she did.
But he did wonder why Søren looked at her the same way.
“Blaise, might I inquire what you’re doing interrupting this incredibly important card game of mine?”
“Against my better judgment, I answered the phone and took a message for you. But don’t get any ideas that I’m your new secretary although you need to get a new secretary-”
“I will, chouchou. I promise.”
“You said that last week.”
“I got a new secretary last week.”
“Where is she?”
“She quit.”
“Did you fuck her?”
“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”
Blaise turned her attention back to Søren.
“Can you please tell your oldest and dearest friend to stop seducing his secretaries so they’ll stop quitting on him when they catch him fucking someone else?”
“Kingsley,” Søren said, shuffling the cards again. “Stop seducing your secretaries so they’ll stop quitting on you.”
“Thank you.” Blaise gave Søren a smile.
“My pleasure,” Søren said. Kingsley mentally slapped them both.
“Give me the message,” Kingsley said, running his hand up her thigh and caressing the bare skin above her flesh-tone stockings.
Blaise reached into her nearly translucent pale pink blouse and produced a folded note from inside her lace-trimmed bra.
Kingsley unfolded the note, still warm from her body and read.
Tonight at nine. - Phoebe
Kingsley tensed when he read the words and briefly considered lying his way out of the situation. She’d understand if he had to reschedule. He did have a guest after all. But no, he needed the leverage. He couldn’t risk losing this chance.
“I have to go,” Kingsley said to Blaise and Søren. “I won’t be gone long—an hour or so. You’ll keep my guest company, won’t you?” he asked Blaise.
“Happily.” Her thousand-watt smile brightened a few more watts. With her on his lap he could feel the heat emanating between her legs.
“Good. You two have so much in common, so much to talk about. Blaise, tellSøren what you do.”
“I run a non-profit,” she said, leaning forward on the table and resting her chin on her hand. The move allowed everyone in the room to get a much clearer view of her soft, ample cleavage.
“A non-profit?” Søren continued shuffling the cards while never once looking away from Blaise.
“Tell him what it does.” Kingsley pinched her on the thigh and she shuddered in pleasure. “Our Blaise is trés altruistic.”
“It’s called Slut Pride. We’re a non-profit that helps educate people about women’s sexual freedom, especially in regards to women’s participation in BDSM activities. Some people like to tell us that it’s not feminist to like to get flogged. I say it’s not feminist to tell a woman what she can and can’t do. Enough about me. What do you do?” she asked Søren.
“I’m a Catholic priest.”
Blaise said nothing. She gawked at Søren with her full red-lipped mouth ajar. And then she laughed, a warm throaty laugh that filled the room.
“You’re terrible. I almost believed you.”
Søren winked at Kingsley. Kingsley had never guessed Søren had this flirtatious side to him. Back in their school days Søren had been feared and envied by all the other boys and Søren had almost never spoken to anyone but the other priests. Kingsley realized that other than his sister, he’d never seen Søren around a beautiful woman before. Interesting. The man was human after all. Even if he was a priest.
“I must be off. You two chat, become friends. Blaise, peut-être you should explain BDSM to my friend. I’m sure he’ll find it fascinating.”
“I’m sure I will,” Søren said. “We’ll be fine, Kingsley. Have a lovely evening.”
Kingsley patted Blaise’s shapely bottom and she stood up and let him out. On his way from the dining room he heard Blaise asking Søren, “So what do you really do?”
And Søren replied, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
He wrapped an arm around her hips and dragged her down to his lap.
“You’re interrupting,” he said to her. “Can’t you see how busy I am?”
“Oh, forgive me. I didn’t mean to interrupt your,” she glanced down at the table and back into Kingsley’s eyes, “card game?”
Kingsley pointed at Søren.
“Blaise, I would like you to meet my oldest and dearest friend…” he paused and looked at Søren when he realized he didn’t know if he was allowed to tell anyone Søren’sname. Out in the world he’d gone by the name his father had given him—Marcus Stearns. Even now he was Father Marcus Stearns, SJ according to church records. Sørenwas the name his mother had given him and few called him that. “Who the hell are you again?”
Søren stretched out his hand and took Blaise’s.
“Søren. Kingsley and I went to school together.”
“I’m Blaise,” she said and gave Søren her brightest smile and the most unapologetic bedroom eyes Kingsley had ever seen. So unfair. Why did Søren always turn every head in the room? Kingsley looked at Søren who today wore normal clothes. Normal? Black jeans, a fitted black long-sleeve t-shirt. They’d be normal clothes on anyone but Søren. In them, Søren looked like something out of a fever dream. He couldn’t blame Blaise for looking at Søren the way she did.
But he did wonder why Søren looked at her the same way.
“Blaise, might I inquire what you’re doing interrupting this incredibly important card game of mine?”
“Against my better judgment, I answered the phone and took a message for you. But don’t get any ideas that I’m your new secretary although you need to get a new secretary-”
“I will, chouchou. I promise.”
“You said that last week.”
“I got a new secretary last week.”
“Where is she?”
“She quit.”
“Did you fuck her?”
“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”
Blaise turned her attention back to Søren.
“Can you please tell your oldest and dearest friend to stop seducing his secretaries so they’ll stop quitting on him when they catch him fucking someone else?”
“Kingsley,” Søren said, shuffling the cards again. “Stop seducing your secretaries so they’ll stop quitting on you.”
“Thank you.” Blaise gave Søren a smile.
“My pleasure,” Søren said. Kingsley mentally slapped them both.
“Give me the message,” Kingsley said, running his hand up her thigh and caressing the bare skin above her flesh-tone stockings.
Blaise reached into her nearly translucent pale pink blouse and produced a folded note from inside her lace-trimmed bra.
Kingsley unfolded the note, still warm from her body and read.
Tonight at nine. - Phoebe
Kingsley tensed when he read the words and briefly considered lying his way out of the situation. She’d understand if he had to reschedule. He did have a guest after all. But no, he needed the leverage. He couldn’t risk losing this chance.
“I have to go,” Kingsley said to Blaise and Søren. “I won’t be gone long—an hour or so. You’ll keep my guest company, won’t you?” he asked Blaise.
“Happily.” Her thousand-watt smile brightened a few more watts. With her on his lap he could feel the heat emanating between her legs.
“Good. You two have so much in common, so much to talk about. Blaise, tellSøren what you do.”
“I run a non-profit,” she said, leaning forward on the table and resting her chin on her hand. The move allowed everyone in the room to get a much clearer view of her soft, ample cleavage.
“A non-profit?” Søren continued shuffling the cards while never once looking away from Blaise.
“Tell him what it does.” Kingsley pinched her on the thigh and she shuddered in pleasure. “Our Blaise is trés altruistic.”
“It’s called Slut Pride. We’re a non-profit that helps educate people about women’s sexual freedom, especially in regards to women’s participation in BDSM activities. Some people like to tell us that it’s not feminist to like to get flogged. I say it’s not feminist to tell a woman what she can and can’t do. Enough about me. What do you do?” she asked Søren.
“I’m a Catholic priest.”
Blaise said nothing. She gawked at Søren with her full red-lipped mouth ajar. And then she laughed, a warm throaty laugh that filled the room.
“You’re terrible. I almost believed you.”
Søren winked at Kingsley. Kingsley had never guessed Søren had this flirtatious side to him. Back in their school days Søren had been feared and envied by all the other boys and Søren had almost never spoken to anyone but the other priests. Kingsley realized that other than his sister, he’d never seen Søren around a beautiful woman before. Interesting. The man was human after all. Even if he was a priest.
“I must be off. You two chat, become friends. Blaise, peut-être you should explain BDSM to my friend. I’m sure he’ll find it fascinating.”
“I’m sure I will,” Søren said. “We’ll be fine, Kingsley. Have a lovely evening.”
Kingsley patted Blaise’s shapely bottom and she stood up and let him out. On his way from the dining room he heard Blaise asking Søren, “So what do you really do?”
And Søren replied, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
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Tiffany Reisz is the author of the internationally bestselling and award-winning Original Sinners series for Mira Books (Harlequin/Mills & Boon). Tiffany's books inhabit a sexy shadowy world where romance, erotica and literature meet and do immoral and possibly illegal things to each other. She describes her genre as "literary friction," a term she stole from her main character, who gets in trouble almost as often as the author herself.
She lives in Portland, Oregon. If she couldn't write, she would die.
She lives in Portland, Oregon. If she couldn't write, she would die.
WEBSITE: http://www.tiffanyreisz.com/
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/
FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/
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