Read The Pleasures of Autumn Online
Authors: Evie Hunter
The Pleasures of Autumn
Evie HunterTHE PLEASURES OF AUTUMN
‘Evie Hunter’ is actually two authors who met at a creative writing workshop in 2010 and discovered a shared love of erotica. Since then, while they have both written fiction in other genres, they have also written a number of BDSM-themed novellas together.
The Pleasures of Autumn
is their third collaboration on a novel, following the publication of
The Pleasures of Winter
(2012) and
The Pleasures of Summer
(2013).
Pleasures
books
‘Ah, Oh, Ah, OMG! Damn You Evie Hunter! Are you trying to kill me? What a freaking read! I love love love love every single second of this steamy, exciting and thrilling read! You all know how much I loved the first book,
The Pleasures of Winter
, and I didn’t think I would enjoy this as much just because
Winter
was just perfect but … The amazing Irish writing duo have did it again! I was hooked from page one and left breathless by the end …
The Pleasures of Summer
is a book that will capture your very being. You will fall in love with the characters and get so caught up in the story that you will forget everything around you. I highly recommend the “Pleasures” series to anyone who loves a good erotica read that has depth.’
5/5
Totally Bookalicious
(full review at:
http://totally-bookalicious.blogspot.ie/2013/06/double-review-pleasures-of-summer-touch.html?zx=92a1b025942114ac
)
‘I loved
The
Pleasures of Winter
, so I hopped on the opportunity to read this book [
The Pleasures of Summer
] … I wasn’t disappointed. These
characters were created with precision. They have depth and scope of where they are going. They clash and create chemistry like any great romance. The heroine doesn’t roll over and play dead, she gives it as good as she got it. Watch out people, I’m telling you this writing duo is one to watch. They’ve knocked it out of the park with two in a row … If you want a well-written book to read after
Fifty
or even better than Gideon Cross, look no further. Not only do you get all the tension with a hell of a pay-off, you get a believable HEA at the end. Masterfully written, artfully told, and yummy to read.’
5/5
My Book Boyfriend
(full review at:
http://mybookboyfriend.blogspot.ie/2013/06/the-pleasures-of-summer-pleasures-2-by.html?zx=7e2a07f2382adc48
)
‘Blushworthy scenes, graphic.
50 Shades
-ish but with a feisty, strong female character and intelligent writing. Epic romance, hotter than the hottest of summers!’
Between the Lines
Twitteresque Book Reviews
on
The Pleasures of Summer
(full review at:
http://betweenthelinesisanendlessstory.blogspot.ie/2013/07/twitteresque-book-reviews-friday-night.html
)
‘Evie Hunter does it again! Honestly, this book was just as good as the first one [
The Pleasures of Winter
] … This novel had me and wouldn’t let me go. I never had a reason to stop reading this book, and I’m so glad that I did get the chance to read it. As erotic literature goes, I’d say this novel would be in the top ten of amazing books to read in the genre.’
5/5
Manhattan Reader
(full review at:
http://headstrong-tomgirl.blogspot.ie/2013/06/the-pleasures-of-summer-by-evie-hunter.html
)
‘
The Pleasures of Summer
by Evie Hunter is NOT just an erotic romp through the world of the Dom/sub relationship, there is a plot – honest – and it’s a good one, filled with tension, danger and a kidnapping or two! Summer and Flynn are both well-developed (very – had to say that), dimensional (very – had to say that, again) and their bickering and bantering back and forth is actually chuckle-worthy at times.’
5/5
Tome Tender
(full review at:
http://tometender.blogspot.ie/2013/06/the-pleasures-of-summer-by-evie-hunter.html?zx=c6d5aac4bee7872f
)
‘I loved
The Pleasures of Winter
so much that when I received this second instalment, I dove right into it! There is still plenty of S-E-X, but the storyline is different from the first with different characters … The makeup sex was HOT!!! It made me wish there was more book when I was finished reading (I am soooo looking forward to
The Pleasures of Autumn
).’
Nightly Reading
(full review at:
http://nightlyreading.wordpress.com/2013/06/10/the-pleasures-of-summer-by-evie-hunter-review-guest-post-in-my-mailbox-video/
)
‘These authors certainly know how to write good erotic fiction because once again the sexual parts were sizzling hot but I didn’t feel like they overwhelmed the actual storyline … I was utterly gripped by the action-packed events leading up to the end, it was so exciting and really got my heart pounding. This will be added to my one-day read list because I just couldn’t put it down and I can easily say that Evie Hunter’s books are so much better than the
Fifty Shades
series thanks to the fantastic storylines and wonderful characters.’
Me, My Books and I
(full review at:
http://memybooksandi.wordpress.com/2013/06/24/the-pleasures-of-summer-evie-hunter/
)
Goodreads.com
user reviews:
‘These hot D/s books are entertaining and well rounded. Meaning there is so much more going on emotionally than the hot one-on-one time. The struggle with your own self-doubt, and being comfortable with who you really are and not what you think people want you to be, all come to play here as well.’
5/5
‘Evie Hunter knows her way around describing headboard rocking, and she will leave you panting.’
4/5
‘Firstly, I have to say that
The Pleasures of Winter
was one of my favourite books of 2012. I loved Jack and Abbie and was looking forward to another taste of Jack. So when I read the blurb for
The
Pleasures of Summer
and realized that it had a different hero, I wasn’t expecting to like it as much. I was totally wrong. Ms Hunter has done it again. Talk about a page-turner. … This is more than just a love story. The sexy scenes are HOT.’
5/5
‘Flynn is another swoonworthy lead male and I would give my left leg to be stranded in that Scottish cottage with him (
fans self
).
He’s too yummy for words! I love the writing team that makes up Evie Hunter, they truly are talented. I am seriously excited to read
The Pleasures of Autumn
.’
4/5
‘
The Pleasures of Summer
is a must read for those who like to take a walk on the wild side. This is a sexy, no-holds-barred read all wrapped up in a thrilling adventure.’
5/5
To the men in our lives who inspire the heroes in our books
Standing in the wings, she drew in a deep breath, savouring the moment. It was always like this – the final nervous minutes before the spotlight came on, when she left the real world behind and became a fantasy.
Adjusting her corset, she checked that her pasties were in place over her nipples and plumped her pale breasts a little higher. Her trademark red sequined costume was a perfect foil for her pale skin and glossy raven wig. Her dresser had laced her tightly tonight, emphasizing her tiny waist and long dancer’s legs.
‘Your whip,
chérie
.’ A bare-chested dancer handed it to her.
‘Thanks, Gabriel.’ She flashed him a smile before clapping her hands. ‘Places, everyone. We’re on in three.’
Six glorious specimens of oiled male perfection moved quickly to do her bidding, taking their places beside the gilded chaise longue on which they would carry her onto the stage. Male dancers only, her contract stipulated. Years of back-stage bitchiness had taught her a valuable lesson. She never shared a stage with another woman if she could help it, but it didn’t stop the gossip. One rumour hinted that she had been offered a million dollars by an Omani prince in exchange for a single night in her bed.
She had laughed out loud when she heard that one.
‘One minute,’ the stage manager barked.
She took her place on the chaise, lounging with contrived indolence. Like a woman waking up after an afternoon of passion with a lover, or perhaps two lovers.
‘Ladies and Gentlemen, on the final evening of her farewell UK tour, for one night only …’
His voice faded as she blanked it out. She closed her eyes. The heady sense of anticipation made her tingle as it always did – music, the swish of curtains, followed by the hot brightness of a single spotlight.
The scent of the predominantly male audience wafted to her nostrils; expensive cologne, mingled with an undercurrent of lust. Her nipples peaked behind the confines of her corset. A woman’s high-pitched laugh was silenced by the spectacle of her entrance onto the stage.
Sinead O’Sullivan opened her eyes and became Lottie LeBlanc.
Like a jaded cat, she yawned and stretched and came to a sitting position in a single fluid movement. Her impossibly high heels dangled over the side of the raised chaise and she stared pointedly at her lead dancer. Following a single crack of her whip, he knelt, pressing a tender kiss against her ankle before bending his head to form a human footstool.
A bald man in the front row shuddered as she walked the length of her dancer’s naked back before stepping onto the stage.
Behind her elaborate red mask, her eyes swept the thronged venue. It was standing room only – except for the owner’s box, which was empty – a fitting tribute to one of the top burlesque performers in the business.
According to gossip, she was a woman with a string of lovers, a fortune in diamonds and a reputation for unsurpassed notoriety.
If only they knew the truth.
She loved the sense of power that performing gave her. As she slowly removed one diaphanous layer after another, she played with the audience, making each man believe that she would be his. A quick change of costume transformed her from twenties vamp to Chinese courtesan. The silk-draped bed was a perfect foil for a lustful concubine, awaiting her master’s pleasure.
Every glance, every step of her routine was choreographed and rehearsed to sensual perfection. When she tossed a sheer black stocking into the crowd, the audience went into a frenzy of delight. As she unlaced her shimmering corset, the bald man wiped his forehead with a linen handkerchief. She cast the sequined bundle to the side of the stage, standing before her admirers, wearing nothing but a tiny jewelled thong, embroidered with a dragon.
A flash of movement caught her eye as a man entered the empty box. Her carmine-tinted smile froze on her face. She knew him – Niall Moore. CEO of Moore Enterprises, a company specializing in black ops and rescuing damsels in distress.
Well, she wasn’t a damsel and she certainly wasn’t in distress.
With his long fair hair tied back from his face, he looked like a Viking. The stark symmetry of his knife-edge cheekbones and strong jaw line would have captured her attention anywhere. There was something about the big
man that had set her heart racing from the moment she had seen him. Strange he should turn up so soon after their first meeting. Not that he would remember her anyway. A week earlier, he had looked straight through her. As if her serious bespectacled everyday self didn’t merit his attention.
But not tonight. Tonight his rapt gaze was as eager as the rest of them. His steel-grey eyes glittered and there was a hint of sensuous promise in his smile. She was willing to bet that his mouth could reduce a girl to a quivering jelly.
If it wasn’t so dangerous, she might have been tempted. But despite the rumours to the contrary, Lottie always went home alone.
Distracted by his chiselled beauty, she almost forgot her next move, but recovered quickly. Throughout the routine, her attention was constantly drawn to the box above the stage. An uncharacteristic whim made her toss him a souvenir stocking, and left her pleased when he pressed it to his mouth in a silent kiss.
She turned her back on him. She couldn’t afford to lose her concentration and flirting with someone who could connect her with her other life was too dangerous.
A giant champagne glass rose from beneath the stage accompanied by roars of approval from her audience. It was bath time. Stepping lightly up the ladder, she removed her thong and rewarded her fans with a flash of naked derrière before sliding into the warm water.
She stroked her breasts, knowing that every man in the auditorium was imagining what her skin felt like. Rolling over, she splashed playfully, sending droplets of water to
cool her overheated admirers. She washed her long legs with a slow sensuous movement, taking satisfaction when she noticed Niall’s fists clenched on the gilded edge of the box.
Toes gripping the edge of the glass bath, she raised herself on her arms in a wet and wanton offering that gave him a perfect view of her naked body. Grey eyes narrowed in a heated stare that sent a thrill straight to her core.
Naughty Lottie. You really shouldn’t tease.
The music rose to a crescendo and the curtain fell for the final time, shielding her from thunderous applause. She hurried from the stage – Lottie never did an encore – and into the tiny dressing room that was already filling with flowers.
Sinead removed her dark wig and contact lenses, wiped off her make-up and took a quick shower, rinsing Lottie away for the last time. Her faded jeans and T-shirt hung on the costume rail. She dressed swiftly and pulled a woollen beanie over her long, damp hair. Without the elaborate stage make-up, the mirror revealed a slender woman with a pale, nondescript face. She might have been a waitress or a student.
A tap on the dressing-room door announced the arrival of more flowers, this time a lush display of orange tiger lilies.
‘For you,
chérie
.’ Gabriel had already changed into a pair of dark jeans and a T-shirt. A subtle waft of aftershave announced that he had a date.
She took the bouquet from him. ‘For me? Oh, you shouldn’t have.’
‘I didn’t.’ He grinned. ‘You have enough admirers already.’
The crisp white envelope that accompanied the flowers contained a card with a London telephone number. She inhaled the fresh scent from the bouquet and tore up the card.
‘Are you sure you want to give all this up?’
Gabriel knew her well. Lottie had put her through college and given her the confidence to pursue her dream career. But now that it was within her grasp, she was having second thoughts. ‘I’m sure. I have a whole other life planned.’
‘
Oui
, but there is still time to change your mind …’
‘I won’t.’
As he was closing the door, he inclined his head. ‘
Au ’voir
, until Paris.’
With a final glance at the mirror to be certain that Lottie was gone, Sinead slipped from the dressing room and went to the stage door at the back of the theatre. At the top of the narrow street, several limousines were waiting. It was the same every night she performed – rich men, all hoping for an encounter with the glamorous dancer. But no one noticed the girl with the backpack, walking along the rainy streets to the bus stop.
In a late night grocery shop she picked up a half bottle of wine and a tin of tuna for the cat next door. She would miss his furry company when she moved to Geneva. Climbing the stairs, she let herself into her apartment and shrugged off her jacket. Most of the crates were packed and ready, waiting for the removal men.
There was just one more box to be done. Armed with
a glass of wine, she set to work on the last of the boxes from beneath her bed. The glossy photographs of Lottie, she placed in a folder and put into the top of one crate. They could go to Paris with the rest of her costumes and stage props.
In her folder were photographs spanning seven years of Lottie, from nervous backing dancer to headline act. She flicked through them, pausing when one caught her eye. Ian. Her first boyfriend when she came to London. He had arrived at the theatre one night with a group of drunken friends, never expecting to see her on stage. Sinead cringed when she remembered the aftermath. It had been one of the worst nights of her life.
Ian was furious and ashamed when he discovered that she took her clothes off for money. He had called her a whore. She hadn’t dated much after that and had always worn a wig or a mask on stage. How could she expect anyone to understand about Lottie? No man could. Sinead tore the photograph in half and bundled the rest into an envelope. They could go to Paris as well, until she decided what to do with them. She’d already had offers for her entire collection of costumes and memorabilia, but she wasn’t ready to let them go just yet.
A meow on the balcony caught her attention and she let Mr Fish inside. ‘You’re just in time for the party.’
While he ate, Sinead leafed through her mail. Among the final utility statements and auction catalogues was an envelope with an Irish stamp and her grandmother’s spidery handwriting. Granny O’Sullivan was a witch. Sinead poured a second glass of wine before opening the envelope.
Along with the note saying that she was praying for her
and wishing her well in her new job, was a religious medal tied onto a piece of blue ribbon. She sighed. Granny O’Sullivan had finally gotten over her fear of flying and acquired a passport. Her uncle Tim had probably given his mother an entire plane to herself. God help Lourdes.
She had cleared her student loans and now it was time for Lottie to disappear. Her increasing fame brought with it the danger of discovery and there was no way that any respectable museum would employ an exotic dancer as a curator. She had one more show to perform in Paris and after that it was adieu, Ms LeBlanc.
Sinead undressed and before she climbed into bed, she checked the contents of her briefcase one final time; airline ticket, passport and a letter of appointment to her new job at the Rheinbach museum in Geneva, the most prestigious private museum in Europe.
The start of her new life.