Getting to know Hidden Needs...

A huge thank you to my readers! My newest release Hidden Needs is not only a bestseller at All Romance e-books...but it is working its way up there at Amazon also! I can't tell you how bouncy I am right now...

Here's the blurb and first chapter...just in case you want in on the *cough cough* action...warning though—this is slightly on the BDSM side...considering it is the first in the Secrets of the Sanctuary series...and Sanctuary is an oh-so-special type of club *winks*.

Oh...and another warning—Hidden Needs has two very alpha men who don't always play by the rules...you've been warned...

Blurb:

Archer Hehnier is a hard-core businessman through and through. He's not afraid to make the merciless decisions, to put in the long hours, to lose himself in his work for the greater good of his company and his clients…even if it means losing a piece of himself in the process. But when does a man with a mind always turning at two hundred rotations per second get his personal needs met?

Dalton is an uncompromising businessman, who could, no doubt, go toe-to-toe with Archer in the boardroom—but that's not the room Dalton wants to tackle Archer in.

With a little help from his friends at the premier BDSM club, The Sanctuary, Dalton hopes to fulfill every one of Archer's hidden needs.

**Previously released as part of the Don't Read in the Closet V.II M/M Romance Collection in 2011. Since then it has been reworked and edited for your reading enjoyment.

Find Hidden Needs at Amazon and ARe

Chapter One

I watched him walk in exactly at seven. You could set your watch by him. I knew his routine—bar for a double scotch neat then a corner table for two, but only he would occupy it. As usual on Thursdays, he ordered the fisherman's catch: salmon, a spring salad with strawberries, and steamed baby veggies. The only starch he allowed to pass between those thin sharp lips tonight was a well-buttered roll, no potatoes for my man, and no alcohol with dinner either. He favored water with fresh squeezed lime and was very adamant with the server about the simple fact lemon was not a substitution.

Even at this late hour and having put in a full day of numbers, his attire was never mussed—Armani was safe on his capable body. I couldn't wait for him to roll in here Friday. It was my favorite day to see him. He broke away from his favored charcoals and wore color. The third Friday of the month…hmm…oh yes, green. Love him in his deep green suit with the lighter shade silk shirt and tie.

I always found it amusing how everyone maneuvered around his table, purposely walking on the other side of tables out of their way. My man had an aura about him, sort of a "back the fuck off before I eradicate you with just my thoughts" type of thing going on. Of course he wouldn't curse. Foul language was beneath someone who could make a grown man cry with just a cock of the eyebrow.

Yes…Archer Hehnier was a badass in constant control of his surroundings. All of them. From the strangers that walked in and out of his life to the paid help at his overpriced house. I even suspected that he had a way of turning all the traffic lights green on his drive home, but hadn't been able to test that theory yet.

So why did I eat at this same restaurant practically every night and memorize his routine? Simple, he had something I wanted, and I had something he needed. And I do believe that green Friday would be the day I explain this to him. That should be interesting.

Oops, that waitress's mascara was going to run—he likes limes not lemons. One more casualty, management should know not to send the sensitive ones to his table; they're nothing but cannon fodder for him.

I finished the rest of my dirty martini, a drink Arch would gasp at, and hooked the extra olive I requested with my tongue, sucking it into my mouth and rolling it around. The idea of applying that very same principle to Arch appealed to me greatly, so much so, in fact, that my own pressed slacks were becoming a tad bit snug. Unfortunately, I had to wait at least another forty-eight hours before I would be able to act out my furtive fantasy life. I figured the first night for Arch to verbally berate me, and the second night for him to do other things with his wicked mouth.

Oh yes, he wouldn't go willingly, not Mr. Ice King. He'd explain in no uncertain, albeit politically correct, terms exactly what I could do with myself. But like I said, I had something he needed, and I was certain that I was the one to make his body usurp his mind. Oh the benefits when that happened would be good.

But for now, I had an early meeting with a new client, so I had to bid adieu to my man. I waved over my waitress, and yes, her mascara had smudged up some thanks to Arch, and handed her a hundred dollar bill. When she offered to bring the change back, I waved her off. What can I say? I was a sentimental guy, and when my future lover was a tad bit more hostile than the situation called for, I didn't mind making amends. She was a good server, and at the end of the night, she would remember her forty-five dollar tip first, and the tedious, lime-loving customer second.

I smiled as I headed out of the restaurant. All was right in my world, and tomorrow all would be even better.