"Shakespeare Never Looked so Hot! And Historical Role-Play Was Never This Much of a Turn-on!"
Reviewed by Tonya Callihan
Posted October 24, 2009
Romance Contemporary
Imagine a resort just for grown-ups. Not your typical
resort. A resort where sex sticks out in every corner.
And guys dressed up in the Shakespearean Era where there to
take care of you're ever desire and make your every fantasy
come true. Roxie had just stepped into history; a very
seductive history. She was a corporate spy who was only at
Eros to gain information that would help her current boss
further his own company. Taylor Milton Corben, owner and CEO of Eros Airlines and
Fantasy Adventure Vacations had just hired Dougal Lockhart,
former Air Force Captain to work undercover. She has been
receiving threatening letters from an anonymous source.
She wants Dougal and his men to get to the bottom of this
problem. Taylor is sure the person behind the letters will
be on the flight Dougal will be on. Dougal suspects Roxie, she acts as if she is hiding
something and she is on the trip alone. No one comes to a
fantasy getaway alone. But could a beautiful innocent
looking woman be behind such awful tactics. As the two get
to know each other, they live out fantasies they were never
sure they had. Roxie has her motives for doing what she is
doing. And Dougal has his. In the end they are both
involved in a scandal, bigger than either of them thought
possible. And they realize, once the truth is out, that
they need each other. From the moment you start reading ZERO CONTROL you are in a
fantasy land. Eros is a place I want to go. It's seductive
and romantic. Dougal is charming, rough, and sexy. Roxie
is sweet, innocent, and has a wild streak. Around each
other they both have zero control. Dougal knows he
shouldn't get involved with Roxie, he is undercover and
trying to find the person threatening Taylor and her
company. The sex is explosive and boundaries are pushed.
At first it's mainly oral sex between Roxie and Dougal, but
what makes it explosive is the role-playing. But once the
two finally make love it's out of this world and mind-
blowing for the reader. The characters are strong and
willful. They are unlike most characters you read in
Harlequin Blaze novels. When you first meet Roxie and
Dougal you can't understand why they are together. Why are
they playing the part of hero and heroine? They are so
wrong for each other. Although they have food and music in
common they are different in personality. Dougal is more
outgoing and rough. Roxie is shy and innocent. She wears
rose-colored glasses when it comes to people. She trusts
everyone and believes everyone is nice. Dougal, on the
other hand, doesn't trust people. He's been betrayed too
many times and he keeps his guard up around everyone...except
Roxie. He trusts her, although he feels she is up to
something. He doesn't believe she is the woman behind the
threatening letters and messing with people's lives. But
you will realize that these characters do belong together.
They need each other to help each other heal over their
pasts and to move on with their futures. This is a book
you HAVE to read!! Note: This story does have some light bondage and anal
play.
SUMMARY
Eros Vacations presents castles, Shakespeare…and
sizzlin' sex!
Live it up—literary style!
Guests are whisked away to Great Britain for two weeks of
luxury adventure, history and plenty of naughty
possibilities! Whether it's an illicit tower tryst, a
romantic boat ride or even some hot dungeon action, your
pleasure is our concern….
But both executive
assistant Roxie Stanley and undercover security agent Dougal
Lockhart have their own motives for this vacation. Except
that sex—mind-meltingly great sex—is the only thing
either can think about. It's forbidden. It's tantalizingly
irresistible. And they're losing control…over and over and over!
Excerpt"Your agency has the job, but only under one condition."Taylor Milton Corben, owner and CEO of Eros Airlines and
Fantasy Adventure Vacations, folded her arms and leveled a
look at former Air Force Captain Dougal Lockhart. Taylor was
a sophisticated redhead with chic blond highlights threaded
through her stylish hair, unwavering chocolate brown eyes
and dynamite legs. She was also the new wife of Dougal's
best friend, Daniel Corben. Dougal drew himself up to his full six-foot-two-inch height
and held Taylor's steady gaze. He should have known there
would be a catch. In his experience, there was always a catch. Did her stipulation have anything to do with the reason he'd
left the military and started his own private duty air
marshal service? Daniel had probably told her what had
happened to him in Germany. Instinctively Dougal stuck his
hand in his pants pocket and ran his fingertips over the 9mm
slug fragment that he'd had turned into a key chain
precisely so he wouldn't forget. The bullet scar at his
upper right thigh—at the very same level as his
pocket—throbbed at the memory. Dougal steeled himself for a proviso he couldn't live with,
but he wasn't in any position to be choosy. He needed the
work. He was trying to get his fledgling business off the
ground and it was a struggle. Last month he'd been forced to
take out a loan just to make payroll. But there were some
things he simply wouldn't do. No matter how badly he needed
the money. "What's the condition?" He fisted his hands. "I want you and your team to go undercover—" "That's a given." She ignored his interruption and went on smoothly. "As tour
guides." "Tour guides?" She caught him off guard with that one. "Tour guides," she repeated. "Why?" "I need you and your men not just on my planes, but at my
resorts, as well." She leaned back in her chair, crossed her
legs and angled her head to size him up. "The Lockhart Agency is an air marshal service, not resort
security," he said. "Should I take that to mean you don't want the job?" Dammit, he did want the job and she was well aware of it. At
least she hadn't made any reference to Germany or Ava. He
shifted his weight, his feet shoulder-width apart, hands
resting on his hips. Taylor laughed. "You look like an old West gun-slinging
sheriff staving off a lynch mob, Dougal. Relax, have a seat." He forced himself to drop his arms by his sides and settle
into the plush leather couch across from Taylor's expensive
mahogany desk. He did have a tendency to brace for battle
even when there was nothing to brace for. "What does the job entail?" he asked. "You'll work for the entire first two weeks in May," she
said. "It's a fourteen-day tour." He nodded. "No problem there." "You and your men will take tour guide training with the
rest of my employees. You've got four men. We have four new
tours starting next month and I want air marshals on all the
planes and at the facilities." "Okay," he said cautiously. "What else?" "You'll be required to wear costumes." "Excuse me?" "I'm sorry, but it's nonnegotiable." Taylor might look like
a pampered supermodel, but she was a sharp business woman.
"In fact, if you decide to take the job, you should start
growing your beard now." "Beard?" Involuntarily his hand went up to stroke his jaw.
He'd never worn facial hair in his life. "You'll be playing the Bard." "Who?" "Shakespeare." Dougal frowned. "I'm not following you." "I'm concerned that the saboteur is targeting the Romance of
Britannia tour next, and the lead tour guide on that junket
dresses as Shakespeare. Or rather the Shakespeare in
Love version of what he dressed like." "Why are you so sure the saboteur is targeting that
particular tour?" Taylor opened up her desk, took out a green file folder and
passed it across her desk. Dougal opened it and read the
letter inside. You thought those little incidents at your Venice resort was
trouble? You haven't seen anything yet, bitch. Just wait
until one of your planes falls from the sky. Wouldn't that
set tongues wagging? Do you have any idea how vulnerable
your air fleet is? Just take a look. Attached to the anonymous letter was a schematic of the
inside of a Bombardier CRJ200. In the margins, written in
red, was a detailed listing of the numerous ways a saboteur
could cripple the private jet. His blood chilled. Dougal raised his head and met Taylor's gaze. For the first
time, he saw real fear in her eyes and he was strangely
comforted. If she was afraid, that meant she was taking the
threats seriously, and the fact that she'd laid her cards on
the table made him feel instantly calmer. He was the kind of
guy who liked to have a map of the quicksand bogs before he
ventured into the jungle. "What did the police say when you
showed them the note?" Taylor plowed a hand through her hair. "I didn't." "Why not?" "I don't want any more negative publicity than I've already
gotten. I prefer to keep this in-house." "We should have it dusted for prints." "I already sent it out to a private lab. There were dozens
of prints on the envelope, none on the letter beyond mine
and the temp who's been filling in since my executive
assistant decided not to return from maternity leave." "What happened in Venice?" Taylor inhaled audibly. "A few months back my Venice resort
experienced a series of… problems." "Meaning?" "Malfunctioning smoke alarms that allowed a fire in the
laundry room to go undetected until it had done several
thousand dollars' worth of damage. It was suspicious because
the smoke alarms had just passed inspection the week before." "Cause of the blaze?" "Undetermined." "Go on." "After one of the scheduled banquet feasts, a few guests
contracted food poisoning, sending them to the hospital for
treatment. And finally a Renoir was stolen. The security
system had been turned off, and the police suspected an
inside job. I fired the manager, hired someone new. Taken
one by one it seemed like mere coincidence, but then I
learned an exposé reporter was following me." "The incident between you and Daniel in Spain," he said. "Yes." She nodded. "Once the reporter aired his piece, I
thought the sabotage was all over. Apparently—" she waved at
the letter Dougal was still holding "—I was wrong, and the
guy was just lying in wait, lulling me into a false sense of
security." "You believe it's a man?" She shrugged. "Aren't men usually the ones who do these
kinds of things?" Dougal thought of Ava. "Not necessarily." Taylor pulled her lips back in a pensive expression. "I
hadn't considered a woman." "What makes you think this saboteur is going to strike the
Romance of Britannia tour?" "That diagram is not just any generic Bombardier schematic.
It was torn from the handbook of the plane that services
that specific tour." She pulled the handbook from her desk
and tossed it to him. Dougal opened it to the back where the schematics were
located and saw the jagged edges where the paper had been
ripped out. It didn't take a crime scene investigator to see
that the torn segments matched. "Any clue as to who could be
behind this?" She shook her head. "I'm no stranger to controversy, you
know that. There have been outspoken religious
fundamentalists picketing my resorts, condemning them as
hedonistic and wicked. Then there are the superkinky
customers who threaten to sue me because Eros refuses to
fulfill their illegal fantasies. My competitors are jealous
of the way I've taken my father's dated commuter airline
model and given it a very profitable new millennium
makeover. But many on the board of directors are unhappy
about this new direction. Making enemies is all part of
doing business in the tourism industry." "This feels more personal." He fingered the torn pages. "For
one thing, how did they get access to the jet's handbook?" "I don't know. That's where you come in." "I'm not sure how my men are going to like dressing up and
playing tour guide." "I understand it's asking a lot. I'm willing to sweeten the
deal." She named a figure so high it was all Dougal could do
not to blink in disbelief. "What do you say?" He smiled. "How can I refuse?" Taylor reached across the desk, rested her hand on Dougal's
forearm. "I want this person caught and I want my guests
kept safe." "We'll take care of it." "I'm counting on you." He got to his feet, thought about what happened in Germany
and swallowed hard. He could do this. He had to do this.
He'd learned from his past. He wouldn't be played for a fool
again. He met Taylor's steady gaze and made her a promise.
"You can depend on me. I won't let you down." At that moment, a knock sounded on the door and before
Taylor could say, "Come in" the door opened and a heavyset
older gentleman, with a straight-shouldered military
bearing, stepped over the threshold. Immediately, Dougal saluted the former general who had once
been his superior officer. "General Miller, sir." "Please." The general waved his hand. "There's no need for
that. We're both retired." Dougal relaxed his stance. "How are you, Uncle Chuck?" Taylor asked and got up to give
the general a kiss on his cheek. "I'm just fine, princess." He wrapped an arm around her waist. "How's Aunt Mitzi?" "Blowing through all my money on a spa day with her friends." He grinned at her, and then looked at Dougal. "Are you in
the middle of something here? I thought I'd take you to
lunch and you could tell me what's going on with that
sabotage business." "Actually, I just hired Dougal and his team to augment my
security staff. I just received another threatening letter.
This one targeting my air fleet." "Oh?" The general canted his head. "I've started my own private air marshal service, sir,"
Dougal explained. "Ah." Miller nodded. "Applying the lessons you learned about
security after that mess in Germany." Was that a personal dig? The man's tone made Dougal squirm
in memory over what had happened. "Yes. And I'm going to do
everything in my power to ensure that Eros Air stays safe." "See that you do," Miller said curtly. "See that you do." "Hey, handsome, you can shake your spear over here anytime
you want." In light of that sexy remark, Dougal forced himself not to
roll his eyes as a group of women filed onto the Bombardier
CRJ200, chatting, giggling and finding their seats. The
majority of them were young, rich and attractive. The
red-haired woman who'd cracked the suggestive comment
briefly met his gaze, then lowered her eyelashes, licked her
lips and murmured, "Yummm-o," before moving down
the aisle. It didn't help matters that Dougal was dressed like Joseph
Fiennes from Shakespeare in Love right down to the
artsy, beatnik beard he was itching to shave. After all, this was Eros Airlines and Fantasy Adventure
Vacations and Taylor's company's catch phrase was Something
Sexy in the Air. Other than the pilot and copilot, who were
both pushing sixty, Dougal was the only male employee
aboard. He felt like the last cut of prime beef in the meat
market on the Fourth of July. He was going to have to talk to Taylor. The puffy-sleeved
shirt and skintight leather breeches were bad enough, but
the facial hair simply had to go. Resisting the urge to
scratch his jaw, Dougal greeted each guest with the
requisite smile, welcoming them aboard with an affected
British accent. It was going to be a long two weeks. Look at the side benefits. You stand an excellent chance
of getting laid. Except he and his men had signed a contract with a morality
clause. While they were encouraged to flirt with the guests,
sexual contact was strictly prohibited. Dougal watched a
provocative young woman with a great ass wiggle away and he
hissed out his breath. Damn that morality clause. That was the moment Dougal spotted her. The last one to board. The one who didn't belong. She stood out like a single red rose in a field full of
dandelions, all genteel and otherworldly, an escapee from
the pages of Grimm's Fairy Tales. He half expected
to see unicorns and songbirds and butterflies trailing after
her. Her hair was raven's-wing black, her skin pure alabaster,
her eyes a stunning shade of ice-floe blue. She must be
wearing contact lenses; no one's eyes were that color
naturally. She was dressed in a butter-yellow sundress made
out of some soft, frothy material that caused his mouth to
water. Dougal could taste the sugar-coated marshmallow
bunnies and chickens his mother had put in his Easter basket
when he was a kid. Unbidden, he found himself imagining what she looked like
underneath that springtime sundress. Did she have on white
cotton panties with a sensible underwire bra? Or would he
find a delightful surprise? Maybe a wicked scarlet bustier
and G-string panties? Dougal tilted his head. No, he decided. Pink satin tap pants
and a matching camisole. Sweet yet sassy. A good girl
longing for adventure but nervous about reaching out and
grabbing what she desired. And yet it was more than her ethereal beauty that set her
apart from the others, and Dougal was trained to notice
subtle differences. It was the serious, "all-business" slant
to her slender shoulders and the determined set to her chin,
as if she had something to prove. It was the perceptive
expression in her eyes, the purposeful way she moved and the
manner in which she was sizing him up just as intensely as
he was measuring her. No mere vacationer, this one. Not a woman simply looking for
a good time. This enigmatic lady had an agenda. Alarm bells went off in his head. Until he knew exactly what
her agenda was, Dougal was keeping a close eye on her. Another thing that didn't fit—she was traveling solo.
Everyone else on the vacation had traveling companions, but
this mysterious miss appeared to be all alone. No doting
husband or fiancé or boyfriend at her elbow. No best buddy
yapping her ear off. No mother or sister or cousin. Perhaps she also worked for Eros, maybe she was an actress
paid to help set the stage for the Romance of Britannia tour
the group was embarking upon and it was her first day on the
job. If you put her in historical garb along the lines of
the ridiculous outfit he'd been forced to wear, she'd be a
shoo-in. Except that Taylor hadn't told him about any new employees
joining the group, and he'd made it quite clear that he was
to be kept in the loop regarding anything to do with
passenger safety. Odd, though, that while his brain and
experience were warning him to watch out for her, his gut
was telling him something startling and stupid. She's the one you've been waiting for. Why the hell was he giving himself mixed messages? The last
time this had happened he'd ended up with a bullet in his
thigh.
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