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I began this novel shortly after I finished the first draft of my first novel, God, now about a decade ago and was first published about four years ago with the now-gone Sinful Press. It had started out as a way to redeem my character’s best friend, who’d unfortunately and a little unfairly been cast in the antagonist role in order to kick my main pair in the ass and into action.
But the more I worked on it, the more this became a story about feminism and BDSM and the sometimes tense and heated relationship they have with one another, particularly in a post-Fifty Shades, and now post-Trump and post-Me-Too, world.
As a kinkster and a feminist, I wanted to prove that, no matter how often we hear the contrary, these two ideas don’t have to be competing ones. That they could exist peaceably.
I don’t know if I believe that anymore.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m still a feminist and I’m still kinky. And I don’t think that this is an impossible or even an uncommon stance to have.
I am just not sure that I’m willing to say that these two things don’t often butt heads.
Or even that they shouldn’t.
In the many years it took to write this story, and in the many since, my beliefs and convictions about both feminism and kink have changed. Have evolved. Along with the world’s.
Ten years ago, I’d never even heard of Fifty Shades of Grey. Seven years ago, I’d wished I never had. Five years ago, I watched the movie and…didn’t hate it.
Ten years ago, I firmly believed no means no was the benchmark of consent. Seven years ago, yes means yes became the new and resounding mantra. And, now, I’ve marched in a pussy hat against a sexual predator who, despite credible accusations and several taped confessions, conned his way into the presidency.
It’s enough to make me thoroughly grateful that I’m not vanilla, because I’ll take checklists and safewords and straight-forward, structured negotiations over the complicated often unspoken—and even more often unheard—conversation about consent.
I am not the same feminist I was ten years ago.
Nor am I the same kinkster.
Give me another ten years to grow and those statements will very likely remain just as true.
Because both those qualities in me are not finite or static. They are forever dynamic, growing with me as I move through a constantly changing life.
And they should.
Often by butting heads with each other. By asking the other to question and grow. From learning from each other.
This is the only way anything can become better.
So, evolutions later, this novel became a love story as much of feminism and kink as Max and her Sir. I hope you enjoy it.
Max Wells is a ball-busting, ass-kicking testament to female empowerment, who’s yet to meet the person who can push her down.
Until she meets a man she only knows as Sir.
Shamelessly deviant, Hayato knows exactly what Max thinks of Dominants like him. So ready to dismiss his lifestyle, she’s the type to assume she knows everything about it and him after one cursory glance from the outside in. But, looking at Max—at her intelligence and passion—he can see more in her than the misconceptions she’s deliberately blinding herself with.
And, determined, he plans to show her more.
Max finds herself fascinated by this man who insists on challenging her every belief as he leads her into his world of dark desires. Matching his clash of wit, will, and seduction, Max begins to question all she knows about what it means to be empowered.
Used to being unquestionably on top, Hayato is intrigued by Max's formidable delight in playing games and striking deals that shifts his usual power dynamics as they negotiate roles and rewrite rules.
But, just as their game heats up, it gets used against them. Seeking to punish them with their play, someone threatens to drag their private lives out into the public spotlight.
With high stakes and bitter scandal looming over their heads, Max and her Sir will have to work together to show that what the world thinks they are does not define who they are.
READ CHAPTER ONE
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