If you’re into breath play, or just curious, this book is here for you!

Squeeze Me Harder is officially out in the world!

After a whirlwind little pre-order window and some early readers bravely diving into my particular brand of guilt-free chaos, it’s now live on Kindle and available through Kindle Unlimited.

I wrote this book as a sharp, fast inhale—something dark, needy, and absolutely unpretentious—and I’m thrilled that early readers have already met it in that spirit.

Here are a few things people have said that made me both blush and grin:

“If you want a short and spicy read this is the book for you.” — Angel

“Straight up well written breath-play erotica.” — Morally_Gray_Nola

“This is a quick fast moving story that will definitely grab your attention and hold it with the right amount of… pressure.” — Sandra

If you like your romance darkly intimate, taboo, edgy, and focused on the moment-to-moment tension between two people who probably should not be doing what they’re doing but are going to anyway… well, welcome.

Below is a short excerpt to tempt (or warn) you:

“So? Tell me to stop. Tell me this ends here.” He waited for a moment, and I said nothing. “Everything I’m saying is true, and I know you’re thinking the same. You want it, Lara. I can read people. I have a gift for it. You haven’t been satisfied since you married him.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” He stepped forward, and I instinctively pulled away. But that only made him grin and move closer again. “I’ve known him all my life, and I’ve never known him to give anything but money. I can’t imagine he was any different in the bedroom.”

“He never paid me, if that’s what you—”

“It isn’t. And I don’t care anyway. Good for you if you made him pay a million every time he fucking jerked off. I just know my dad… Knew, I guess.” He stepped forward again, and as I retreated, I felt the wall against my back. He leaned in closer, and my heart thundered. I tried to look away, but couldn’t.

“You’re not like him,” I said, not sure if it was a question or a statement.

Nico shook his head. “No. I’m not. He’s safe. But you don’t want safety, do you, Lara?”

I felt his hand against my hip, and shivered as his fingers trailed up my side, danced over the curve of my breast, found my throat, and settled there. He put slight pressure against my larynx, and my heart skipped a beat.

He was right. His father wasn’t a giving man, either in life or in private.

Henri expected me to open my legs when he wanted to fuck, but that was it. He never cared if I enjoyed it, never wanted to talk or ask me about myself. He never tried anything new or different.

He kept me here, in his house, and showed me off at functions, and that was enough for him.

I’d been strangled by Henri for three years since we got married, strangled by his need to control me, by his indifference to my happiness or needs. And here was his son, with his hand against my throat. And I knew exactly why he had been in prison, because I’d looked him up. I’d read all the lurid details.

I’d enjoyed them. I’d practiced putting my hands around my throat as I fingered myself, and never quite gone all the way.

Was that why I said what I said? Was I trying to antagonize him? To provoke him?

I don’t know. All I know is that I told the truth.

“Harder,” I whispered, leaning forward so that his grip cut off my air, and the next words came out hoarse. “Choke me harder.”