The Ingredients of Bliss

BDSM Ménage erotic romance

cover		 One sexy French chef. One kinky American TV producer. One ambitious Chinese gal who thinks she wants them both. The ingredients of bliss? Or a recipe for disaster?

Accomplished cook Mei Lee ‘Emily’ Wong knows exactly what she wants—her own show on the Tastes of France food channel. But life is full of complications. First, her deceptively nerdy producer, Harry Sanborne, initiates Emily into the delights of submission. Then her boss, legendary chef Etienne Duvalier, begs her to dominate him. Emily just can’t resist—especially when Harry orders her to explore her inner mistress. Suave and sexy Etienne will do whatever she asks—in the bedroom if not in the kitchen. And Harry, her lovingly diabolical Dom, adores pushing Emily’s limits.

When the network sends the trio to France to shoot a series of cooking shows on location, Emily knows her career is on the upswing. Her plans fall apart in Marseille as a Hong Kong drug syndicate kidnaps both Etienne and Harry. The Iron Hammer Triad mistakes Etienne for notorious gangster Jean Le Requin, who has stolen their drug shipment, worth millions. Emily realizes she must find the real Le Requin, retrieve the purloined dope, and bargain it for Harry’s and Etienne’s lives. The secret she’s been keeping from Harry might prove useful. Still, what chance does one woman whose knife skills are limited to chopping vegetables, have against the ruthless cruelty of two criminal organizations?

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Excerpt

“You’ve read Dumas, haven’t you?”

Etienne’s voice shattered into my daydream, dispelling the lurid images but not my arousal. My thighs were wet as the sea surrounding our craft.

“Ah—what? I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“The Count of Monte Christo? Have you read it?”

“Um, actually, I haven’t.” Hong Kong’s British-influenced educational system did not tend to focus much on French literature. “But I know that the hero was imprisoned in the Château D’If. I did see the movie.”

“Read the book. The film—I assume you mean the 2002 version—glosses over too many details.” Etienne’s smug superiority brought out my inner Domme. I hadn’t really punished him in days. Perhaps this evening I’d borrow Harry’s belt.

I was about to call him out on his arrogant tone when I noticed his expression. I would not be exaggerating too much if I called it worshipful.

“You’re shivering, Mei Lee.” His sparkling eyes reflected the deep blue of the waves. “Here, take my jacket.”

Before I could protest, he’d removed the garment and settled it around my shoulders. He gave them a quick squeeze that warmed me at least as much as the extra layer.

“It’s this silly dress—it’s made out of tissue paper.” I snuggled into the jacket, which held a trace of his heat and his scent.

“I like the dress.” He flashed me a brilliant smile, turning on his celebrated charm. “It’s romantic, like something out of a 1940’s musical.”

My desire to thrash his butt morphed into a need to feel those full lips on my own.

“What’s romantic? The dungeons of the Château?” Harry joined us by the railing before I gave in to temptation. As he brushed past to stand on the opposite side from Etienne, he gave my ass a surreptitious pinch through the thin fabric of my costume.

I sucked in my breath at the sudden sting then relaxed as new warmth flooded through me.

“Mei Lee’s dress. Don’t you think she looks beautiful?”

“She always looks beautiful, whatever she wears. Most especially when she’s not wearing anything at all.”

“Harry!” I scolded, as a blush climbed into my cheeks. “Someone in the crew might hear you.”

“So what? I’m not ashamed of loving you. I’m sure Etienne feels the same way.”

“Please! If the network finds out—I don’t want to lose this job…”

“You’re still more concerned about your career than about me, Emily?”

A quick glance at Harry’s face told me he wasn’t teasing. “No, of course not…”

“Then why don’t you just relax?”

“But the media—Etienne’s fans—if the word got out about what we’re doing…”

“If word got out, our ratings would likely sky rocket,” Etienne commented, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, though. Our lips are sealed.”

“In all the right places.”

“Harry! You’re impossible.” Despite my embarrassment, though, I couldn’t help laughing. How could I be angry when they both so obviously cared about me?

I looked from one of my lovers to the other, shaking my head. “Whatever am I going to do with you two?”

Over my head, their eyes met.

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