“The race will be a fight to the death finish,
​and that’s not even the actual campaign.”
Meet Barrett Callahan in Running Mate by Katie Ashley!

​Barrett

The name’s Barrett Callahan. Yeah, that Barrett Callahan—the one the press dubbed “Bare” after those naked sexting pictures surfaced. At twenty-five, I was armed with an MBA from Harvard, an executive position at my father’s Fortune 500 company, a penthouse, and a different piece of delectable eye candy in my bed every weekend. I had a life most men dreamed of. But then my father decided to run for president, and my playboy lifestyle became a liability to his campaign that was built on family values. My “makeover” comes in the form of a fake fiancée who I don't even get to choose--one who is an uptight, choirgirl acting priss but also sexy-as-hell. 

Addison

My latest relationship had gone down in flames, and I was drowning in a sea of student loans when in true Godfather status, James Callahan made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Seven figures for seven months on the campaign trail pretending to be the adoring fiancée of his son, Barrett. As soon as he won the election, our engagement would be dissolved amicably for the press, I was free to ride off into the sunset a million dollars richer, and because of the NDA, no one would be the wiser. Sure, I’d never met the guy, but I’d been a theater nerd in high school. I could pull off any role from Lady Macbeth to Maria Von Trapp. But that was before I met my fake fiancé—the infuriating, self-absorbed, egotistical, drop-dead-sexy King of the Manwhores.

Read Chapter 1 & 2 on Wattpad HERE

Katie Ashley is a New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon Best-Selling author. She lives outside of Atlanta, Georgia with her daughter, Olivia, and her two very spoiled dogs. She has a slight obsession with Pinterest, The Golden Girls, Harry Potter, Shakespeare, Supernatural, Designing Women, and Scooby-Doo.
With a BA in English, a BS in Secondary English Education, and a Masters in Adolescent English Education, she spent 11 1/2 years educating the Youth of America aka teaching MS and HS English until she left to write full time in December 2012.

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 Sports + Bad Boy + Second Chance
The Hard Way by Katie Ashley is NOW LIVE!

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“Is this one of those old-timey record players?”
“A Victrola,” I answered as I joined him.
Cade snapped his fingers. “That’s right. There was one of these at my grandparents’ house.” He eyed the contraption curiously. “Does it work?”
“Sure.” I set my cup down before winding up the crank. Then I placed the needle on the record, and a slow instrumental tune came out of the Victrola’s horn. At Cade’s groan, I grinned. “Not a fan of classical music?”
“No. It’s more about the fact that it’s one of Strauss’s waltzes.” 
Cocking my brows at him, I asked, “You know Strauss?”
With a snort, Cade said, “Don’t look so surprised, and no, I didn’t learn about him in Harlington’s music appreciation class either.”
I held up my hands. “I wasn’t alluding to anything.”
“Yes, you were alluding, as you say, to the stereotype of me being an uncivilized jock,” Cade teased in a snooty-sounding voice.
“I’m sorry. I’ve got to stop doing that. You really are so much more than a jock.”
He swept his hand to his heart. “Why, thank you.”
“So tell me how you know Strauss.”
“I have waltzed at ten cotillions and three debutante balls.”
“Wow. That’s quite impressive.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve never been to a cotillion or deb ball.”
“No, I mean, haven’t you ever waltzed before?”
I laughed. “Oh yeah, I often practice my dance skills out in the corn.”
“Every lady should know how to dance.”
“But I’m not a lady.”
Cade smiled. “Yeah. You are.” When I started to protest, he said, “Money and position aren’t what make a lady. It’s what’s inside you that counts.”
His words and his tone caused the breath to wheeze out of my lungs. Just when I thought he couldn’t surprise me any more with the things he said, he went and said something like that. “Thank you,” I finally mumbled. 
“You’re welcome.” The world seemed to slow to a crawl around us as we stood there staring at each other. The sound of Cade clapping his hands together caused me to jump. “Okay. One waltz lesson coming up.”
“I’m going to warn you that you’re probably going to regret this. I’m the worst dancer ever.”
“How can anyone who plays the piano suck at dancing?”
“I’m not sure how it’s possible, but trust me, it is.”
Cade laughed. “We’ll see.”
A tingling jolt of electricity shot through me when Cade took one of my hands in his. After he put his other hand on the small of my back, he drew me closer to him. Even with all the times I had sat next to him while we worked on our project, I hadn’t been this close. 
“Now you put your other hand on my shoulder.”
“Okay.”
“Step back with your left foot and then bring your right to the side.” After I followed Cade’s lead, he said, “Now bring your left foot to your right, and then step forward with your right.”
My mind spun as I frantically tried processing Cade’s instructions. Somehow it managed to click together, and I followed his lead. “Hey, you’ve got it,” he remarked with a smile. 
“It’s not because of me—it must be the teacher.” I glanced up at him and smiled. “Sports, brains, and dancing; you’re really a true triple threat.” 
“You forgot devastating good looks and charm.”
I grinned. “Does that make you a quintuple threat?”
“Make it a sextuple threat if you throw in the money.”
“I should have known you’d find a way to have ‘sex’ in your title.”
Cade threw his head back and laughed. “Always busting my balls, Prescott.”
“Yep. Just consider me your Little Ball Buster like Judith in Walking Dead was called Little Ass Kicker.”
Cade’s brows rose in surprise. “You watch Walking Dead?”
“Sure I do.”
“That surprises me.”
“Why?”
“I guess I just figured you only watched pretentious stuff like Downton Abbey.”
“Downton Abbey is not pretentious.”
Cade grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes that you watch it.”
“I certainly do.”
“At least I’m 1 and 1 on picking the TV shows you like.”
“While you know me pretty well, you have a lot more to learn, Mr. Hall,” I teased. 
“I look forward to you educating me.”
As I stared into his face, Cade’s expression grew serious. The idea of educating him suddenly seemed to take on a deeper meaning—one of both mental and physical knowledge. 
Cade dipped his head to where our mouths were just inches apart. His breath fanned across my cheek, causing me to shiver. I stared into his eyes, silently pleading with him to go ahead and kiss me. We’d already been down this road before. Since Thanksgiving night, I’d wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on mine again. 
When he finally kissed me, it sent energy humming all over my body. I’d kissed other boys, but it had never felt the way it did with Cade. It was all-consuming of my mind, body, and spirit. 
Considering his experience, it shouldn’t have been too surprising that Cade was a good kisser. What surprised me the most was the emotion behind his kiss. It ran so much deeper than just a physical act, as if he was putting his heart and soul into kissing me. 
Cade deepened the kiss by plunging his tongue into my mouth. It tangled along with mine in a waltz of its own composing. My hand snaked up his back to capture the hair at the base of his neck, and I ran my fingers through the silky strands, marveling at how much softer it was than I had imagined. 
The Victrola ran out of steam, and the only sound filling the room was heavy breathing. At the loss of music, Cade stopped leading me around the floor, and his hands slid underneath my buttocks. He gripped the globes of my ass before hoisting me up to wrap my legs around his, and I molded myself tighter against him. I couldn’t seem to get enough of him—the way his strong arms felt around me, his thick waist against my legs, his broad, muscular back underneath my hands. Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I wanted all of him. 
When we crashed into a chest of drawers, Cade momentarily released my lips to breathlessly ask, “Are you okay?” 
“Mmhmm.” I gazed into his hooded eyes. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” 
I rubbed myself against the ridge in Cade’s pants, causing him to groan against my throat. “Jesus, Prescott, if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to stop.” When I did it again, my action was rewarded with a growl. 
Cade’s wild eyes glanced around the room before leading us over to the wide red settee in the back corner. We collapsed onto the smooth velvet material. I widened my legs to allow Cade’s hips between them and his mouth sought out mine in a frantic kiss. 
As our tongues battled against each other, Cade’s hand came to my breast. He kneaded and cupped it over the fabric of my uniform, my nipples hardening under his touch. When he began undoing the buttons of my dress, he broke the kiss to glance at me as if asking my permission. At my nod, he practically ripped the remaining buttons open. 
He gave me a sheepish grin as he pulled me into a sitting position. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay,” I said as I slid my arms out of the sleeves. 
My breath hitched when Cade’s arms snaked around my back to undo my bra. Once it was unhooked, I couldn’t help bringing my arms to cover my chest and keep the bra in place. I hated that in this moment I couldn’t seem to get past my modesty, or my fear that my average-sized chest would turn him off. 
Cade tilted my chin with his fingers, forcing me to look him in the eye. “You sure you’re okay with this, Prescott?”
“I am, I promise.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I’m just a little scared,” I whispered. 
“That I’ll hurt you?” Cade questioned with a wounded look. 
I gave a quick jerk of my head. “That you won’t like what you see.”
“Huh?”
“You’ve been with so many other girls. I’m afraid I won’t measure up.”
His expression darkened. “That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
I ducked my head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help the way I feel.”
Cade cupped my face in his hands. “There’s only right here and right now, and there’s no one else but you and me. None of the past, just us and this moment.”
My heartbeat thrummed wildly at his sentiment. “Okay,” I murmured as I stared deeply into his eyes. 
“And you could never not be beautiful to me. I like everything about you, both inside and out.” At what must’ve been my incredulous look, Cade grinned. “And I’m not just saying that so you’ll let me in your pants.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” Deep down, I knew it to be the truth. If Cade had really wanted to just screw me, he would have attempted it over the past two months. 
“I wouldn’t be here tonight if I didn’t want to be with you for the long haul.”
Once again, my heart began to beat so erratically that I felt a little dizzy. “Really?”
He nodded. “You’re all I need, Avery.”

Cade Hall has always been the golden boy of the gridiron. Because of his talent at football, coupled with his father’s wealth, he’s always gotten his way. But when a night of drunken debauchery lands him in hot water with the college athletic board, neither his influential father nor his charming grin can save him. He finds it a total buzz kill when he is sentenced to community service with troubled youth at an inner-city shelter. But his nightmare is only beginning when his greatest high school regret is the very one in charge of the program, and she has him by the balls in more ways than one.

For Avery Prescott, senior year was a nightmare of epic proportions, and Cade Hall played the lead villain. After she fled her small town for college in the bright lights of Atlanta, she thought she had escaped the painful memories of her past. She never could have imagined Cade would waltz through the door of the outreach program she presided over. But Avery has news for Cade--she isn’t the same shy, doormat of a girl she was in high school. Since she holds Cade's football future in her hands, she’s more than ready to make payback a real bitch.

Will the two stay in the defensive zone or discover that sometimes life's greatest lessons are learned the hard way?

Katie Ashley is a New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon Best-Selling author. She lives outside of Atlanta, Georgia with her daughter, Olivia, and her two very spoiled dogs. She has a slight obsession with Pinterest, The Golden Girls, Harry Potter, Shakespeare, Supernatural, Designing Women, and Scooby-Doo. 
With a BA in English, a BS in Secondary English Education, and a Masters in Adolescent English Education, she spent 11 1/2 years educating the Youth of America aka teaching MS and HS English until she left to write full time in December 2012.
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Katie Ashley's newest release
​Subordination: Chronicles of a Domme is NOW LIVE!
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​ & be sure to ONE-CLICK!

Keeping his head bowed, he asked, “Mistress, will you give me the honor of pleasuring you?”
“No.”
“But why?”
I swept my hands to my hips. “Are you being insubordinate with me?”
“No, mistress. I just wish you would consider my offer.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I want to please you. I want to make you come as hard as you made me.”
“Sorry. The answer is still no,” I replied as I took the rope over to the sink to be disinfected.
When I turned around, surprised filled me at the sight of William on his feet again. His gaze still remained averted from mine. “Look at me,” I commanded.
He raised his eyes to stare at me full on as I walked back over to him.  Although he was trying to mask it, I could tell he was hurt by my refusal. “I want you to understand that it’s not you—you didn’t do anything to displease me. I don’t receive pleasure from any of my subs.”
“You should,” he insisted.
Cocking my head at him, I said, “You should remember how to talk to your mistress.”
Instead of appearing apologetic, he took a step forward. “May I at least kiss you?”
As I gazed at his earnest expression, I didn’t see what it could hurt. “Fine. A kiss and then you go on your merry little way.” I poked a finger into his breastbone. “And you tip me well.”
William smiled. “Yes, Mistress.”
I stood toe to toe with William and tilted my chin. “Kiss me,” I instructed.
He dipped his head, and he closed his eyes. At the slight brush of his lips against mine, a shiver of anticipation shot down my spine. I felt like I was thirteen again with a boulder of anxiety in my stomach as the boy I liked kissed me behind our barn. When he deepened the kiss, he brought his arms around me, molding me to him. The kiss was everything—passionate, intimate, and affectionate. It felt like rediscovering a lost emotion—a lost part of me.   
Needing more, I sucked his tongue inside my mouth. The moment I gave him the green light, a switch flipped inside William. The reverent way his mouth had worshipped mine was replaced with a desperate conquering. His tongue battled along with mine, sucking, licking, devouring. An ache began to build between my thighs, and I pressed my hips against William’s.  
His hand left the small of my back to wrap around my braid. He tugged on it, pulling me back to look at him. “I want to taste every part you, not just your mouth.”
Breathless from our exertions, it took me a moment to find my voice. “I told you I don’t do that.”
“Why should you deny yourself?”
Staring into his handsome face, I wondered the same thing. All these years, I’d never taken any pleasure for myself. There had been subs I’d been attracted to like Owen. Not all of them were interested in reciprocating pleasure, but many were. And I told them all no.
As I stood molded against William’s warm, overpowering body like a second flesh, I didn’t want to argue anymore. I wanted to let go. I was a twenty-four year woman who had pretty much sacrificed her life for work, school, and her family. I couldn’t remember the last time an orgasm hadn’t come from a vibrating device.
Dipping his head, William’s breath was warm against my ear. “Please let me make you come.”
At the thought of what his mouth could do on my pussy, I whispered, “Yes.”

When Sophie Jameson first became a domme at Club 1740, it was more out of financial necessity than it was for personal pleasure and sexual exploration. But over the years as she rocked her leather corsets and boots while wielding every crop and flogger imaginable, she grew to love the thrill and adulation that her clients brought her. But all along, her path in life and her heart was with a different profession—one she was planning to embark on at the summer’s end.

And then he changed everything. Tall, dark, impossibly built—William was the complete opposite of whatever image a male sub conjured up. After all the subs, Sophie finally felt true lust and desire. Although he was the proud stallion who needed breaking, he became the one to make her break all her rules and let down all her walls.

But it was just supposed to be for that one night, but an accidental encounter days later outside Club 1740’s protected walls had the two seeing each other in a different light—as simply Sophie and William, not Domme and sub. While they should have parted ways, they couldn’t. While they should never have gone back to her place, they did.

​And that simple mistake has a serious price for both of them.

My steps faltered as I did a double take at the sight of what appeared to be a shirtless and shoeless Henry Cavill standing before me. The idea wasn’t entirely far-fetched since we’d had a few celebrities in the club. But as one of the strobe lights flickered to illuminate more of his face, I realized he was just a look-alike. His hair was lighter while his eyes were dark brown, rather than blue.
He was impossibly tall, and I couldn’t help staring at his muscular chest with its dusting of dark hair that led to an oh-so-happy trail that ended at the low hanging waistband of his jeans. He had an aura of importance about him, and I couldn’t help wondering who he was in real life.
He held my gaze for a moment before averting his eyes to the ground. “Good evening, Mistress.”
A submissive? I would have never imagined it in a million years. Even though I knew from my own clients that submissive men weren’t simpering pussies, there was something about this man that screamed dominant. Of course, the fact he was shoeless should have given his sub status away, but he wasn’t wearing a collar. A prime piece of submissive man like this usually belonged to someone. And if he didn’t, he would normally be snatched up by a domme practically before he got through the door, least of all across the dance floor. I couldn’t help wondering what his story was. More than anything, I wondered what it might be like to have a session with him. I so rarely took anyone on outside my usual clients. But it might be something fun for my last night in the club.
To test his true submissiveness, I commanded, “Look at me.”

He jerked his gaze from my boots to meet mine. “Are you looking to play tonight?”

“Yes, I am. And if it pleases you, mistress, I would be honored if you chose me.”

His voice. Sweet Jesus, was it was panty-melting. It totally went with his body—strong, firm, and deep. Although he had answered my question well, I still had my doubts. With all the strength I had, I reached out to firmly slap his cheek. The resounding smack echoed around us. A man playing at being a sub would have a distinct reaction. His eyes would darken with the rage seething within him at being treated so disrespectfully. 
Oh, but not him. His face remained impassive. Yet at the same time, he shuddered, and his dark eyes flashed with a combustive mix of lust and desire. His reaction caused moisture to pool between my thighs. He reminded me of our horses back on the farm. He was a spirited stallion who needed a firm hand to break him, and damn me to hell if I didn’t want to be the one to do it.
Wanting to build the anticipation, I patted his cheek where I had previously slapped him. “I’ll think about it.”
“Yes, Mistress.” He bowed his head before backing up.
Damn, someone had truly trained him well. I stepped past him to head to the bar. My mouth had run dry, and I desperately needed a drink.

Katie Ashley is a New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon Best-Selling author. She lives outside of Atlanta, Georgia with her daughter, Olivia, and her two very spoiled dogs. She has a slight obsession with Pinterest, The Golden Girls, Harry Potter, Shakespeare, Supernatural, Designing Women, and Scooby-Doo.
With a BA in English, a BS in Secondary English Education, and a Masters in Adolescent English Education, she spent 11 1/2 years educating the Youth of America aka teaching MS and HS English until she left to write full time in December 2012.

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