Jarrod Bancroft: The Novel — a collection of five novellas now only 99¢

Life has been too easy for Jarrod Bancroft—rich parents, football star, law degree, high powered job, women by the score. Something is missing. He wants whatever Stonybrook Academy can dish out, much as it scares the hell out of him.

He’s right to be afraid. He arrives at the imposing mansion that houses the Academy and is ushered to his room. Forced out of his clothes and onto his knees, he waits. When someone finally appears, they bestow torment and humiliation on a scale he never imagined.

Jarrod’s only thought is to obey.

Dominatrix Macie Fitzgerald has built her new life in service to those seeking pain and submission. She takes pride in her success. When she accepts Jarrod Bancroft’s application to her next training session, she acknowledges the risk. The ten years that have passed since he was her high school history student have only made him more magnificent in every way.

Will he recognize the woman behind the mask? Will he accept the punishment, the indignities, the ripping away of the emotional wall around his heart he’s built since childhood?

The story of Jarrod Bancroft and his relationship with Macie Fitzgerald becomes much more than scenes of extreme sexual kink. His overpowering presence causes her to violate every rule she ever made for herself—and he’s supposed to be the submissive! And what about the walls around her heart?

But it’s what neither of them expected, the entanglements of his father’s business and the murky criminal underworld that becomes a threat to Jarrod’s life. Can he survive a devastating imprisonment? Will Macie risk everything to save him?

One-click this amazing deal at Amazon today. This is a limited time offer. The price at 99¢ lasts through Wednesday January 3. The price goes to $1.99 for the 4th and 5th and to 2.99 for the 6th and 7th before returning to the regular $3.99 price on January 8. Don’t miss it!

Reviews for Jarrod Bancroft:

“…hotness, explosive sex scenes and most of all one of Lizzie Ashworth’s signature immersive plots, which keep me returning to her books.” Kirsty

“I was pleasantly surprised by the caliber of writing and soon lost myself in the story.” Tracy

“…surprising revelations, steamy sex and desperation…” Donna

*5 stars* I could not put this book down once I started on it. Drue’s Random Chatter

*5 stars* Great book—it was hot and sweet. Thanks for a fun hot read! Kindle Lover “Mom of 4”

*5 stars* …I loved the Jarrod Bancroft series…  Almost immediately I felt the story was good and it had me hooked. A Wanton Book Lover

*5 stars* Great book! Kristin Heller

*5 stars* I couldn’t put this book down. I highly recommend this series to anyone and everyone. Lizzie Ashworth is an amazing author. Breanna

*5 stars* Another scorcher from this amazing author! Bookaholic Mama

*5 stars* Really great hot and sexy story. Cheeky Pee Reads

…great conclusion to a highly erotic and thrilling series. A Closet Full of Books

At first when I saw this “Me, too.” effort sweeping social media, I didn’t think I qualified. I’ve never been raped.

But I have been sexually assaulted, a reality that dawned on me slowly as the week has progressed. That counts. Finally I said, “Me, too.”

At eighteen, I went on a blind date and found myself trapped under a 200-pound linebacker trying to take off my clothes. I wriggled off the bed where he’d tossed me and made my escape.

At nineteen, I endured the disgusting advances of my boss in a part-time job. He’d stand directly behind me while I worked at the cash register, pressing his body against me and sometimes putting his hands on my arms. I quit the job after 30 days.

At twenty, I was married and while he was a good man, he wanted to ‘try things’ which at one point included anal intercourse. I preferred not to, but he insisted. I never knew anything could hurt that bad.

At twenty-two while my husband was overseas in the military, an acquaintance decided he’d have a piece of me. After forcibly kissing and pawing me while I said ‘no’ and ‘stop,’ he picked me up and started toward the bedroom. I realized he wasn’t going to give up and grabbed his hair. I said I would call his boss, who I knew personally, and that I would report him to the police. He put me down and left the house at which point I locked the door. And I did tell his boss, who was a Methodist minister. The offender was an associate pastor.

In my thirties, I was at my office. No one else was around when an acquaintance stopped by to talk about a project. As we stood there, he stepped forward and cupped his hand between my legs. I was like, what? What did he think would happen, that I would fall onto my back in a fit of uncontrolled passion? He had this weird smirk on his face. I stepped away and said nothing. I didn’t want to confirm what he’d done. Afterwards, I refused any phone calls or other contact.

In my mid-forties, I sought out a realtor who owned a property I wanted to buy. When we met to sign the Offer and Acceptance contract, he closed his office door, grabbed me by the arms, and kissed me. I’ll never forget the slip of his tongue along my lips. He was in his 60s.

I saw all these acts–and others I haven’t described–as the dues I paid as a female. I never considered it as abuse or assault. Not until ‘Me, too.’

But now that I’m thinking about it, I see how much of my life and the lives of other women are shaped by men who take it for granted that they have a right to touch women whenever and however they please. Even more, men consider it their right and duty to direct and control women’s place in the world: my father’s decision that the only career suitable for me as woman was to teach school; an employer’s decision that I could run a cash register and stock shelves, but never decide how products were displayed or advertised; or a spouse’s determination to control how I dressed and what jewelry I wore.

More than that, I see how I was brought up to be complicit in such controlling and/or abusive behavior by men. My parents followed a strict religion. Women were not allowed to speak in the church and were assigned, by God, to a submissive position under men, just as men were in submission to God.

I was mildly flattered with the touching. It affirmed my femininity. It made me feel desirable. It was a measure of my value. This was part of the female experience.

It’s been a long hard struggle for me to learn my way out of patriarchy.

My daughters know better. They are among the first generation of women to assert their rights as human beings, not to be touched unless they wish it, not to be assaulted in any way at any time. I’m so proud of them. I’m proud of how far women have progressed in my lifetime.

I’m hoping there will be no more generations who can say “Me, too.”

I’m deep into the second novel of my Roman story of Caerwin and Marcellus. Everything I do is seen from the perspective of 50 AD Rome, which is kind of disconcerting when you’re driving down the highway. Anyway, I thought you might enjoy a snippet of the work as well as a few observations about writing historical fiction.

Research is at the heart of any historical fiction. Without details of place, dress, and social customs, an author can’t create a believable story. Unfortunately, the further back you go in time, the harder it is to find information. For my current research on Rome, I’m regularly frustrated by gaps in the record. I want the story to be as accurate as possible. How do I know if I’ve got the right information?

I confess. Without Google searches, I’d have to fold up my tent and go home. One thing I’ve learned, though, is not to take one Google search as the whole story.

For example, one academic source insisted that women in Rome did not drink wine. Initially, I found a few other sources that affirmed that information. Then I uncovered a new more specific historical survey that explained the wine thing.

Yes, in early Rome, in the nearly six hundred years of its early formation and its existence as the Roman Republic, the Senate made laws and oversaw government operations. Conservatism ruled the day. But in the mid-first century BC, Julius Caesar wrested control from the Senate (for which he was assassinated) and became the first emperor of the Roman Empire. Another four hundred years would follow under the rule of emperors.

Social norms relaxed in the empire. Wine-drinking for women was no longer a crime punishable by death. Whew!

Notoriously, the empire also saw sex scandals, blood sport in the arena, and other excesses which have become the hallmarks by which most of us remember Rome.

As an author, I want to entertain readers with compelling stories about fascinating people. But I also want my stories to reflect the truth about those times. This means the work takes longer. Sometimes hours, days, even weeks elapse as I try to uncover some obscure detail. I’m hoping for a late summer release on the book.

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Augustus Caesar ruled from 27 BC until his death in 14 AD

We might have guessed that a warrior culture destined to conquer the known world would produce some hot bodies. All those marble statues were trying to tell us something. Now researchers have learned that the original marbles were painted with lifelike colors and features.

The colors are not being arbitrarily added–a combination of ultraviolet, infrared and X-ray spectroscopy can apparently divine the approximate hues these statues were painted in. Personally, I like the one on the left. (More info here.)

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Here’s an excerpt from my current work in progress, a continuation of the story of Caerwin and Marcellus. In Book I, released last November, Caerwin is taken captive by Marcellus as his Roman legion crushes her native tribe in Rome’s quest to seize Britannia.

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Caerwin and the other women waited in the carriage. Outside her window, she watched Marcellus. The baggage wagon had pulled forward so that both conveyances waited in the shade of tall trees. A cluster of taverns and eating places lined the wide roadway.

Antius attended Marcellus who stood fully in her view outside the front of the carriage as he began divesting himself of his weapons. No one could enter Rome bearing war gear. Antius received each item, making a stack that she guessed would be put away in the trunk: the sword, the red sash around his midsection, the wide leather straps he wore across his chest bearing his medals of commendation. Caerwin shifted uncomfortably as her mind raced ahead to the inevitable conclusion of this process. Surely he wouldn’t…

The segmented torso armor clanked as it joined the pile, reminding Caerwin of all the nights she had watched him undress from the comfort of his bed. Or discomfort in the certain knowledge of what would come next. She wriggled on the seat, unable to look away.

Marcellus pulled his tunic over his head. Her mouth went dry. It had been weeks since she’d seen him undressed. He stood in the dappled sunlight in nothing but the cloth that wrapped his loins. The gods! Had there ever been a man of such beauty as this? Muscle curved across his shoulders and chest. A narrow line of body hair descended briefly down his lean abdomen. The wound on his bicep left a puckered red line along the bulge. His hands, his forearms, the line of his jaw…

She licked her lips, absorbed fully in this vision of manhood standing just yards away. Everything about him incited her. Her breath came in short light bursts. Her pulse throbbed in her throat—and in less modest places. Moisture crept between her tightly clenched thighs.

Antius unfolded the long white yardage of Marcellus’ toga then sorted out the tunic with its two red stripes. Marcellus paused, standing fully facing Caerwin and meeting her riveted gaze. She gasped at the unmistakable knowledge in his dark eyes, the slight smile curling his lips. By the goddess Sabrina! He had intentionally positioned himself to disrobe in her view. He had purposefully captured her attention to display himself.

He turned slightly and shifted his hips so that the front of his loincloth gave full evidence of his pleasure in her attention. Her eyes closed in the sensation of him over her. She could feel him in her. She squirmed. Her nipples hardened. Her hands filmed with sweat. She wanted him in ways she’d never known possible.

“What mystery holds your adoration?” Junia said. Her forehead wrinkled as she gazed at Caerwin. “I must know.”

Caerwin’s face heated as she tore her gaze away from Marcellus. Just as he had placed himself in her view, he had also made it impossible for Junia or Porcia to see him. Unless Junia came to Caerwin’s position in the carriage.

“I…It’s…” Caerwin stammered. What could she say? Marcellus meant this for her, not to be shared with Junia.

Against her intention, her gaze drew back to Marcellus. The moment had passed. Marcellus had already shrugged into his tunic and Antius had begun to wrap the toga. “An eagle,” she said finally to Junia. “Powerful animal. Quite beautiful.”

“Indeed,” Junia said suspiciously.

~~~

Check out my Roman Pinterest page for some fascinating images and facts about that long lost world.