Review + excerpt : The Deep End - Vilma Iris | Lifestyle Blogger

Enter a decadent sensual world where gorgeous alpha males are committed to fulfilling a woman’s every desire…

Olivier isn’t sure what he’s gotten himself into when he joins the Honey Club, only that a dark part of him hungers for the lifestyle offered by this exclusive club. Here, no boundary will be left untested…and one’s deepest fantasies will become an exquisite reality.

When Amélie invites Olivier to surrender, she gives the alpha submissive what he craves. Soon they both find themselves falling harder than they ever anticipated—but as their connection deepens, the truth about Olivier’s past could destroy everything…



Book 1

Can be read as a standalone

Book Type:

Erotic Romance

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Review + Excerpt: The Deep End
By Kristen Ashley

Review + excerpt : The Deep End

Avid KA readers get ready—this is a new side to queen-of-alphas Kristen Ashley. She’s stoked the flame, making this erotic romance burn hot, bright and extra kinky. I knew this would be different, but I felt—hoped—I’d find familiar KA ground to give me the love story I craved. And that she did, with a whole lot more.

Enter a decadent sensual world where gorgeous alpha males are pleasure slaves committed to fulfilling a woman’s every desire. At the elite Honey club, no boundary will be left untested, and one’s darkest desires will become a sensual reality.

If you’ve read the blurb, you can feel the tone, sense the difference, anticipate what’s to come. Ashley opens the doors to BDSM club ‘The Bee’s Honey’, where dark desires are confidently explored, every fantasy whipped, cropped and spanked into reality.

From the beginning, I read with rapt fascination, tantalized by the world, by the fact that this story featured a woman Dominatrix and an alpha submissive. My mind was blown and I couldn’t put it down. My fascination was anchored by a very real love story—the one I expected and hoped would weave through every scene.

It was a beautiful, intense mix of eroticism, kink and romance.

We meet Amèlie, a woman well known within the dark lit club, a Dominatrix famous for her skills but also one who longed to find a future with a man who was class. Who would get her. Who could love her.

Enter Olivier, a beast of a man whose confidence owned a room. He was new to Honey, trepidatious to what would come, but knowing the dark desires that burned within sought release.

So when Amèlie leads Olivier into a room, neither knew it could be as good as it got. A challenge for them both, a collision of wills, an overabundance of want and need and pleasure.

But as one night turns into another, and yet another, they begin to fall for each other in a world defined by rules of play. And when the scene is over, they each wonder if what they’re feeling could survive the light of day.

I urge you to relinquish control and submit to the story openly. It’s quite the ride, serious kink, hot as hell but with so much tenderness and emotion too. On top of all that goodness that Ashley gives us, she reminds us to embrace life and love—to seek your happiness, fight for it, not let it go. Not let misunderstandings and preconceptions get in the way of it. To be fully you, especially when you find a person, or place, that allows you to do so free of judgement.

Kristen Ashley will push your limits with this first sizzling installment in the Honey series, but if you keep an open mind, I promise, you’ll love every minute of it.

At that moment, for the first time in years, she was paying no attention to Stellan.

This was because Talia’s tall frame shifting out of the way offered an unhindered view of something else that had slipped in without her notice.

And gazing at him, Amélie went still.

As did her breath.

And her heartbeat.

Leaning a shoulder against the wall beyond the edge of the bar, six or seven feet from the door to the playrooms, he was surveying the scene as if he wasn’t part of it.

Or as if it was he who was on the prowl.

But although a Dominant could mingle freely in the open space, this would be done with some intent.

If they were on the hunt, they’d be at a booth.

Subs were not allowed to sit in a booth unless the invitation was extended. They populated the floor, on display, it was requisite.

In the mesh of bodies, a sub could be identified in a variety of ways. The cast of their gaze. Their bearing. Jewelry that declared their status.

And their position in the hunting ground.

No Dominant would linger there like he was, partially for that reason. Clear communication and transparent messages were key in their world. No Dom would give the impression of being a sub.

This was explained at length during membership orientation.

That magnificent beast was a sub.

An alpha-sub, assuredly.

It came from his sheer size, like a cloak stitched to his skin he had no hope of shrugging off (not that he’d wish to).

He had to be six five, perhaps taller. His dark suit and mono-chromatic shirt necessarily tailored for his physique for there were very few men on this earth that had it. His shoulders as wide as a log. His chest a veritable wall. The muscles Amélie had no doubt were hidden under his clothing apparent in the exposed line of his throat. It wasn’t that he had no neck. But that lethal shank of corded, sinewy muscle could not be established and maintained if the rest of him didn’t match precisely.

She knew he was alpha beyond that. His stance at the wall, casual and self-assured, it was openly cocky. He knew his allure. He knew his beauty. He knew even if he wasn’t exactly your type, every being would understand with base instinct his attraction.

He also knew how to use this. All of it. It was his art as sure as reading it on him was Amélie’s.

From what she could tell, his hair was dark blond, the thickness of it, how it was longer at the top, clipped short at neck and ears was so appealing, she was willing to make that single allowance for she preferred her toys to have dark hair.

She made that allowance, but if she had her way, and she often did, he’d grow it longer so there’d be more of it to fist her fingers into as a means to use to make him serve her will.

His facial features only heightened his appeal that already, with the rest of him, defied belief.

A strong brow over eyes she couldn’t see the color of from her distance. Hollowed cheeks under high cheekbones and over a firm, cut, clean-shaven jaw. And a large nose that was openly pugilistic, the dent at the top of the bridge not created by God but by a break that he didn’t deem important enough to have set properly.

Staring at him, utterly incapable of not doing it openly, she felt the insides of her thighs tingle. And her nipples were hard buds, the restriction of the lace of her bra suddenly excruciating.


Now that was whisky.

“Oh my, Leigh, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Mirabelle asked. And before she could answer, her friend went on, “It’s like he was made for you.”

It was, indeed.

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One Comment:

  1. Jessica said:

    Thank you so much! ~Jessica, InkSlinger PR


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