Prescott Lane is the Amazon best-selling author of Stripped Raw. She's got seven other books under her belt including: First Position, Perfectly Broken, Quiet Angel, Wrapped in Lace, Layers of Her, The Reason for Me, and The Sex Bucket List. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and holds a degree in sociology and a MSW from Tulane University. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren't enough happily ever afters in real life.
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Dr. Lorraine laughs and pulls out her prescription pad. Scribbling something, she turns it to me. The title reads: The sex diet.
I bust out laughing. “You’re writing me a sex prescription.”
“Sort of,” she says. “You ever gone on a diet before?”
“No.”
“The thing with diets is, you usually start off strict.”
"How did I know that?”
“No touching by either party, not even kissing.”
"Wait, not even a hand job?” I ask.


“You’ve got your own hands. Use them.”
She writes jerking off on her script pad, then puts a checkmark beside it. This is the craziest shit.
“Once a day as needed,” she says, writing that down.
“I’ll never make it.”
“How many times do you want?” she asks.
“At least twice, morning and before bed.”
She shakes her head. “Okay, twice a day,” she says and points her pencil at me. “That’s it.”
“I really don’t think I need . . .”
“You won’t be released from therapy until I’m satisfied you’ve completed this,” she says.
She has me by the balls, and she knows it. I can’t believe I’m being forced to agree to this, but what choice do I have? “I haven’t had sex in a couple days. Can I get credit for that?”
“No,” she laughs out. “Start fresh today.”
“Porn?”
“What about it?”
“Can I use it?” I ask.
“You don’t have enough memories to sustain you?” she asks.
“Good point.”
She gets to her feet and sticks out her hand. “Good luck.”
Shaking her hand and smiling, I’m sure I’ve got this.
I bite the inside of my mouth, realizing the old lady has tricked me. It’s Thursday. I’m not seeing her again until Tuesday.
That’s five days! Shit, what have I done?

Toying with Her by Prescott Lane 

Release Date: August 17th 

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Toying with Her, an all-new standalone from Prescott Lane is available NOW!!!

Excerpt:

I know exactly where I want this kiss to go now. We don’t even have to move from this spot. I can take her right up against the door. My lips hover over hers, her chest rising and falling, my cock hard as a rock and pressed against her stomach. The warmth between her legs calls to me, and I bend my knees, pushing into her. She grinds right back. “Just a kiss,” I whisper, unsure whether I’m telling myself or her. We never just had a kiss. We went from kissing to sex in the same breath. And while I want her naked in my bed, I want her for more than one night this time, more than just this summer. I want that more. I’m not going to make it easy for her to dismiss me, dismiss this as a one-night stand or a summer fling. I’m not going to make it easy for her to leave me. I’m going to make it damn near impossible. Winding my hand in her long brown hair, I lower my head, letting my breath tickle the skin of her neck. Her body trembling, gently I trail kisses up her neck, letting my tongue linger ever so slightly. She tries turning her head down to me, desperate for my lips, but I grip her hair a little tighter, controlling the moment. “Rorke,” she begs breathlessly. I know she’s used to being in control. Hell, the woman is responsible for more orgasms than any man could ever be. Lifting my head to look in her eyes, I say, “I know you’re used to being in control of your pleasure. But that ends right now. When you need an orgasm, I’ll provide it. When you want a kiss, I’m your man. You may be the woman on top, but I’m the man holding you up there.”

Toying with Her by Prescott Lane 

Release Date: August 17th 

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Toying with Her, an all-new standalone from Prescott Lane is coming LIVE!!!

Read Today!

About the Author:

Prescott Lane is the Amazon best-selling author of Stripped Raw. She's got seven other books under her belt including: First Position, Perfectly Broken, Quiet Angel, Wrapped in Lace, Layers of Her, The Reason for Me, and The Sex Bucket List. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and holds a degree in sociology and a MSW from Tulane University. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren't enough happily ever afters in real life.

Toying with Her by Prescott Lane 

Release Date: August 17th 

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Toying with Her, an all-new standalone from Prescott Lane is coming August 17th!!!

No one said finding love was easy, but when you invented the world’s best selling vibrator, it’s near impossible. Yep, that’s right. That little toy hidden in your bedside table is my brain child. It’s aptly named Woman on Top. And you know what they say . . . it’s lonely at the top.

So I’m headed home to my Southern roots. It’s supposed to be an extended Summer vacation — nothing more. But Rorke Weston has other plans for me. Plans that not only involve me being on top, but also underneath him.

It’s been said you never forget your first. For me, that’s definitely true. No night has ever lived up to the one I spent with Rorke.

He’s turned into quite a man. Tan from the Southern sun, and stubborn as the day is long. And there’s nothing sweeter than the swipe of his tongue.

Rorke wants his chance. The one we never had. But that was a long time ago. When I still believed in Prince Charming and Happily Ever Afters. Even ten years later, I feel a pull. And it’s not simply Rorke yanking down my panties.

Do second chances really happen? Or is my heart simply toying with me?

Add to GoodReads: https://goo.gl/G7qAFh

Excerpt:

Hammering the nail with one hard pound, I mutter, “Friends?” That should be a cuss word, especially coming out of her full, pink lips. I toss the hammer aside, scanning the mostly-converted barn. Yep, I live in a barn. Well, not any barn. The barn where Sterling and I lost our virginity. I know just the spot. It’s the spot where my bed is now. I didn’t plan it that way. In fact, I didn’t even really think about it until she showed up in town the other day. I came home, walked in, and realized I’ve designed this place around her. Crazy, but true. That woman has burned herself into the deepest parts of my soul. Deeper than even I realized. She was my first, a memory. I thought it was over. I thought we’d only ever get that one night. She had her life, and I had mine. I didn’t see this coming. This old barn sits on the edge of my parents’ property. It sucks to be almost thirty and still living on my parents’ land. Technically, I’m not living at home, but sometimes it feels like it. Unfortunately, buying my own house on my teaching salary isn’t in the cards, so a few years ago, I started converting one of the old barns. Every nail, every piece of wood in here has been touched by me. And it’s almost done. It’s wide open, designed that way mostly because it’s less work than putting up a bunch of walls. The only room with any privacy is the bathroom. I left the distressed rafters from the ceiling exposed and just refinished them. The original sliding barn doors have been replaced with new ones. Almost one whole wall houses my personal library. The only thing left to finish is the kitchen. The upper cabinets are in, but my only appliances are a refrigerator and microwave. So any real meals I eat come from the main house — my parents’ house. My plan is to use part of my summer vacation to finish it up. I look over at the bed. My subconscious must have taken over with that decision. Sterling is etched into the fiber of this place. Maybe that’s the reason I haven’t ever brought a woman to see this place before? Who knows? The subconscious is a tricky bitch. But the memories of that day and night are so vivid. It’s all flooding back now that she’s back. I remember a buddy of mine had rushed me home my freshman year of college, making the two-and-a-half-hour drive from New Orleans in just under two. But I was too late. I wasn’t here when Levi took his last breath. Those few days are a blur. Everything is a blur until the moment I stood up at his funeral to speak; her green eyes were the only thing I saw, her whimpers the only ones I heard. I hadn’t expected her to be there. I hadn’t expected her to fly home from college to say goodbye to my brother, but she had. And I didn’t expect her to find me at my parents’ house after the funeral. I swear, there were hundreds of people there, and it was the loneliest day of my life. I had to get out of there and started walking. I’m not sure if it’s just me, but when I need to think, I tend to walk. That day, Sterling was by my side. We didn’t talk, roaming around the fields until we ended up at this old barn. It was the place that Levi and I escaped to. As little kids, we’d used it as a fort, a clubhouse. Later, it held our bikes and four wheelers. I remember being embarrassed bringing Sterling inside. It was old and filled with our junk. The only place to even sit was an old, beat up sofa. We made good use of it, though. I’ve never been as unprepared for something as I was that day. Unprepared to put my brother in the ground, unprepared to lose my virginity, unprepared to let her walk away. I chuckle remembering exactly how unprepared I was when our naked bodies first touched. My brain thought “condom.” But I didn’t have one. My dick promised it’d pull out. But I had no idea the kind of willpower that would take. I swear to God, I had every intention of pulling out. I thought for sure that she’d kill me, and quickly launched into the lamest apology in the history of the universe. Just thinking about it makes me cringe. I was never so thankful for anything in my whole life as when she kissed me to shut me up, whispering she was on the pill. Some might think it’s a dick move to be banging a girl the day you bury your twin brother. But it wasn’t like that at all. It wasn’t cheap. I didn’t think of it as a one-night stand, even though technically it was. It’s impossible to explain. It was us clinging onto life, onto each other. Emily Brontë wrote, "Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” And after that night, our souls have been forever linked. Every single second of that night is burned into my mind, my heart, my skin. After that night, we stayed in touch for a long time — email, phone calls. But we were thousands of miles apart. And our paths never crossed again. If I was at home on break, she wasn’t. It just seemed like it wasn’t meant to be. She is the one that got away. We never got our chance. Now she’s back, and she thinks we can be friends? I spent my entire childhood and teenage years being “friends” with her. She wants to be friends? That’s fine. I’ll be her friend. But I’ll be damned if that’s all I am.

About the Author:

Prescott Lane is the Amazon best-selling author of Stripped Raw. She's got seven other books under her belt including: First Position, Perfectly Broken, Quiet Angel, Wrapped in Lace, Layers of Her, The Reason for Me, and The Sex Bucket List. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and holds a degree in sociology and a MSW from Tulane University. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren't enough happily ever afters in real life. 

The Sex Bucket List by Prescott Lane
Release Date: March 9th
Genre: Contemporary Romance

Excerpt:

Our kiss is hard and rough, and it has my legs clenching together. His hands go to my ass, pulling my dress up slightly, lifting me up onto the edge of my desk, grinding against me. Wearing a wrap dress today was a good call. I usually wear wrap dresses because they are no fuss, add a nice cinch to my waist, and feel like pajamas. Easy access wasn’t one of the reasons, but I’m thankful for it now.

Wrestling with his shirt, I yank it out of his pants, desperate to feel his skin under my fingertips. His tongue finds my neck, and he kisses a path along my collarbone. I thrust against every hard inch of him. He pulls on the tie of my dress, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Picking me up, he pushes me up against the floor-to-ceiling window.

I can’t remember the last time a guy banged me up against a wall, or a window, for that matter. This is a perk of being with a younger man. Am I really going to do this? In my office? In the middle of the day? He must feel my hesitation because he lowers my legs to the ground, flipping me towards the window, his hard dick pushing up against my ass, his warm breath tickling my neck.

He whispers in my ear, “Number 19. Orgasm in a public place. I’m saying this counts.” I look down the few stories to the busy Atlanta street, the neighboring building. Roughly, he forces my legs apart with his foot then reaches his hand between my legs and pushes my panties to the side. “Your list belongs to me,” he says, his voice hard.

Read Today!

About the Author:

Prescott Lane is the Amazon best-selling author of Stripped Raw. She's got six other books under her belt including: First Position, Perfectly Broken, Quiet Angel, Wrapped in Lace, Layers of Her, and The Reason for Me. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and holds a degree in sociology and a MSW from Tulane University. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren't enough happily ever afters in real life.

Connect with the Author: