Review Post: The Gilded Cuff by Lauren Smith

Title: The Gilded Cuff
Author: Lauren Smith
Series: Surrender Series Book 1
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
         Genre: Contemporary    

Every passion has its price . . .
Journalist Sophie Ryder has been following Emery Lockwood’s story since she was a little girl. There has always been something in his haunted eyes that she couldn’t resist and now, when she’s certain he holds the key to solving a string of kidnappings, she’ll do anything to speak to him. Even if it means venturing deep into the seductive world of the Gilded Cuff, a luxurious BDSM club on Long Island’s Gold Coast and Emery’s personal playground.
From the moment Sophie enters his shadowy, sensual domain, Emery Lockwood knows this tantalizing new little sub was meant to belong to him. However, Sophie wants more from Emery than just pleasure . . . she wants his past. And that is something he isn’t willing to give—no matter who is asking. But every moment he spends with Sophie, Emery feels his control slipping and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he surrenders to her heart, body, and soul.

WOW..that's all I could think from almost the very beginning.  Lauren Smith surely knows how to keep you wanting more.  The anticipation was killing me...
Sophie Ryder is a journalist with heart.  She's looking to help victims by calling attention to the criminals and making them pay for what they've done.  Some may say she's trying to alleviate the guilt she feels over the kidnapping of her best friend years ago.
Emery Lockwood, Oh my, swoon...was kidnapped when he was 8..he made it back, but his brother didn't.  Well, Sophie is trying to get his story because it resonates SO deeply with her..she wants to catch the perpetrator. So we start in a BDSM club, and it's at once funny and erotic, and you just HAVE to keep reading!

*** "Is there any special reason you have handcuff keys in your kitchen?"
-"Sometimes I like a midnight snack, and I have to chain her to a counter."
 A wicked image of her restrained on the counter, spread wide like a feast, burst into bloom.  Emery's golden head between her thights, his tongue thrusting in and out, his lips sucking on her clit...
"Now that looks like an interesting thought you just had.  Care to share?"
"Nope, not sharing."  She was on fire, and he was just standing there putting dishes in the dishwasher. Ridiculous.  This was all absolutely ridiculous.  ***

The writing is superb, the storyline fabulous.  I love the characters. GAHHHH, I'm so glad I've found this author.  I love romantic suspense, and throw in this erotica...well, I've found a new home. 
I love finding a new series, new author...and I can't wait for more from Lauren Smith!



The Gilded Cuff was born out of a dream I had about two little boys locked inside a closet in a crumbling mansion. I wanted to tell the story of how at least one of the boys escaped and grew up. I had in my head a vision of this wounded, reclusive hero and what he might be like after 25 years of being a sole survivor of a kidnapping. The heroine was an easy idea, a woman with a similar past, having lost her friend to a kidnapping at a young age, she wants to stop other people from committing these crimes. She also has a knack for solving cold cases and wants to tackle the hero’s unsolved kidnapping and find out what really happened to his twin. It was such a compelling idea to write this story and I couldn’t help but want to write it all out to see what happened to the hero Emery and the heroine Sophie.
          My writing process is a strange mixture of traditional/methodical and “go with the flow” and panster. I always start a book with a vision in mind, usually a scene, often the first scene in the story, but sometimes a scene a little later. However, I tend to write chronologically from start to finish in a book. I also write entirely by hand for my complete rough drafts. When I’m done with a manuscript I usually have a huge stack of notebook paper which I then type up to make my official rough draft. I tend to do some editing as the typing goes along and then I have a few friends look over the book for emotional or plot issues and then I submit to my editor (depending on which of my three publishing houses) for contracting.  I usually know how a plot will go in that I tend to have planned the beginning, the end and a few major plot events along the way, but I’m a panster for the most part, which means I write by the seat of my pants and let the characters guide me from scene to scene. The most important part of my writing process is to let the characters tell me their stories.


Amazon best-selling author Lauren Smith is an attorney by day, author by night, who pens adventurous and edgy romance stories by the light of her smart phone flashlight app. She’s a native Oklahoman who lives with her three pets—a feisty chinchilla, sophisticated cat and dapper little schnauzer. She's won multiple awards in several romance subgenres including being an Breakthrough Novel Award Quarter-Finalist and a Semi-Finalist for the Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley Award.

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Emery held still, didn’t make a sound or move until she opened her eyes. When she did finally look up at him, he dropped his head a few inches, his nose touching hers, nuzzling her cheek.
“I’m not like other men, Sophie. Scars are a sign of strength, survival. Someday you’ll be brave enough to show me, and I’ll prove you have nothing to be ashamed of. Now, I am willing to accept the deal you proposed. Are you willing in return?”
She bit her lip. It had been her idea; she had to see it through. She wanted to see it through, even if it scared the living daylights out of her.
“Yes. I’ll do it. Your story, my submission.”
He kissed her with raw possession, his mouth showing her how wicked it would be between them. Wild, dark, and completely free. She wanted that more than anything, the freedom to let go, to give in to the erotic dreams she’d spent years ignoring but never had felt safe enough to give in to before. His kiss broke down every barrier, obliterated every part of herself she tried to hide. Sophie lifted her chin, offering him her mouth, pleading for him. Emery drew a quick breath, eyes widening before his lashes fell to half-mast, his gaze drawn to her lips.
When he took her lips, he dominated her with the depth of his claiming. She breathed him in, like drawing the first heavy breath upon waking from a thousand-year sleep. Sophie came alive in that single moment. The woman she’d been all these years since losing Rachel, the scared little girl fighting against the evils in the world, was gone. In her place was the woman she’d always wanted to be, a woman not afraid to live her life. She couldn’t shut this man out like she had her other friends or her family. No. He demanded she give in to him. Electric tingles pulsed outward from the places they touched, setting her senses on fire, fogging her mind. His kiss consumed her—enveloping her until she was lost, set adrift in a haze of desire, longing, and aching.
She felt his mouth tremble against hers; he seemed to strain to keep his possession under control, to bank the fires of his passion. His tongue slipped between her lips, thrusting in time with the rocking of his hips against hers in tiny circles. He gave up his control and took her over. His body weighed hers down, his hips rocking into hers. He could have done anything to her in that moment, and she’d have agreed to it. Sophie’s inner muscles clenched, empty and wet, yearning for him, but it was his kiss that was her downfall—almost brutal with craving, as though he was a thirsty man savoring his first sip of water from her mouth. All his focus, all his energy seemed to be on her, on her lips.
He tore his mouth from hers, panting roughly. He cursed savagely and withdrew his hands from her body. She blinked in surprise when she realized his hot hands had slid up her outer thighs beneath the mini-skirt. Her chest heaved, her breasts dangerously close to escaping the confines of her corset. Emery’s eyes slowly tracked down from her mouth to her breasts. With a rakish grin he pressed his mouth lightly on the tops of the creamy swells, his tongue darting out as he licked and nibbled a path back up to her lips. He paused, then feathered his lips at the corner of her mouth and brushed his nose against hers playfully.
Sophie whimpered at the loss when he finally drew his head back. It felt like good-bye, but that was foolish; she’d only just met him and agreed to surrender to him. They couldn’t be done.
Emery sighed, his breath uneven against her temple. His body stiffened above hers.
“Go home, Sophie. Forget me, this place. Let it be a peculiar dream, nothing more. I’m not the man for you.” His voice was harsh.
“No,” she whispered fiercely, but she wasn’t as sure of herself as she had been. She’d expected a spanking, some rough kissing. She hadn’t expected to feel so vulnerable and exposed by a man taking control of her body and owning her completely in a mere few minutes.
“You think you can really survive this lifestyle for even one minute? You’re vanilla, sweetheart. You wouldn’t ever let me tie you up and take you the thousand ways I’d like to. You’d cry when my hand came down on your ass in punishment. You’re not ready for this.”
She shook her head, furiously fighting off the swell of tears as her throat constricted. He and he alone had offered her what her secret dreams and longings had called for night after night. The phantom lovers that had tormented her to the brink of violent need in her dreams could never compare to the very real and very heavy weight of his body on hers at that moment. The devastation of that perfect kiss couldn’t be undone. The story could wait…but the need…the desperation to feel alive again…she couldn’t let go of that, not yet.
“No. Take me home with you.” She paused, calculating each word. “Please, Sir.” She was begging. There was no doubt about it for either of them, and as shocked as she was by her own impulse to beg, she prayed he’d let her go with him.
Emery’s lips twisted into a crooked smile. For a moment, she saw the boy in him, the one he’d been before his world had been utterly destroyed. The child wasn’t gone, wasn’t dead. Buried yes, but not dead. He threaded a hand through his hair and remained silent for moment. Shadows of doubt and indecision danced across his face before he finally replied.
“How can I resist?” Emery lifted himself and hauled her to her feet.
Sophie winced. Her back was bruised after lying on the stone floor beneath him. She hadn’t minded at the time—her body had been distracted by a thousand other things. But now her shoulder blades and hips screamed in protest. Emery took her into his arms, rubbing her back, massaging it with knowing hands.
“Come, I’ll summon my driver.”
“Okay.” She tried to remain calm. She was going home with Emery Lockwood. One of the richest men in America. Yet it wasn’t his wealth that made her fight off the rippling tremors at the base of her spine and in her womb. No, it was the fact that she was going home with a man who kissed her like she was the last woman on earth and time was ending. If he kissed like that, sex with him would be the Apocalypse. She’d never survive it.

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