Private Dancer

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Torn between two worlds, Alicia struggles to find a way to walk with her faith, but still dance with sin.

When Alicia gets caught in the conflict between her father’s church and the Satin Club owners Bas and Remy, she is the only person willing to act as a mediator. Alicia is intrigued by the high class gentleman’s club and its two sexy proprietors. She tries to stay impartial, but the sensuality of erotic dancing pulls at her, begging her to indulge.

Bas and Remy are more than happy to satisfy her curiosities and secret desires. Both offer dark temptations she can’t resist and the provocative dancing and passion awaken something long repressed. For the first time, the preacher’s daughter feels like her own person – yet at her core, she’s still a good girl. As the tension between the warring parties reaches fever pitch, she struggles to find what is right for her.

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About the author

Kimberly Dean is an award-winning author of over twenty books of romance and erotica. Her work has been sold around the world and translated into French, German, and Japanese. She enjoys the freedom and creativity allowed in writing erotic romance, especially with all the interesting cross-genres that have been exploding on the scene. When not writing, she enjoys movies, sports, travelling, music, and sunshine.

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45 total

Additional Information

HarperCollins UK
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Published on
Dec 20, 2012
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Fiction / Coming of Age
Fiction / Fantasy / Romantic
Fiction / General
Fiction / Romance / General
Fiction / Romance / New Adult
Fiction / Romance / Romantic Comedy
Fiction / Women
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Content Protection
This content is DRM protected.
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Eligible for Family Library

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Harvest moon: a time of rejoicing after the crops have been harvested and the wood stored for the long winter ahead. At a harvest moon dance, a boy watches a spirited girl dancing and his life is forever changed by her grace and form. Afraid to ask her for a dance, he watches glumly as she dances away the night in the arms of others. The next year, he vows, will be different…

When I was a boy my father explained that the moon was full and that was how we determined the months of the seasons that came and went from warm to cold and back again.

He told me that the Harvest Moon was a special time. A time when the crops of summer were harvested and stored away for the coming cold and how the people were happy that their work in the fields and the woods would see them through.

Sometimes when it was large and full, the moon took on colors that it seldom did, ranging from a blue tint, to a deep yellow, to gold, to orange and sometimes an angry red with dark lines of clouds across the face. Those were not good harvest moons he said, but I did not understand.

As the days grew shorter and the evenings cooled, there was less work to do; distant families visited, and we went from farm to farm to renew old acquaintances and share the fruit of the harvest. It was a very good time of the season.

It was always planned and adjusted for the time of a full moon, but the harvest season ended with a huge festival that the entire village attended. Everyone brought food and tables abounded with good things to eat; smells of cooking meats and baking things filled the air and music came from all directions; it was the best time of the whole season.

There was the dancing too, at night, on a raised platform with torches lighting the night. I never paid much attention; happy to roam and run and cause mischief with my friends and eat and tease and run some more until I was exhausted and the evening deepened and it was time to leave.

This harvest moon was different.

The friends I ran with all seemed to find girls to wander away with and I found myself alone, watching the dancers on the stage.

And this girl... oh, my, this girl... glided across the dancing area not in any human fashion; but floating, swaying, bending, moving in ways I had never seen before. I could not look away from her.

My eyes were entranced with her long dark hair vibrant in motion, the low cut bodice of her flowing gown, her uplifted arms in movement and rhythm, her delicate fingers and feet seeming fantasy-like in the shifting and glowing lights. My eyes were wide, my mouth open and my heart raced. I had never felt such things before.
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