Kick-Ass Heroines with Doris O’Connor

Kick ass heroines

What image springs to your mind when you think of kick ass heroines? In my mind I always conjure up images of Xena the Warrior princess.


Now, as much I enjoyed watching that program, I reckon not many of us would get away with that outfit, let alone the swinging of swords and chopping folk’s heads off.  Tempting thought, mind you, especially at a certain time of the month.


Or in my case it’s first thing in the morning, when people approach me without the much needed coffee. Never, ever, do that! Don’t! You’ve been warned!

Let’s get back to literary heroines, however. I’m a great fan of strong heroines. Not necessarily kick-ass, though the heroine in my latest release certainly does kick ass, quite literally in the end. No, I like women who possess inner strength. Who know what they want and need and are not afraid to go out and get it.

They can come in all shapes and sizes, though mine tend to be curvy, not always beautiful in the traditional sense, though of course their heroes always think so. They may or may not come across as strong. You will not find them wielding swords and taking down the bad guys—usually. They are also not afraid to embrace their femininity and let the man or men in their life take charge, in the bedroom at least.

You see the one thing I really don’t like is when Authors turn their heroines into man-hating know it alls. Even if they find the one they fall in love with, they still have an attitude of men are meh. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m rather fond of men on the whole. I love my Hubby dearly, and I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

Then there are the heroines that are almost masculine, cut throat individuals who live for their career, and do their utmost to be seen as one of the ‘guys’, and let’s not forget the feminists.

My gran, may she rest in peace, was one of the women who burnt her bra, campaigned for equal rights etc. yet she was one of the most feminine women I know. She could put her hand to anything, a trait I have inherited. Change a tyre, put up the wall paper, plumb in the washing machine—no problem.

I can do all of that, but I chose not to, most of the time, because Hubby enjoys doing those things for me. Why get your hands dirty so to speak, when you don’t have to?

My heroines, too, are more than capable. True feminism lies in choice, however, and they, too, choose to submit to their heroes. Some more so than others, it has to be said.

Now, the heroine in Under the Alpha’s Protection is a bit of a geek. She is also fiercely independent, so much so that she walks home from her shift at the late night café instead of calling her friend Raoul for help. It’s a move that costs her dearly as she ends up being attacked. Nikita being Nikita, however, she manages to get away and seeks refuge with Raoul.

Raoul is livid that the woman he’s loved for five years has been attacked on his territory. Nikita may be human and his friend, but she is also the mate his wolf has chosen and as circumstances throw them together, he has a devil of a job reigning said wolf back in.

Add to that the fact that he is a Dom, and well… things get interesting. Surely no one as level headed and independent as he knows Nikita to be, would ever willingly submit to any man? Would she?


Let me know in the comments what you consider a kick ass heroine to be, and you could win a copy of Under The Alpha’s Protection.

I’d love to hear your take on it.



Nikita Ashton and Raoul Saint Germain have been friends for five years, so when Nikita is attacked, there is only one place she can run to—straight into Raoul’s arms.

Raoul is the Alpha of his pack and he is furious that the woman he loves has been harmed on his territory. Were it not for the fact that Nikita does not believe in anything even remotely paranormal, his wolf would have claimed her aeons ago.

Nikita is in need of tender, loving care, not his baser needs that are threatening to overtake him.

However, when Nikita admits that she knows about his being in the lifestyle, the Dom in him cannot resist the challenge to make her his submissive.

Blissfully happy in their new Dom/sub relationship, everything changes when Nikita is kidnapped. Can Raoul get to her in time to save her life?


“Drink, squirt.”

Nikita didn’t even think to argue, so enthralling was his deep voice, and she drank the cool liquid eagerly, until he took the water bottle away and his hot, firm lips touched hers. Her barely banked down arousal flared into an inferno again, and she moaned when he broke the kiss and licked along her jaw. His curiously rough tongue reminded her of her cat at home, and created exquisite friction along her sweat slicked skin.

“Get on the bed for me and lie down on your front.” The whispered words into her ear galvanized her into action, and he murmured his approval.

“Good girl. I’m going to restrain you now, my sweet girl. Just your arms to start with, and then I’m going to fuck you.”

She couldn’t stop her moan at those words, and he laughed, the sound so low and sexy, Nikita was sure she could come from listening to his voice alone. He ran a hand down her spine until he reached her butt, and then he scraped his nails along the tender flesh. The burn was pain and bliss all wrapped into one, and she jumped when he parted her ass cheeks.

He dropped a kiss on her anus and slipped a finger into her pussy causing her to pant, and her internal muscles pulled tight, and tried to draw the digit inside. Raoul laughed softly and slipped another finger into her desperately clenching cunt at the same time as his tongue pushed through the tight ring of her muscle that had never been breached before. Warmth spread through her as that tongue probed in tune with his fingers in her pussy. He took her right to the edge and then withdrew.

“Nooooo.” The high-pitched wail leaving her mouth didn’t sound like her voice at all. Raoul paid no heed to her whimpering. Instead he grasped one of her arms and pulled it upwards, and then there was the sound of Velcro and something soft and thick wrapped around her wrist.

He ran his finger underneath the restraint, and then his face appeared in her blurry vision. Unlike earlier when her mind had played tricks on her, this time round all she saw was Raoul in all his ruggedly handsome glory. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his bare chest. He must have somehow got undressed when she wasn’t paying attention, too caught up in the myriad of sensations he’d already coaxed from her body.

If this was what kinky sex did, then Nikita couldn’t understand why more people didn’t embrace this lifestyle. Never in her life had she been this turned on. Raoul repeated the process to her other arm until she was tied and couldn’t move.

“What’s your safe word, squirt?”

“Red, but I don’t need it. Please don’t stop.”

“Good girl.”

The approval in his voice washed over her senses, and Nikita was close to tears, so overwhelmed was she by the intensity of the moment.

With her breasts squashed into the bed, her nipples chafed against the cover, and she bucked when he slid his hands under her and pinched each nipple in turn. With his naked chest pressed against her back, exerting pressure on the left-over soreness there, Nikita felt owned, and used, and she reveled in that feeling, as he rolled each hard nub between his fingertips and pulled. Darts of arousal shot through her body to her clit, and she couldn’t help her breathless moan.

“Oh, that feels so good.”

He kissed her shoulder and withdrew again. Tiny stings to her back made her gasp. Each sting was soothed by soft lips.

“Turn your head and look at us in the mirror. I want you to see me fuck you. I want you to see my cock plundering your sweet cunt, so that you’ll know who owns you.”

Instead of appalling her, those words excited her further, and she dutifully turned to look. Even though her vision was hazy she could see him towering over her, his body so big and dark compared to her, and every fiber of her being tensed when she caught the first glimpse of his cock. Thick and long, it rose from its thatch of dark hair, his heavy balls swinging underneath as he moved. Raoul took himself in hand and stroked his dick from head to root with slow measured moves that had her mewling anew.

“Beg me for my cock, girl. Tell me you want it. Tell me you’re mine.”

“Yes, anything, please. I need you …. I need your cock … Sir.”

The tagged on address made him growl, and Nikita closed her eyes when he placed several cushions under her hips until her ass was elevated.

“So wet, so beautiful. Who owns this pussy, squirt?”

“You do, Sir.”

“Damn fucking right, I do.”

He slid the thick head of his erection through her pussy lips, and Nikita held her breath as his heat branded her. He repeated that process over and over until Nikita wanted to scream and her nerve endings were strung so tight, she could barely breathe. She yanked on her restraints, but it was useless. When he finally breached her hole it was with agonizing slowness that awakened every one of her vaginal nerves, and she grit her teeth at the sensation of being filled and stretched to capacity.


Author Bio:

Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris… at least that’s what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.

There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.

She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

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