Behind the Iron Cross by Nicole Cameron

BEHIND THE IRON CROSS by NICOLA CAMERON

Hello, and thanks so much for having me on today! While Behind the Iron Cross is my tenth
romance novel to be published, it was actually the first one I ever wrote. I started it in 2012,
picking at it in fits and starts while working on my other books, and finally finished it in 2018.
In hindsight this is a good thing because I needed some serious novel writing chops, far more than
I had in 2012, to pull this story off properly. The experience I’ve gained in the last six years is
what made this book possible, and I’m very happy that it’s now available to readers.

Also, it means that my editor will stop nagging me to finish it. (Love you, Theresa!)

In the hedonistic wonderland of Cabaret-era Berlin…

                                     …where money can buy you anything you desire…
                                     …and love comes with a pink rose and a practiced smile…

The year is 1923, the Great War is over, and Berlin has become the manic playground of Europe’s elite. Against a glittering background of nightclubs and hot jazz, a sensual American heiress, a wounded playboy, and a desperate German army officer forge a decadent pact of pleasure. But their nights of uninhibited passion soon lead to a forbidden emotional connection, one that will threaten their future … and their lives.

Excerpt available here.

• Historical Romance, Erotic Romance, MMF
• Word Count: 105,000
• Heat Level 4
• Published By: Belaurient Press

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Where to Buy

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iTunes | Kobo | Smashwords

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Excerpt

Katherine Tracy took a deep drag of her cigarette, letting the smoke trickle out slowly

through her nostrils. It had been a long day of business meetings with a German manufacturing

company eager to repair its war-damaged finances by partnering with her Uncle William’s

company, Tracy Electric. She’d done her job as the company’s duly designated

representative, and now she wanted some entertainment.

Although she was starting to doubt they’d find it at the Cupid Club. “Darling, I’m bored,” she

said to the handsome man sitting at her side. “I thought we were going somewhere amusing.”

Sam Harrison gave her a lazy smile. “We’ve only been here for a few minutes, sweetheart.

Give the talent a chance to circulate.”

She glanced around the room, wondering if he was right. The club was dark and smoky, the

dim light hiding the cherub-heavy decor and prompting the customers to focus on the stage

where a redheaded singer in a long silver gown was crooning, “Just a Girl That Men Forget.”

The fact that the singer was a husky contralto and her Adam’s apple could be seen under

the diamanté choker she wore was part of the club’s louche charm, Kat assumed.

It was a reminder that Berlin was a world away from Bridgeport, Connecticut, in more ways

than one. The aftermath of the Great War had wreaked economic havoc on Europe, and a

conquered Germany was the hardest hit of the countries on the losing side. With the

abdication of Kaiser Wilhelm II and an economy in ruins due to catastrophic war reparations,

Germany had struggled to put together its first democratically elected government, the

Weimar Republic, under the leadership of Friedrich Ebert.

By 1922, the new parliament had their hands full trying to rein in a galloping hyperinflation,

all while dealing with political and military uprisings throughout the country. Staid Prussian

social mores were abandoned as quaint holdovers of a bygone age, and the urban centers

of the country developed a more freewheeling mindset. Berlin in particular had given up any

attempts at censorship under the Republic. It was the cuckoo’s egg in the nest of the German

Reich, and musicians, artists, and writers flocked there, eager to enjoy this mad new freedom.

They weren’t alone; philosophers and scientists also rushed to study the fascinating social

experiment that was Berlin.

That was the bright aspect of the city. On its darker side, Berlin had become a hunting ground

for those with money and a taste for more sordid pleasures. Here, avid partiers could listen to

the hottest jazz, indulge in their drug of choice, and have any kind of sex they craved.

Especially if it was the kind of sex that was illegal at home. As Kat finished her champagne,

a handsome young waiter dressed in a brief drape of white fabric and nothing else appeared

at the table. Plucking the waiting bottle from its stand, he poured more of the sparkling wine

into her glass, leaning over to show off a muscled back and a firm, rounded ass. From the

corner of her eye, she noticed Sam’s admiration of the fit male flesh on display.

The waiter also noticed this and made sure to brush against Sam’s arm as he sashayed away

from the table. Amused, she saluted her fiancé with her glass. “He’s certainly pretty.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “And probably carrying every social disease known to mankind.

Besides, I know the type. He’d run screaming the moment you pulled out the ropes.”

“Not if I gagged him first.”