 In the whimsical realm of the North Pole, where enchantment fills the frosty air, a tale of love, mischief, and holiday magic unfolds. Can a sweet female elf suddenly become a stalker? You bet she can! Patty Peppermint is a spirited and talented elf, her pointed ears and diminutive stature belying a vibrant personality. However, after two hundred years she’s tired of waiting for Mr. Right, and settling for Mr. Right Now. In fact, she’s thinking of leaving The North Pole altogether until Wyatt Wonderland appears like an early Christmas gift. The sexy Reindeer Wrangler kindles a fire that could burn forever, but he’s holding out on her. Getting him into her bed just became her new mission. Wyatt, a charismatic cowboy from Tennessee has taken the position of Manager of the Reindeer Barns. Half Elven and half human, he is drawn to Patty’s charms, but Wyatt has his own agenda for his time in The North Pole, and it doesn’t include engaging in what might be an unsustainable relationship with the tempting, pink haired elf. Unfortunately, she’s now stalking him and making all kinds of crazy plans. Taking her over his knee may be his only option to get her under control. The idyllic hamlet, nestled amidst the snowy landscape, becomes the stage for their deepening relationship as whispers of danger circulate among the Elven community. Strange occurrences begin to unfold, challenging Patty and Wyatt to unravel a mystery that could ruin Christmas forever. With a delightfully spicy blend of suspense, fantasy, romance, and holiday cheer, this enchanting tale weaves a tapestry of love, laughter, and the enduring magic of the North Pole, where dreams come alive and happily-ever-afters hang in the balance. Don't miss Elven Magic, the third book in the Love Stories from the North Pole Series.
Excerpt:
“Reindeer are temperamental creatures at times. They have good moods and bad, can be gentle and feisty, and frequently need a firm hand, much like a little female elf I know,” he replied as he helped her clean up. “Is that so?” she asked stiffly as she began to put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. To do so she realized she was bending over and quickly turned her head to look at him. At that exact moment he was staring at her bottom with a strange gleam in his eye. Quickly she straightened up and shoved the door closed. “I’ll just put these in the sink and take care of them later.” “That’s your choice,” he replied softly, “but it won’t help you now.” “I don’t know what you mean?” she gasped out as he reached out and took her hand. Pulling her to the great room, he stopped and placed his big hands on her shoulders, holding her in place. “Look around,” he ordered. “Take a good long look, Lil’ Bit and tell me what you see.” Patty ran her hands down her skirt, smoothing it and trying to dry her perspiring hands. Her eyes traveled the room that appeared somewhat dark and gloomy from this angle. All of the furniture was heavy, oversized, the leather such a deep brown that it nearly appeared black with only the fire’s glow. Now that she looked closely, she realized Merry had even changed the drapes. Instead of the soft, frilly Pricillas that had covered the windows letting in the moonlight, there was now room darkening drapes that blocked the stars. When she looked at the huge longhorns hanging over the fireplace, she winced. “Why would you do this?” he asked. “Why would you turn such a bright, cheerful, welcoming home into this depressing monstrosity?” he asked, turning her to face him, his hand sweeping the room. “I don’t know,” she whispered avoiding his eyes. “I reckon you do know, little elf. I reckon we both do,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair and walking away from her. Taking a seat on the sofa he patted the space beside him. “Come here.” When she hesitated, his voice deepened as he repeated himself. “I said come here, Lil’ Bit and I meant it,” he warned. Slowly she moved closer until she finally sat down, sinking so far into the sofa that she let out a panicked squeal, her arms flailing. Swiftly Wyatt plucked her up and positioned her sideways on his lap, one strong arm holding her in place when she fidgeted, her hands twisting. “Now, because I’m basically a patient man, I’m going to give you one opportunity to try and explain all this to me. I doubt it will change the way this evening ends, but feel free to dig into your little bag of Elven tricks and give it your best shot. I’ll wait.” Patty’s mind was racing. What did he mean it wouldn’t change the way the evening ended? Was he going to stop seeing her? Was he going to leave angry and end the friend‐ ship she so wanted to coax into so very much more? Damn, what could she say? How could she explain such a dramatic shift? Verbally stumbling she hesitatingly began. “Well, I was just ready for a change that’s all,” she insisted. “This place was far too girly…” “Nope,” he interrupted. “Despite your preference for jeans and sneakers, you’re definitely girly, and in all the right places too. Try again,” he suggested, his hand rubbing her stiff back and toying with her hair. “No, I’m not,” she stated. “Ask anyone! They’ll all tell you that I’m not at all fussy, and I like to keep things simple and organized.” “And you call this simple?” he asked with a laugh. “You think having furniture you can’t even sit on without needing a strong hand to pull you out of is simple?” “Well, no, but I didn’t sit on it at the shop, so I had no way of knowing.” “Why would you buy something without trying it out?” he pressed. “I guess I just liked the looks of it, and it seemed so big and comfortable. I thought it might suit someone who is used to…” “Ah, now we’re coming to the truth of it, are we?” “Well not everyone is as small as me. Perhaps one day I will find a mate who would appreciate such a room,” she snapped. “As I said more than once, I’m not a girly sort of female!” “Pink is definitely a girl’s color, well maybe not all females, but it suits you well,” he said as he slid his hand into her hair and cupped the back of her scalp. “Thank you, I think,” she breathed when he pulled her head to his chest. “Why don’t I tell you why you really did all this?” he suggested softly, his mouth near her ear. “Okay,” she whispered, melting against him and closing her eyes. “After you learned I was not going to complicate our relationship with a passionate physical romance, you panicked, even though I explained my reasons and they had nothing to do with how I felt about you. “It was natural that you would discuss our situation with Merry, after all, she is your best friend, but you took it too far. It seems the two of you decided that if you could make your home more appealing to the cowboy from Tennessee, he might spend more time here, allowing you to tempt him into changing his mind. “Of course, none of that was necessary. You were already plaguing my every thought, disrupting my sleep with dreams of teasing and tormenting you,” he admitted with a groan. “It seems I wanted to do to you what you’ve been mentally doing to me; and yes, I know that’s a little insane, but wanting you has done that to me.” “It has?” she asked weakly. “Yes. Unlike you, I don’t make up a lot of crap to explain my actions. I tell it like it is and I have from the start.” “That’s true,” she admitted. “You did tell me why you didn’t want a sexual relationship.” “It wasn’t a matter of not wanting you, Lil’ Bit. I wanted you badly, so much that I needed to stay away from you for just that reason. But you would not leave me alone. Tell me, have you used magic to mesmerize me?” “No, Wyatt, I swear,” she protested, pushing away from him and looking directly into his eyes. “No magic,” she continued, biting her lip. “But you considered it,” he pressed. Patty nodded, feeling her face heat up. “I ache for you,” she told him softly, her hand flying to her tummy. “I don’t exactly know why, but it’s been like this from the moment I met you. I feel like a part of me is missing and only you can fix it, make me whole again,” she admitted as a tear trailed down her cheek. “When you said there was almost no chance for us to be together, I did panic. I felt like my life was over, wasted and I would never be happy and carefree again.” “We’ve only known each other a short time,” he pointed out as he wiped her tears away with his big thumb. “Don’t you think it’s unusual for two people to feel so connected to each other so quickly?” “My mind says yes, but my heart says no. Maybe it was like this with your parents, Wyatt. Maybe they knew from the moment they met that they were supposed to be together forever,” she offered as she sank back against his chest, her arms going around his neck. “And look how that worked out,” he answered with a touch of bitterness. “I’ll never know if my mother used magic to bewitch him. I’ll never know if he truly loved her, or she him.” “She had to love him, honestly and forever loved him or she never would have broken like she did after his death. Only love could make a female give up everything she’s ever known, leave her family and home to be with him.” “Love or stubbornness,” he countered. “Maybe she was just too damn stubborn to realize she’d made a mistake, too angry at my grandparents for not supporting her when they were right all along!” “Wyatt, no,” Patty cried, cupping his cheek. “I can’t believe that. I won’t believe that!” She felt the tension in his body and sensed his resolve reawakening. Soon he would set her away from him and leave, maybe never coming back. It was enough to make her howl, but that’s not exactly what happened. Wyatt did move her off his lap, only to slide over on the sofa and then pull her across his knees. When he flipped up her skirt, she knew what was happening, but she had to ask anyway. Turning her head she looked at him over her shoulder. “Wyatt, what are you doing?” she asked weakly. “I’m doing what a man does when his woman steps over the line,” he stated. I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into Elven Magic. Thanks for stopping by, and I have a fabulous holiday season. You can find me just about anywhere using this link. linktr.ee/StevieMac
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Well, hello there. It's been quite a while since I update this site, and I will admit the blame falls squarely on my shoulders. All I have to say in my defense is that I got sick in early November 2023 and it lasted well into April 2024. Thankfully, I am feeling much better now although my life, as always, is in a constant state of upheaval. I am writing new stories and getting ready to do a big promotion on The Marriage Market Series novels! Amelia will be on sale for $.99, and Grace will be reduced to $2.99 for a limited time starting July 15, 2024. If you missed this series, you might want to check it out. I also think I'm going to try my hand at writing a Instalove series. The idea of short stories is very appealing when you're as pressed for time and privacy as I am. Post in the comments and let me know what you think.
I hope everyone has a great summer! As always, you can find me just about anywhere using Linktree Hugs, Stevie Make-overs are necessary, especially for my badly neglected website. It will take me a while to get through all the pages, but it's coming, with a brand new look and feel. I've also updated the cover for my holiday novella, Merry & Bright! It's a Christmas Fantasy Romance, in case you missed it, and the new series title is: Love Stories from the North Pole. A sequel is on it's way for the holiday season as well. Merry & Bright, Book Two is up for pre-order and it picks up right where the first novel left off. The cover for book two will be revealed on 11/14/23 and available, with a release date of 11/3/2023. I hope you enjoy these cheery holiday stories. It was great fun writing them, and it allowed me to be a little bit cheesy, in a good way. Each year I plan to bring you a funny novel or novella featuring Love Stories from the North Pole. It lifts my spirits to write them, and I hope it will lift yours as well.  Here’s an interesting tidbit of information: Think the North Pole is all about children? Reindeer Turds! Santa’s Workshop is bringing pleasure to children of all ages, if you get my drift. Things are happening there, big things, and sexy things. Elf things, human things, human and elf things! It’s crazy. Merry Mistletoe, an elfin female is in the process of a divorcing her cheating husband and it shows in her work. Sad and angry faces are appearing on her dolls when Bartlett Bright joins the management staff at SW/NP Inc. and he cannot allow the talented artist to continue letting her emotions dictate her work. Mr. Bright tries everything to bring Merry around to his way of thinking. Children will be disappointed. Santa will be frustrated and Bartlett’s job could be on the line. As he supervises her closely, he begins to see that his attentions are not all about her work. It appears the pretty little elf has wormed her way into his heart. She’s stubborn, opinionated and the perfect match for his dominant personality. He’s determined to make her see it, set on winning her heart and willing to spank some sense into her.  Merry & Bright, Book 2 Love Stories from the North Pole. For one magical night, Merry and Bright had everything they’d hungered for. Until the sun rose… My goodness! Things are finally starting to settle down at the North Pole. All the presents have been delivered and the Elvin community is looking forward to a well-earned vacation in January. Bartlett Bright, the new supervisor at SW/NP has just survived his first Christmas, with a little help from his new friends, and he’s ecstatic. He is basking in the loving arms of his favorite elf, Merry Mistletoe. How much better can life get? Apparently, their romance is a recipe for disaster and he’s been asking the wrong questions! In reality, things can get worse, much worse. Merry knows she foolishly rushed into something. What possessed her to fall under the charm of a human? She’s already had one disastrous marriage; in fact, she’s still waiting for Santa to sign her divorce papers! Passion! That’s what did it! She’s been so lonely that she was prime pickings for a sexy human whispering wicked little things in her ear and inflaming her desires. She had to stop it now, no matter how badly it hurt. Her heart must be protected at all costs, for it could never survive another break, maybe more shattering than the first. Coming Soon!  My goodness, how time does fly. It seems like yesterday that I dug my first novel out of the attic, where it had sat for twenty years, and decided to do something with it. After that, it was one book after another. When I first stated writing series my publisher told me, "Series don't sell well. Make sure you don't write more than three books at the most." I didn't listen, of course. How could I when The O'Malleys were all clamoring for their stories to be told? After that came Sugar Babies, Inc. and the delightful Susan to write about. By then I was hooked on series. It's actually pretty rare for me to write a single novel, but I have. Still, I prefer a plethora of characters, which of course leads to series like, Sassy Girls, The Marriage Market, Come Sundown, and the ones I've written as Markie Morelli, Cheri's New Rules, and Finn's Plan. Threads of Time, my newest series has been a long time coming. I'd given the first book to a different publisher and they titled it 'Callie Mae and the Marine', which I hated. I didn't like the cover either, and the book did not do well. I think there were several reasons for this which I won't go in to, but I will admit I was very disheartened. I thought Morgan's story was one of my best works, yet it had mediocre sales. At that point I decided to put a hold on the series until the rights from the first book reverted to me, which they did in 2022. Over the course of several months I revised book one, extended it, and changed the ending. It got a great cover from the remarkable Dar Albert, and a new title more fitting for a Time Travel series. After that, it was full steam ahead. Currently, I'm working on the third book, Woven Threads, which will be released this spring. I hope readers will give this series the chance to make them smile, and fall in love! Tangled Threads Morgan Whittaker is a shadow of the man he once was. Plagued by personal tragedy, his marriage in shambles, and wounded while serving his last tour of duty he only wants to be left alone. Despite knowing their marriage is over, Cara Whittaker finds it painful and annoying to see what her husband has become. The Quantum physicist offers him a once in a lifetime chance...to travel back in time. What he finds there is more than he ever dreamed. He’s been warned not to tamper with the fragile fabric of the future, but danger is coming. Can he stop it and change his destiny or will he run out of time? Will he once again follow the rules or will he throw caution to the wind and step up to be the man he’s meant to be? Excerpt: “Morgan? Morgan Whittaker is that you?” the man asked, pushing the brim of his hat back and squinting in the bright sunlight. “As I live and breathe,” he continued, jumping down from his wagon and striding directly to the tall man who was once his best friend. “Where in hell’s creation have you been all these years? We all thought you were dead, killed in the Indian wars,” he continued, reaching out to shake Morgan’s hand before pulling him into a man hug and pounding his back. “And what in tarnation are you on foot for? Get throwed?” “Um, yeah,” Morgan replied. Apparently this man knew him, although how that could be possible he didn’t know. Cara told him he was taking a chance going to rural Kansas where his ancestors had settled back in the 1800’s. It appeared she was right, as he obviously looked enough like his predecessor to be mistaken for him. “Well, come on,” the man said, heading toward the wagon. “Never thought I’d live to see the day you got pitched off your own nag,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You want I should try and find your horse? I guess that fightin’ took more out of you than is right.” “I guess so,” Morgan agreed, climbing up on the seat and looking around at the countryside. “No, he was an ornery old cuss anyway, so good riddance to him.” Acres and acres of wheat, as far as the eye could see, waved gently in the breeze. He hoped the man would continue to carry the conversation because frankly, he was almost speechless. Weeks of watching old episodes of ‘Gunsmoke’ would only take him so far. “I’ll take you out to the homestead,” the blond haired man beside him said, giving the reins a snap that set the horses in motion, “but I better stop at the house on our way or Missy will never forgive me. That little sister of yours is sweet as a honeycomb until she gets a bee in her bonnet, then watch out. We been married nigh on three years now and I’ve only had to take a hand to her a few times, but let me tell you that woman can hold a grudge like no female I ever met. Best not to rile her up if I can help it,” he said, grinning. “You hit my sister?” Morgan asked, feeling strangely angry despite the fact that he had no idea who ‘Missy’ was. “Hell no! You know me better than that, Morg; I just tan her hide when she gets out of hand. Nothin’ you wouldn’t a done yourself if you’d been around. If anyone knows what kind of trouble that gal can get into, it oughta be you.” Morgan nodded and digested this information. So, he had a sister. Well, the other Morgan Whittaker did, and Lord knew where he was. Maybe he was dead. This man was married to Missy, his sister, and apparently it was permissible to spank your wife. A tiny smile tilted the corner of his mouth. Broken Threads Mead Whittaker wasn’t much more than a boy when he fought at the Battel of Mine Creek, but it damn near cost him his life. The last thing he needed was another injury to the same damn leg, yet that’s exactly what he got at The Duchess Saloon one dark night in October 1880. When Morgan approached him with a possible solution, Mead thought his brother was crazy. However, knowing he might never walk again convinced him. He would trust Morgan and risk traveling to the future for advanced medical treatment. What he hadn’t counted on was his actions putting those he’d come to care for at even more risk. Things were unraveling in the past, actions that seemed to be unleashing devastating consequences in the present, and Mead wasn’t there to prevent them. The threads of time are fraying; some are breaking. Can Mead and Cara work together to mend the fabric of their lives in time? Excerpt: Cara spent the rest of the day with her current husband. Surprisingly, he insisted on attending services at the same church where their marriage took place. Her mind was once again flooded with new recollections as she greeted strangers and then moments later realized she did, in fact, know them. It was like putting together an elaborate puzzle, trying to determine which pieces were parts of her new life and which were from her past. As a scientist, she knew the human brain had an unlimited capacity for knowledge, yet the more firmly she became ingrained in her new life, the more distant her old life seemed. She couldn’t help but wonder if at some point her first marriage and the ensuing effects would totally fade from her conscious mind. They cooked dinner together, working side by side in their custom kitchen and ate at the granite topped island. Micah poured her a glass of white wine and smiled when she drained the glass almost immediately. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right, darling?” “Yes, of course,” Cara replied as she handed him her glass for a refill. “Why?” His questioning, raised-eyebrow stare made his feelings known. “You’ve been acting oddly since I found you in your office as white as a sheet yesterday. Now you appear flushed. Is there anything you need to talk to me about?” “Umm no, everything’s fine, Witt,” she replied, taking a bite of her Chicken Alfredo. Oh, God, Oh God, a nickname! It just fell out of her mouth like a gift. She called him Witt, obviously short for Whittaker, and sometimes she called him ‘Doc’. Why was it taking her so long to remember some things and not others? She’d been waiting for some sign, some comment that would let her know he was aware of the situation, but so far nothing. Surely they had discussed it. She worked with him, and apparently had for some time. He must know about the project, and if not, why? How was she supposed to explain it to him? Well, you see, until last week you didn’t even exist. I had this husband, oh yeah funny thing about that, his name is Morgan and he’s probably your great-great-great-great grandfather, or maybe an uncle…well he’s definitely related to you in some way. You see I sent him back in time and he fucked up, no fucked up wouldn’t work. She believed she’d been spanked once before for using that kind of language. Okay, okay, regroup. I sent him back in time and he met this girl, a saloon keeper named Callie Mae Walker who was supposed to die in this gunfight, only she didn’t, because Morgan did something to change things, and after he promised me he wouldn’t fuck…damn…mess with the future. I don’t really know what exactly, but they had children and you’re a descendant of one of those children…probably. I never really loved him, but the sex was great at first. No wait. Scratch that. I married him because his younger brother died and his parents were grieving so deeply. Morgan, my first husband, that is, enlisted and was going overseas and I was continuing my education, so I figured why not? What could it hurt, right? His parents were expecting grandchildren, which of course I was never going to provide, but it put a Band-Aid on the whole thing, sort of. “Oh Lord,” Cara said out loud, pushing her plate away and draining her second glass of wine. “All right,” Micah said, getting up from his stool. Taking the glass away from her, he lifted her down. “I don’t know what’s come over you young lady, but I feel we need to have a serious talk. Why did you go to the office so early this morning? What? You didn’t think I would notice my wife’s absence?” he asked with a derisive snort. “What happened while you were there that’s affected you this way?” he asked, tipping her chin up and forcing her to make eye contact. Crap he’s hot, she thought. Wanting to reach out and cup his lovely organ in her hands, she forced herself to behave. What the fuck was she supposed to say anyway? I got a letter this morning and my husband is coming back on Tuesday. Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you and I’m sure you’ll be great friends. “Shit,” she snapped, twisting out of his arms and giving his chest a shove with her small hand. “I don’t want to talk right now. I want to drink,” she continued, snatching up the wine bottle as she pivoted. “I’m going to the den and I don’t want to be disturbed,” she tossed over her shoulder, her bare feet slapping against the tile. Once Cara passed into the dining room she paused, holding her breath. Hearing the garage door open and close, she let out a sigh of relief and tipped the bottle to her mouth. She’d have to tell him, of course, and she just earned a hell of a spanking, but she also bought herself some time. Witt would never discipline her when he was genuinely angry. Moving on to the den, she sat at the huge mahogany desk and began to write on a legal pad. It was important to write down every detail of her life with Morgan, just in case her memories began to fade. It would also give her some talking points when she explained to her current husband what transpired. All this would take place after he’d punished her for her rudeness, disrespect, and nasty mouth. He would send her to the corner until she stopped blubbering, comfort her when he determined she was duly repentant, and then insist on the truth. Witt would get his way, he nearly always did, but it was nice being cared for, and come Tuesday morning he would be right beside her, offering support and guidance. Taking a huge gulp from the bottle, Cara began to write. She detailed each item of importance, stopping now and then to mull over the past. By the time she was done, the empty wine bottle was on its side. Leaning back in the big leather chair, she rested her feet on the corner of the desk and waited. I hope you've enjoyed these glimpses into my Threads of Time series. Books one and two are available now at your favorite retailers. Here are the links: Tangled Threads Broken Threads As always, you can find me anywhere by using linktr.ee/StevieMac I hope you'll consider following me on Amazon, Goodreads, and Book-bub. Have a great day and thanks for stopping by. Hugs, Stevie  Damn he looked good, all muscled and a little sweaty. She could almost taste him, the slightly salty texture of his skin. Her knees trembled as his tongue slipped out of his mouth to lick away a drop of mayonnaise. Ah hell, this was not going to work. She was not going to be able to spend every night working on the house, watching him, listening to his deep voice and remain unmoved. Even arguing with her, he was sexy as hell. Samantha Whitney had life by the ass; great friends, a great job, and for the first time a place to really settle and call home. Maybe it was a beaten up bungalow she spent every last dime on at auction but it was hers, free and clear. At least until the code inspector came knocking at the door with a list a mile long and a ninety day deadline. With little more than pocket change, Samantha was screwed. She had no choice but to seek some volunteer service. Sergeant Jared Steel was dazed the first time he saw Samantha. As prickly as she was gorgeous, she left him wanting more. Though her tainted view of men in uniform led the former Marine turned police officer to keep his mind focused on the work at hand. However, as Samantha’s impulsive and risky decisions make more work for Jared, he starts to believe that she not only needs a handy man, but a man handy enough to put a stop to her irresponsible behavior. Here's a snippet: He had all the right equipment in all the right places, was incredibly attractive, had a sense of humor and his smile was devastatingly appealing, but it wasn’t his smile that concerned her. It was his frowns, which would eventually lead to scolding. From there things would go downhill each and every time she didn’t do precisely what he said. She’d seen guys like him a hundred times, even fallen hard for a few, and it always turned out badly. Usually, she could spot them a mile away. Military men had a certain bearing about them. It was in the way they walked, that no nonsense, stick up their ass stride that gave them away. They could be fun in the beginning, but sooner or later a girl would do something they didn’t approve of and the next thing she knew she’d be listening to a clip-toned lecture, at best. At worst he’d be advancing on her with a gleam in his eyes that clearly suggested she’d better straighten up and fly right. Sam didn’t particularly enjoy flying right. She was not a stealth jet. She saw herself as more of a butterfly, going where she pleased and doing what she wanted. For years she’d withstood the rigid control of her Daddy. There was only one way to do things as far as he was concerned, his way, which was nearly always the military way. How her mother endured it year after year Sam would never understand, yet her mother seemed happy. Satisfied in some way her daughter could not fathom. “What’s up, buttercup?” Jared asked as he walked in the door. “Did you have a good day at work?” “It was okay,” she replied noncommittally. Crap he even smelled good. She moved further away. “Something wrong?” he asked, setting down his toolbox. “No, not really,” she began. “I just…” “Just what?” “Why did you kiss me last night?” she finally demanded, stiffening her backbone. “I don’t know. I guess I just felt like it,” he replied calmly as he got out the tools he would need. “Do you do everything you ‘just feel like’?” she asked. Jared laughed and straightened up. “Of course not, I’m a cop, remember?” “I remember.” “I have no desire lose my job or go to jail, or I would have blistered your ass for the destruction you created in that room.” “You’re joking, right?” she asked taking a step back. “Sure, I’m joking,” he answered, but his eyes said differently. Sam took another step back and swallowed the lump in her throat. He wasn’t kidding. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name, and he was just enough of a man to do it too. Crap, what a shame when most of the time she really liked him. Oh well, he’d be out of her life soon enough. Once her house passed inspection she would have little reason to contact Sergeant Jared Steel.: Amazon Review: 5.0 out of 5 stars Perfection! Reviewed in the United States on January 20, 2022 Her Handyman by Stevie MacFarlane was a very enjoyable read. Sam definitely had her share of issues, and no way did she want a relationship with the overly protective, caring and just a little bit bossy cop, Jared. The two tangled throughout the book. When I actually believed the author was giving us just a little steamy read oh boy did she turn up the heat! Stevie MacFarlane brought it! I'm still blushing. Kudos! Buy Links: Amazon Universal Book Link Thanks for stopping by. Stevie  Here’s an interesting tidbit of information:
Think the North Pole is all about children? Reindeer Turds! Santa’s Workshop is bringing pleasure to children of all ages, if you get my drift. Things are happening there, big things, and sexy things. Elf things, human things, human and elf things! It’s crazy. Merry Mistletoe, an elfin female is in the process of a divorcing her cheating husband and it shows in her work. Sad and angry faces are appearing on her dolls when Bartlett Bright joins the management staff at SW/NP Inc. and he cannot allow the talented artist to continue letting her emotions dictate her work. Mr. Bright tries everything to bring Merry around to his way of thinking. Children will be disappointed. Santa will be frustrated and Bartlett’s job could be on the line. As he supervises her closely, he begins to see that his attentions are not all about her work. It appears the pretty little elf has wormed her way into his heart. She’s stubborn, opinionated and the perfect match for his dominant personality. He’s determined to make her see it, set on winning her heart and willing to spank some sense into her. Actually, he’s looking forward to it! If you're looking for a fun Christmas novella, this might be the book for you. There will be eye-rolling, just so you know, but hey, if you can't have fun with a fantasy book, when can you? Disclaimer: I can also be a bit corny. Still, it was fun to write a story where anything can and does happen. The release date is 11/25/2021, which is Thanksgiving Day here in the US. This was done on purpose as I'm always a little down after all the company leaves and looking for a good book or movie to curl up with. So here's your chance. Start this one after dinner and be finished by bedtime! Now the pre-order on Amazon says it's about 50 pages, which is not correct. It's actually longer as I only uploaded a portion of the book to get the pre-order started. Also, I won't be putting it up on other vendor sites until after it goes live on Amazon, so probably a day or two after the holiday, but still in plenty of time to lift your spirits and tickle your funny bone for Christmas. Excerpt: Bartlett Bright glanced up at the security camera and sighed. He’d been watching this elf closely for weeks and he couldn’t say he was impressed. Mrs. Mistletoe was short with the other employees, both elves and human. Her work of late, while beyond reproach as far as her skills, did not meet the standards specified by his boss. A lovely doll face was one thing, a doll with tear-filled eyes was not exactly the kind of present Santa wanted to deliver to a little girl. Bartlett also noticed Mrs. Mistletoe did not join in any of the typical seasonal festivities. As the holiday approached most elves gathered their Christmas spirit and became more animated, productive and joyful. Not Mrs. Mistletoe. The beautiful little woman withdrew deeper into her sorrows and according to the rampant gossip it was understandable, but not acceptable. He would have to do something about her attitude. Rising from his desk he strode across the room and opened the door. “Mrs. Mistletoe, I’m glad you could make the time to meet with me.” “It was hardly a request,” she replied as she sailed past him into the office. “True.” “And please don’t call me Mrs., it’s Ms. Mistletoe,” she said a bit sharply as she spun to face him when he closed the door. “I’m sorry. I was given to understand you’d been married.” “I was. At one time I was known as Mrs. Breadhouse, but I’ve returned to my maiden name after Bernard, my slug of a husband, left me for Ginger,” she said with a slightly bitter laugh followed by a snort. “Word is they have a bun in the over, or perhaps I should say a cookie, but you might have missed some of that drama. Still, when he marries her she’ll be Mrs. Breadhouse, or Ginger Breadhouse to be specific. If that isn’t ridiculously trite, I don’t know what is.” “I’m not one to listen to whispered innuendos,” he stated firmly, “and you shouldn’t either.” “Pardon me, but it’s hard to ignore.” “I’m sure it is, nevertheless, that’s not what I called you here to talk about today. Please have a seat,” he said indicating a chair in front of his desk that had two steps in front of it. Carefully Merry climbed the stairs and sat, crossing her legs, her foot popping up and down in obvious agitation. “Please go on, Mr. Bright,” she suggested briskly. “I do have work to do.” “That’s precisely why I asked you to come in. I’m wondering, actually everyone is wondering, why your dolls are painted so unhappily this year. I’ve looked at your earlier work and they are quite lovely. You’re a skilled artist, Ms. Mistletoe.” “Thank you.” “So what’s going on? You have to realize we can’t use those sad faced dolls.” “Why not?” “I think that should be obvious. Christmas is a happy time of year for children. I doubt your work this year will inspire anything but sadness.” “Why shouldn’t children know that life is not all hearts and flowers? Why can’t little girls be shown that tears and sadness are all part of growing up?” she demanded. “I’m sure most of them know that Ms. Mistletoe. Children don’t live in a bubble,” he pointed out calmly. “Our job, your job, is to give them some joy. Some children are already well aware of the harsh realities of life. Let’s not make it worse.” “I understand your point, but I don’t agree,” she stated firmly, narrowing her eyes. “You don’t have too. All you have to do is follow my instructions and paint some smiling dolls,” he shot back. “And if I don’t want to?” she asked quietly. “Then you will be moved to another department, one where your negative attitude won’t reflect on what we do here. We have a mission and I’m here to make sure we stick to it.” “I see.” “I’m glad that you do,” he replied, eyeing her sharply. “That will be all, Ms. Mistletoe. You may go, but I’ll be watching you. I suggest you take my words to heart.” Merry clamped her lips together. She’d been dismissed. Quickly she slipped to the floor her heels tapping out her anger as she made her way to the door. “And lose those shoes, Ms. Mistletoe. You know they are not allowed and neither is three pair of earrings. They present a hazard.” Merry didn’t answer; she simply slipped through the door to his office and slammed it behind her a little harder that was necessary. She’d made up her mind about her new supervisor. Bartlett Bright was an opinionated jerk and she was going to take him down. Bartlett leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. She was pretty, that much of what he’d heard about her was true. At nearly five feet she was tall for an elf but her curves were in all the right places. And that hair was amazing. It had a life of its own, long strands that caught the light every time she moved and he could not decide if it was silver or gold. She was also a gifted artist, but her attitude left a lot to be desired. So some man, wait, elf, had done her wrong. It happened. He’d been dumped more than once in his life and survived. So would she. Letting it affect her work was a huge mistake, especially when what she did was so incredibly important. He would not sit back and let her ruin Christmas or her future. A female elf could go places. Santa was not only open to females moving up in the organization, he encouraged it. Ms. Mistletoe had better come to her senses or she’d find herself stuck wrapping packages. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. No one with her talent should be shuffled off to stuffing red sacks. He intended to see that didn’t happen to this angry little elf one way or another. Buy Link: Amazon Happy Holidays Everyone!  At the advanced age of 19 Bedelia Longmore had resigned herself to becoming the town spinster. Physically, she was not particularly impressive to the male population of Centerville, as her mother so frequently pointed out. Her light-brown hair was extremely wild and curly, and Biddy had given up on taming it. As a rule, her spectacles rested on the tip of her nose, and she was frequently in a hurry. She might start her day out neat as a pin, but by mid afternoon she often appeared frazzled, with her hat perched slightly cock-eyed on her head.
Fortunately, this did not bother Biddy. She had many friends and was well liked by nearly everyone in town. She was observant, intelligent and if one wanted to know what was really going on in Centerville, all one had to do was seek out Bedelia Longmore and ask her. Bedelia began to consider a career. Being an old maid was one thing. Being an old maid with nothing to do other than sit around and listen to her mother lament that fact was untenable! While she might never be a wife and mother, she was certainly capable of making her mark on the world, and she quickly determined she would be the first woman publisher of Centerville’s very own newspaper. She began to plan accordingly. Successful reporter Thornton James arrived from Topeka with a plan. He too was looking for a place to begin his publishing career and had concluded Centerville might be perfect. A chance meeting with Bedelia Longmore was an unexpected stroke of luck. Thorn was immediately taken with the friendly young woman. Biddy was what he considered, pretty enough, but her real appeal sprang from her quick, sharp mind and her witty conversation. She knew everyone, their habits, their preferences and clearly more than she revealed regarding their personal lives. He made up his mind. Centerville it was! He liked Bedelia Longmore! She wasn’t flighty or flirty. She didn’t bat her eyelashes, giggle incessantly, or accidentally drop her handkerchief. No, Bedelia Longmore was unlike any young woman he’d ever met before. Bedelia was quite taken with him as well. Tall, handsome, and intelligent, Thorn seemed to be a perfect gentleman and although she’d never had a beau, if she got to choose, she’d pick him to be her first. Then it happened: “Mr. James,” she said as she hurried to catch up with his long stride. “You never did say what you were planning to do here in Centerville,” she said breathlessly. “I guess I didn’t,” he admitted with a smile. “I was taken completely off guard meeting you. But yes, you should know that I am not a rambling man without means,” he continued. “You see Miss Longmore; I plan to start Centerville’s first newspaper. I’ll see you on Saturday. I really must hurry if I’m going to make my appointment on time. Thank you for taking tea with me, pretty lady.” It was a long time before Biddy moved from that spot. She watched him until he was out of sight and still she stayed as though glued to the boardwalk. A newspaper! He was the reporter and he was planning on starting a newspaper. He was one of the reasons the bank had denied her a loan that very morning! Damn, she’d given him far too much information, told him far too many details and unwittingly passed on some of her best ideas to her competition! Hell’s bells. Let the contest begin! Book 3 in the Come Sundown series, The Newspaper Man and Bedelia is now available at your favorite eBook retailer. Bedelia and Thornton both want the same thing. She has the advantage, for she knows his plans. Unfortunately, Thorn has no idea he's revealed his intentions to his fiercest competitor. With her dearest friends, Carrie Ann and Kate, at her side she sets her out to secure her future, knowing when he finds out there will be hell to pay. For a man who stated he was not a fan of corporal punishment, he's given her a surprising number of warnings that he's looking forward to taking her over his knee and discovering her secrets. Once he makes good on his threats things change. “He’s compromised you then,” Carrie Ann insisted almost jubilantly. “He’ll have to offer for you, and you can then turn him down most cruelly.” Bedelia rolled her eyes before glaring at her friend. “Don’t you see? Now that he’s kissed me, I’m not sure I have the fortitude to refuse him.” Buy Links: Amazon Universal Link Thanks for stopping by. I hope you'll enjoy this 'battle of the sexes' American Historical Western Romance. Check out the first two books in the Come Sundown series, The Rancher and Carrie Ann and The Marshal and Kate. Happy Summer Reading! Hugs, Stevie Hello everyone! I'm welcoming in 2021 with a new release on New Year's Eve, so if you staying in maybe this book will be just perfect for a cold winter's night while we wait for the ball to drop! The Marshal and Kate is book 2 in the Come Sundown series. A hot romance is kicking up some dust in the old west! A sexy Marshal, looking to rope his woman, is about to find himself smack dab in the middle of a mystery. The woman he craves is up to her pretty neck in murder and mayhem! Kate McKutchin has her share of problems. Strong, proud, and fiercely independent, having a man in her life is a complication, but she’s unable to resist the attentions of Martin MacPherson. His midnight raids leave her breathless and sated. Oh, Kate knows the townsfolk gossip about her, however, that is the least of her worries. She has far darker secrets in her past, ones she hopes will never make it this far west. Marshal Martin MacPherson is stuck on Kate and has been from the moment she first appeared in town. She’s troublesome to be sure, but her embrace is one he longs for and it’s his intention to make their relationship permanent. The beautiful redhead has refused him more times than he can count, making him a bit of a territorial joke. Determined to win her he’s not above using a little over-the-knee encouragement, but Kate remains firm. She cannot marry him. It’s not until a wanted poster crosses the marshal’s desk that he begins to wonder just who Kate McKutchin really is.  Here's a little preview: Martin woke early, the dawn barely streaking the sky. Stumbling from the bed he pulled on his jeans and walked to the main room of the cabin. He needed the outhouse. Barefoot he padded across the plank floor, surprised to see Kate sitting at the table. She appeared to be naked but for a green shawl that was wrapped around her shoulders and hung down, covering her breasts. The lamp on the table was lit. The flame small, but the light it cast was more than enough for him to see the wrath in her green eyes. Stopping just before the doorway he paused and scratched his head. “Kate, about last night,” he began before watching her hand rise from beneath the table holding her Colt 45. “Get dressed and get out,” she said. Her words were spoken quietly. They were almost whispered, but he clearly heard the fury she held in check. Gently, lovingly she placed the gun on the table and picked up her cup of coffee, taking a sip. “Kate, I know you are angry, but…” “Get out,” she repeated, this time her words were much more forceful. Her eyes narrowed slightly as her hand moved closer to her gun. “Don’t you think you’re being a little unreasonable?” he asked, planting his hands on his hips and glaring at her. “I won’t ask you again,” she warned. For a moment, her eyes traveled over his naked torso. They almost seemed to be caressing him. Then they turned cold. He could see the tightness around her mouth, the tense line of her jaw. “It was only a little spanking,” Martin growled. “One that you deserved for your ridiculous threat to begin seeing other men when you know you belong to me.” “I belong to no one,” she snapped back. “I chose to let you into my life. I chose to share my body with you. You do not own me, and you never will,” she hissed, her eyes flashing. “Now get out before I do something I’ll regret, and don’t come back unless and until you have an invitation.” “I love you woman,” he bellowed, striding to the table, and planting his hands down on it as he leaned forward. “I want you to be my wife, and you’re the only woman I’ve ever said those word to!” “Then I’m sorry,” she replied. “It was not my intention to fall in love with you, or for you to love me. I thought we were friends. Friends who enjoyed each other’s company, no strings attached.” “So you feel nothing for me?” he asked harshly. “I mean nothing to you?” “I did not say that,” Kate answered with a frustrated sigh. “I said no man will ever ‘own’ me again. No man will tell me what to do. I’m free, for the first time in my life, and I like it. You made plans,” she accused. “You took things for granted. That was your mistake. I’ve always been honest with you.” “You’ve never been honest,” he contradicted angrily. “You appeared out of nowhere, with no rational explanation why a woman with your background would choose to come way out west and live alone, working until your hands are callused and…what do you mean by ‘again?” Kate ignored his question, instinctively knowing she’d let something important slip. “You know nothing about my so-called background,” she said coolly. “I know you’re educated. I know you have social graces that seem to come naturally to you. Despite your insistence that you have no family someone raised you, Kate. Someone with the wherewithal to see that you could fit in with a society a few steps higher up the ladder than what you’ll find here. You’ve refused to tell me anything, anything that mattered.” “Because nothing matters,” she replied. “I have no past, and my only future is living on this land and eking out a living as best I can.” “Then let me help you,” he pleaded. “Let me make a future with you, one that is bright and full of life and love.” Kate snorted and shook her head. “I believe I asked you to get out of my house, Marshal MacPherson,” Kate repeated. “Don’t make me force you to leave.” Martin stormed into the bedroom and threw on the rest of his clothes. Back in the main room he pulled on his boots and stomped his feet into them. All the time Kate watched him, emotionless. Shrugging into his jacket he looked at her and rolled his eyes. “You are a damn obstinate woman,” he growled, snatching his hat from the rack on the wall. “We both know you’d never use that gun against me,” he scoffed. “Just be glad I have things to take care of or I’d teach you a thing or two about what you’ll be able to get away with as my wife, and what you won’t.” Slapping his Stetson onto his head Martin yanked the door open wide. He turned his back, heard the shot, and watched in shock as his hat flew from the top of his head into the yard. Striding after it he picked it up staring at the clean hole right through the high crown. Spinning around he glared at Kate. His hand rested on his belt buckle as he tried to decide if he wanted to whip it off and blister her ass. She stood in the doorway watching him for a moment before calmly closing the door. He heard the heavy bar fall into place. Her intentions were clear. It was to keep him out. His shoulders stiffened as he strode to his horse and mounted in one bound. Some things were better left to another time, he thought as he rode away, but he swore a blue streak all the way into town. ‘No one will ever own me again’. Those words were burned into his consciousness. Who had owned her, and what had they done to his Kate? That was what he wanted to know. That was what he was now determined to find out! I hope you enjoyed this little snippet. You can purchase this book on Amazon, as well as other retailers. Just click the links below. Amazon Universal link for Apple, Kobo, Barnes & Nobel, Angus and Robertson, Vivlio, and Indigo You can find me just about anywhere, lol. The easiest place to start is linktree. I'd love to hear from you.   .So there I was, happily putting my newsletter together when one of my muses, secretly referred to as, Mr. Know-It-All, invaded my head space insisting I write what he wanted me to write. I mean, really! How rude can you be? It's not like I don't have other things to do! Actually, I have a million and one things to do, and the list grows by leaps and bounds every single day, but I digress. "It's nearly Halloween," says he, "and you still haven't worked on that story I gave you nearly a year ago. Now you'll miss this year's market! Don't you ever listen?" "Of course, I listen, but you aren't the only one who talks to me, you know," I reply as my fingers fly across the keyboard. I try to ignore him. Suddenly I'm making tons of mistakes and in frustration I stop typing and smother a growl. "Speak and begone!" "Don't tempt me, you ungrateful little wretch. Who do you think gave you Rory O'Malley? And who refused to keep their mouth shut when you nearly turned poor Delbert into the Prince of Wimps? Who stopped you from doing that and helped you save Bridget from a life of misery with a gutless little wonder she thought she wanted? " "You did, " I admitted begrudgingly. "You bet your sweet ass I did," he snapped. "And if you want my help in the future, you'd better at least start that damn story!" "Okay, okay, I'll start the story, but I won't be able to finish it," I whine pitifully. "It doesn't matter. I know you, and I should for you've driven me insane for the last ten years with your procrastination and dilly-dallying around. If you start it, you'll finish it, eventually," he stated rolling his eyes. I nodded. "And I've been thinking about it," he drawled, looking at his hands and flexing them. "I want you to add her sisters. It's always so much more fun when I have multiple women to play with." "Anything else?" I ask through gritted teeth. "Yes, do it now. Right now while I stand here. For some reason I don't trust you to follow my instructions and if you had any sense at all you would. Believe me, you don't want to piss me off, Stevie. There are others I could be helping." "Why me?" I ask out of genuine curiosity. "Why do you help me?" He was silent for so long, I thought he was not going to answer. Finally he replied, and it shocked me. "Because you care. For you it's not about the money or the numbers or the name. It's about you trying to make people happy. You want to help them escape, as you escape when you're writing. It's freeing for you. It lightens your soul, and my dear, you've been sad for a very long time. And this is why I help you and I'll continue to until you don't need me anymore." And there was not a thing I could say to that. I started writing. The Witch Itch
She sat by the pool sweat trickling between her breasts and trailing from her hairline in minuscule rivulets. The sun had long ago driven the others inside. They argued over lunch and Gwen had no desire to antagonize him further. You’d think after nearly three centuries together she’d have learned his boundaries by now, but apparently not. On her bare legs rested a novel. On the stand beside her was a glass of pink lemonade, the last ice cube now but a sliver. Oh what she wouldn’t give for a little breeze, she thought sighing. Gwen clenched her hands into fists, her polished pink nails creating half-moon crescents in the palms of her hands and looked around. What could it hurt? Just a little breeze would be no trouble at all and no one would be the wiser. Uncurling her fingers she tipped her head back against the chaise lounge and looked up at the blazing sky through her dark sunglasses. Slowly she beckoned the wind, her slender fingers moving in a ‘come to me manner’. A slight smile touched her lips as she felt the first tender breeze, then all hell broke loose. A mighty gust caught her lounge from beneath sending it backward. Gwen tumbled ass over teakettle to the concrete as other empty lounges and cushions flew around her. She heard glass shattering as her drink crashed to the side of her. Blinking rapidly she slipped her glasses to the top of her head where they held back her long dark hair. Crap! How the hell had that happened she wondered as she looked at her bleeding knee and gently touched her elbow? Her fingers came away red. Suddenly she shivered. There was no point in looking up. He’d be there as he always was whenever she was hurt or in danger. “I thought I asked you not to,” he said as he lifted her to her feet and marched her from the shambles she’d created. “Asking is not telling,” she shot back, tugging ineffectually to remove her arm from his firm grasp. Peeking up at him from beneath her lashes she watched his dark eyebrow shoot up in disbelief. “All right, I’m telling you. No more until after you see Benjamin next week.” “My book,” she protested, looking over her shoulder. Instantly it appeared under his arm. "I don't need to see Benjamin, the Witch Doctor," she sneered. "My sisters will help me." He snorted in derision. "That's all we need, those two rebels interfering. Jocelyn and Cristelia have been thorns in my side since I rescued you." All too soon he was opening the door to their suite and spinning her inside as he released her. “I knew this vacation was a bad idea,” he stated angrily. “I don’t see why,” she replied insistently. “It’s been a hundred years, at least since we had one.” “That’s because you can’t behave, you little spawn of Satan,” he tossed back. “Hey, that’s not fair,” she cried. “My mother was a good witch, my father a fallen angel, but that doesn’t make me evil!” “You are correct! It makes you a naughty little witch,” Michael replied. “Now see here…” With an almost absent flick of his huge hand she flew through the air. Instinctively she braced herself for impact. Gwen landed against a wall that was as soft as a feather pillow in a spread eagle position. She was stuck as surely as if he’d glued her in place. “Michael,” she whined nervously. “Be still,” he ordered leaving her there as he went into the bathroom and returned with a damp cloth. Carefully he washed away the traces of blood from her knee. Pulling her arm down he bent it and cleaned her elbow as well. Then he kissed each wound. They healed as she looked into his eyes. “Thank you,” she breathed as he gently stuck her arm back against the wall. “Your words are premature,” he said coolly. Gwendolyn gasped when he snapped his fingers and her white string bikini fell away. “Why did you do it?” he asked curiously as he stood back and looked at her naked body “I was hot. I just wanted a little breeze,” she admitted shamefully. Michael pursed his lips and gently blew cool air that swept from her hair to her toes but seemed to be slightly more concentrated on her breasts and the juncture of her thighs. Her nipples pebbled into hard little nubs. Gwen sighed in pleasure. He stepped back and smiled. Then his eyes narrowed. She didn’t trust that particular smile, not for a moment. It wasn’t in any way a display of genuine amusement. “I don’t like it when you disobey me,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t realize it was an order,” she snapped back trying not to glare at him. Her eyes swept the room looking for something suitable to hurl at him. Her fingers began to wiggle. Michael laughed. “My love, you’ve gotten very predictable,” he drawled taking her hands and trapping them between the small of her back and the wall. “I think I like this position better anyway,” he continued, blowing an icy blast toward the puckered peaks of her full breasts now arched toward him. A low moan escaped her throat and she scowled. Damn him for being so handsome. He hadn’t aged a bit since the day she met him. He was still huge, towering over her. His black hair was as shiny as a raven’s wing, not a touch of silver anywhere and his stern gray eyes still had the power to render her tongue-tied. What had changed was that he’d learned all her secrets, well, nearly all of them. He was also a much better lover than the man he’d been back when he was always in a hurry. Now Michael was slow and methodical, at least until his own passion overtook him. He could tease and torment her for hours if he so desired. Despite his still youthful appearance he was a mature man fully dedicated to making sure she was well protected and cared for. “Michael let me down. I’m cold now,” she insisted making no effort to conceal her annoyance. “I’m about to remedy that,” he replied smoothly. Gwen stared into his eyes, noting his satisfied expression at the same instant she began to feel the heat begin on her bottom. “Cutting corners are we?” she sassed. “Yes, I thought we’d cut right to the chase,” he replied calmly as he watched her start to wiggle. “Oh, oh, oh,” she moaned. “This is unacceptable. If you’re going to spank me, the least you could do is touch me.” “But my darling, I am touching you. In my mind you’re over my knees and my hand is instructing you to listen when I speak to you,” he said with an evil grin. “Besides, this is so much more convenient. You’re not scratching and clawing to get away and I don’t have to listen to you caterwauling as though the hounds of hell were after you.” “Yet,” she hissed. “Yes, yet,” he agreed stepping closer and fastening his lips on hers. Gwen screamed into his mouth feeling each searing swat even though his hands were gently cupping her face. His thumbs brushed away her tears yet he continued to chastise her, his powerful mind orchestrating the severity of each smack. It was not until her cries had turned to whimpers that he released her lips and stroked her hair back from her forehead. “I asked you not to use your powers until we’ve consulted Benjamin for advice,” he reiterated. “I hope I don’t have to remind you again.” “You won’t,” Gwen sobbed, shivering as his hand trailed along her cheek. A moment later he cupped her naked breast, teasing her nipple. Soon he was stroking her tummy before he finally settled between her spread thighs. “Ah,” he breathed in satisfaction. “Even a virtual spanking excites you. This is good to know,” he crooned as he buried his long finger inside her. Gwen let her head drop in defeat. “Do not be embarrassed my darling Gwendolyn. I am hard as well. Although this method lacks a certain intimacy it’s certainly much quieter. I’ll reserve the use of this for those times when we are not alone.” His hand was busy. Now two fingers were sliding in and out of her, his thumb rubbing gently across her nub. She bit her lip. “You may come, naughty little witch,” he offered. “You’ve paid the piper and I won’t deprive you of your pleasure…this time. Come my darling, come hard. I want to feel your body clutching my fingers. I want to feel your swollen nubbin quivering against my hand,” he whispered. Leaning forward he drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Gwen cried out and he placed his other hand over her mouth. “Shh, we don’t need security in here,” he warned as he released her nipple with a pop. “Remember what happened the last time we stayed in a hotel?” Gwen nodded. “Good, now heed my words and take your release before I change my mind,” he growled before moving toward her other nipple. “I’m going to ride you soon. I’ll be taking every inch of your sweet slit and you know it’s often uncomfortable when I don’t hold back. And Gwen, I’ve no intention of holding back. I’m going to fuck you deep and hard,” he stated looking into her wide eyes. “You’ll cry a bit, you always do, but you know that after I’ve punished you, my need is great. Even after all these years I still do not understand why you misbehave so when you know the price you pay will be twofold,” he remarked before nuzzling her neck. She moaned against the hand covering her mouth when he pushed his fingers deep and fluttered them. “How wet and warm you are my naughty darling. Hurry now before my patience runs out,” he breathed against her skin. She knew Michael was as good as his word. Most times he was a gentle, tender lover, stifling his passion and taking possession of her delicate body slowly. Often she could not accommodate his full length and girth easily and he carefully eased most of his cock inside her body as he stimulated her nub with his fingers. It was his practice to stretch her and he had special oils he used to pave the way. But not after a punishment. Never after a punishment. Then he was strict and determined. She belonged to him. She was his wife. He’d saved her life nearly three hundred years ago and she would obey him for the rest of hers. He might not be able to control all of her actions, but he would control her body and he would take his pleasure from that body as he chose. To Be Continued…  I'm pleased to share Brandy Golden's new release today. I have it on good authority that you don't want to miss this one! Kellina has known the deep anguish of losing her soulmate. However, her vow to never love again is shaken to the core when she meets Forbes MacColloch, an intensely attractive and compelling man despite his scars. Desire she thought long dead rises from the ashes of the past and begins to flicker into flame once more. Bitter, disillusioned and forsaken by his fiancé, Forbes MacColloch has no intention of ever getting involved with another woman until Kellina Duncan slips into the crack of his wounded soul. He’ll never love another woman, but perhaps he can have her over his knee and in his bed without a lasting commitment. Excerpt Feeling frustrated, Kellina suddenly grabbed the liquor bottle and threw it off the cliff. "Hey—that's mine, ye brat!" She faced him, her hands on her hips and her eyes turning dark as she scowled down at him. "I'm nae a brat, it's ye who are the brat," she snapped. "I dinna know anything about yere surgery, Corny never mentioned it. It's none of my business if ye want to lounge on the cliffside feeling sorry for yereself instead of doing something about it." He reached up and grabbed her hands, pulling her forward until she was bent down where he could put one large hand behind her head and draw her mouth to his. Kellina didn’t fight him. She found she wanted to taste him, and he tasted good, like salt air and dominant male. Her head spinning, she didn’t object when he lifted her and sat her in his lap, his mouth swooping down to claim hers again. The punishing kisses soon turned gentle as he explored her mouth, one arm behind her back and the other slipping under her sweatshirt to find the pebbly surface of a nipple beneath silky material. She moaned and arched into it, losing herself in the spicy scent of him and the drugging pleasure of his kiss. Her hand lifted to comb through his hair as she’d wanted to do the first time they’d met, feeling the texture against her sensitive fingertips. When his exploring mouth left her lips, she gasped as it nibbled against the silky skin of her neck. "Poe—ye have to stop." Their eyes locked with each other, both panting slightly. "I owe ye a spanking, but now is not the time nor the place," he growled, his black eyes pinning her in a hot glare. "Ye didna need the scotch," she retorted defiantly, struggling to get free of him. "It wasna yeres to throw away." He held her easily in spite of her struggles, which only made her angry. "Let me go," she hissed. "I can't believe ye pulled me into your lap when ye've been in such pain." "Ye took all the knots out so I'm not in pain right now," he returned, mocking her efforts to get free by holding both her wrists in one large hand. "Me todger salutes ye, as I'm sure ye can tell." She could certainly feel his manhood against her hip, and she trembled with the sudden need to feel him inside her. What was it about this infuriating man that made her hungry with desire when no one else had even turned her pot lukewarm in the last three years? "I'm not above biting if ye dinna let go of me," she threatened. "Ye bite me, lass, and I'll turn ye over and blister yere arse, and I dinna care who's watching." Follow me on my Brandy Golden LinkTree and get a free book on my newsletter signup! Pre-order link https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08L8G5QZH?ref_=pe_3052080_276849420  |
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