.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…
 

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."

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Will she be taken to task or get away with acting like the spoiled brat she is?
Candace McKenzie did everything she could think of to sabotage her brother Chas’ wedding to Babe, a little nobody who came from nowhere. If it was going to embarrass Babe, Candy was all in. Unfortunately, despite her efforts, the marriage went on as planned. Now, certain people think Candy should pay the price for her actions.
Mark Schaller grew up with Chas and remembers Candy as his little tag along sister. He has also watched her grow up into a beautiful woman with an entitled attitude. When he takes her home after Chas’ wedding, sparks fly. He couldn’t be more surprised when he decides to take her in hand, Candy’s life will change forever.
This is book three in the Sassy Girls series but can be enjoyed independently.
Publisher’s Note: This contemporary romance features humor, sensual scenes and power exchange. If these offend you, please do not purchase.

Excerpt:
“Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” Mark Schaller remarked as he walked up the sidewalk toward the reception hall. “It has legs, well feet, but there doesn’t appear to be a head.”
“Kind of looks like a giant floating marshmallow,” Jeb, one of his best buddies agreed with a smirk. “Wonder who’s under there.”
“Shut the hell up and help me,” the marshmallow demanded as she tripped on a small crack. “I can’t even see where I’m going,” she hissed loudly as she recovered her balance.
“Gee, I don’t know,” Mark drawled, pausing and rubbing his chin. “It sounds a lot like Candace, and if it is this is no more than she deserves. After all, from what I’ve been told she’s the one who picked out that white monstrosity. What do you think, Jeb? Do we help her?”
“Well, Chas is our friend and it wouldn’t do to let his little sister smother, and that could happen if she falls,” he pointed out thoughtfully, “especially on his wedding day. It would sort of ruin the whole occasion, don’t you think?”
“Are you two imbeciles going to help me or stand around running your mouths?” Candace demanded in a frustrated and heavily muffled voice. One visible foot stomped.
“I guess we’d better,” Mark finally said with a sigh.
“Not that she deserves it,” Jeb added, reaching out to pluck the heavy bridal gown out of Candace’s arms. “Imagine putting a little thing like Babe in a dress that weighs more than she does. It was spiteful of you, Candy and just plain mean!”
“Yes, it was,” Mark agreed as he gathered up the dragging fabric and followed Jeb. “Does your brother realize what you’ve done?” he asked over his shoulder as they moved toward Candace’s blue Mercedes.
Candy remained quiet and popped the trunk open on her vehicle.
“I can see that he doesn’t, but he soon will,” Mark promised as he and Jeb stuffed the dress into the back end of the car. “You’ve been a class A brat about the wedding, and what’s worse you acted like you were oh so helpful and supportive. What’s your problem with Babe anyway?” he asked sternly as he straightened up and closed the trunk lid.
“I don’t have a problem with her,” Candy snapped back.
“You’re lying. For some reason, you don’t like her, either that or you’re jealous that you’re not the apple of your brother’s eye anymore, Babe is,” he suggested smoothly.
“That’s not true,” she insisted. “Chas loves me, he always has, and he’d do anything I asked,” she continued, her face flaming.
“Except maybe walk away from the women he loves,” Mark pointed out. “By the way, what’s Babe wearing now that she’s shed of this thing?” he asked giving a short, disgusted wave toward her car as they headed back to the reception hall at a brisk pace.
“Marla bought her a dress,” Candy sneered. “All the way from Paris,” she continued in a sing-song voice, “and made by a famous designer she patronizes. Her Majesty outdid herself this time, most likely trying to one-up me again.”
“It’s not hard to do,” Jeb inserted.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Candy demanded. Stopping to turn on him, she planted her hands on her hips.
“Well, you’ve done a dozen little things to sabotage this wedding, all quietly of course and behind the scenes. Marla was on to you from the first, she’s good at spotting that sort of thing; it’s right up her alley,” he said with a chuckle. “Thankfully, she did everything she could to minimize the damage. In fact, I think you’ll be quite surprised by the subtle changes she’s made to your reception plans.”
“How do you know all this?” she asked with a red-faced gasp.
“Crunch is pretty proud of her; he likes to brag,” Mark replied with a grin, referring to Pete Benedict another good friend and a local deputy sheriff.
“Marla’s a snake and always has been,” Candy hissed.
“So one viper recognizes another?” Jeb asked coldly.
Candace didn’t answer. She swiveled on her heels and rushed toward the hall.
Mark and Jeb followed slowly.
“Do you think we said too much?” Jeb asked.
“No, she had it coming and more. That little brat needs someone to rein her in. Chas has babied her since the day she was born and if he’s not careful she’ll be a constant interference in his marriage. I hope her antics today wake him up.”
“You’re not interested in her, are you?” Jeb asked curiously.
Mark snorted.
“Are you kidding? Whoever takes her on will most likely live to regret it. Oh, she’s pretty enough, but she comes with too much drama and she’s spoiled rotten. Besides, I wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize my friendship with Chas.”
“What could you possibly do that would affect your friendship?”
“I imagine if I gave that meddlesome little brat the spanking she deserves, Chas wouldn’t take it too kindly.”
“Why not? He spanks Babe when she needs it,” Jeb replied in surprise.
“Sisters and wives are two different breeds. While Chas has no problem taking Babe to task when necessary. He might not feel the same way about someone taking his sister in hand no matter how badly she deserves it. After all, to my knowledge, he’s never taken her over his knee even when she got into that huge mess in college and ended up getting expelled. It cost him a small fortune to keep her name out of the paper.
“No, I’m steering clear of that particular female. I’ve sort of got my eye on Josie from the diner,” he admitted. “She’s sweet.”
“And comes with a ready-made family,” Jeb pointed out. “Not to mention there’s an ex-husband floating around and she appears to be afraid of him. Are you sure you want to step into the middle of that mess?”
“No, I’m not sure, just keeping my options open. Come on, let’s go and toast Chas and his new bride,” Mark said opening the heavy glass door.
“Sounds good to me. Jeanine had to work so I’m on my own today. I plan to have one hell of a good time. I even got my beard trimmed for the occasion,” Jeb said with a wicked grin as he tugged on his full red beard. “Lead on McDuff.”

Candy's Comeuppance is now available on Amazon.

Mail-order mayhem…

Captivated by the idea and freedom of mail-order marriage, Amelia heads west to marry. Horrified to discover that her new husband had proposed to so many women before her, she sends a letter to her friends back home, telling them of her dreadful mistake.

Grace and Effie set out to rescue her in Seattle, even if that means finding themselves in a heap of trouble and being chased down by a Pinkerton.

Join Amelia, Grace, Effie, Suzanna and Martha in this complete collection of the Marriage Market series. Fall in love again and again with each couple as they experience commitment, love, loyalty, and a firm hand over the knee!

Publisher’s Note: This steamy Old West romance contains elements of domestic discipline.

Amelia
Fresh out of Mrs. Pettigrew's School for Young Ladies, Amelia Westcott and her two best friends are ready for adventure.  Suddenly a life filled with social obligations and meaningless gossip seems unappealing.  On a whim the girls investigate the phenomena of young women heading west to marry, and Amelia is captivated by the freedom such a decision offers.
Hugh Jordon needs a wife.  The severe shortage of women in the Pacific Northwest makes advertising for a bride seems reasonable. As long as he finds a wife who is the exact opposite of his tempestuous mother, he’ll be well satisfied. Studying the applicants, he chooses one that seems to best fit his needs, and delegates his head clerk with the critical task of sending polite rejections to the others. Unfortunately, most of them never get the letter Hugh anticipated and soon the brides descend, all expecting to marry the same man!
 Amelia is horrified, and realizes that the adage "marry in haste, repent at leisure" has never been more true. How could he do that to her? What sort of man was he, to propose to so many women? She simply must have their wedding annulled and return to Massachusetts at once.
Hugh has other ideas. In his opinion, the perfect place for his bride to learn about faith, loyalty and commitment is in his home and over his knee!

Grace
Grace Wentworth and Effie Lane are cautiously optimistic when their dear friend Amelia decides to travel west to become the bride of a man she’s never met. Despite their misgivings, they’re stunned when Amelia writes to inform them she’s made a dreadful mistake in marrying Mr. Jordon. Determined to rescue her dear friend from the clutches of a scoundrel, Effie makes plans to leave for Seattle immediately. Grace plans to follow when she can escape the ever watchful eye of her mother.
However, everything changes when Grace is forced to accept the proposal of a cruel and violent man. Suddenly, her mother’s wrath doesn’t even compare with what she would face as Horace Remington’s wife. Throwing all caution aside, she flees with Effie, even knowing her mother will most likely hire a Pinkerton man to find her – which she promptly does.
She just never expected to fall for him.
For Jonah Blackthorn, apprehending a runaway socialite seems like an easy assignment. Locating two young, inexperienced women should take him no time at all, and the five thousand dollar reward offered by the frantic fiancé will go a long way, as Jonah has plans to leave the agency and begin a new chapter in his life.
What he doesn’t plan on is being outwitted by the brats – or the fact that Effie Lane isn’t relying on her wits alone to get them safely to Seattle. He also didn’t expect to come to care for the redhead traveling with her gun-toting friend. When he finally catches up with them, he’s going to give Grace the spanking of a lifetime – or kiss her senseless. Maybe both.

Effie
Euphemia Lane had a feeling from the get go that Samuel Jordon was going to give her trouble. In his rude letter, he threatened to spank and disarm her should she show up in Seattle with her pistols. However, his warning doesn’t deter Effie from her mission. Come hell or high water, she and Grace are determined to travel to Seattle to rescue their friend, Amelia. How was she to know that Amelia’s letter was a huge mistake or that Horace Remington would follow them and nearly kill her? And there was no way she could have anticipated what would happen once she and Grace arrive at the Jordon home.
Never would she have imagined that she would receive her very first spanking at the hands of her nemesis. It was galling to say the least, and to top it all off, he relieved her of her pistols after she destroyed a treasured family heirloom and shot Horace. Now she is in Sam’s protective custody until the Marshal determines she had acted in self-defense. The problem seems to be: who is going to protect her from Sam?
Samuel Jordon is so angry when Marshal Cole Hadley sticks him with Miss Lane that he sees stars. In his opinion, she is a sassy-mouthed witch hiding in a sweet little body. His determination to be firm yet detached lasts all of two days. Who knew one little drop of frosting on one luscious lip would change his life forever? What kind of young woman can turn a well-balanced, confirmed bachelor into a perverted fiend who can’t keep his hands off her?
In this, the third book of her Marriage Market series, Stevie MacFarlane has taken her writing to a new, even more erotic level. If spanking and other explicit content offends you, please do not purchase this story.

Suzanna
Seattle hasn’t been the same ever since dozens of women responded to a letter for a mail-order bride. In the fourth book of the popular Marriage Market series, the mail-order mayhem continues. Suzanna and Charlotte, two southern belles who couldn’t be more different, both answered the same ad seeking a husband.
Raised in a world of wealth and privilege, Suzanna feels entitled and will do anything to get what she wants. Charlotte, sweet and generous, falls in love with the man Suzanna has tricked into marriage. Nothing goes as planned for either of these women, yet somehow they both get what they deserve. It’s complicated.

Martha
Martha Jonas can’t seem to help feeling a bit sorry for herself. Ever since the accident that nearly took Euphemia and Suzanna from them, the men are more determined than ever to assert their authority. Even her gentle Ethan, the man she plans to marry, has put his foot down, telling her what she must and must not do. It’s appalling! The very idea that, as her husband, the big Swede would feel justified – no, worse than that – entitled to pull her over his lap and smack her bottom when she displeases him is simply too much to bear.
Perhaps she won’t marry at all. Yes, she is on the other side of twenty-five, but she’s also smart, talented, and turned a tidy profit with her dress shop in Philadelphia before she foolishly replied to that darn advertisement of Hugh’s. He’d wanted a bride… one. He got dozens of offers, which, of course, made the women-hungry men of Seattle happy, but didn’t do much for her. Many of the other applicants were younger, prettier, and often so flighty she wanted to box their ears.
Martha didn’t see herself as silly. An independent woman was not a good match for a dominating man. Not at all, and Ethan was becoming more so by the day. No, she would not marry. The money she had in the bank would help her get started and her friends would help. The new Ladies Aide Society would give her plenty to do outside of her shop and she would dedicate herself to serving those women less fortunate than she, and to shutting down Seattle’s saloons. While Martha was a novice to the Temperance Movement, Clara Webster, another unmarried bride, seemed to know exactly how to proceed.
That, of course, is before all hell breaks loose.
In the space of a few days, everything changes. The men find out about the secret plans for ‘that temperance nonsense.’ They are not amused. Jane’s children go missing on their way west, and their escort turns out to be less than desirable. Dr. Martin is furious. She does not come home that night. Clara Webster falls into the hands of Lucas Armstrong, the owner of The Bucket of Blood, one of the most notorious saloons in Seattle. Mary disappears entirely, and Ethan finally decides he’s had enough of Martha’s wishy-washy attitude toward marriage. With Amelia, Effie, Grace, and Tempest already in trouble and Suzanna off on her honeymoon, Martha works frantically to put everything to rights. Elinore is no help. She has her hands full trying to manage her Mr. Ferguson while he’s determined to keep Ellie from damaging his business. Come along for the ride. Will the last bride bow to convention and accept the love and authority of the man who offers what might be her last chance for wedded bliss?

From The Author:
This series is one of my favorites. It came out of a spark of an idea and took off with a vengeance. One of my favorite characters is Tempest, the matriarch of the Jordon family. Originally her character was going to be a complete bitch, but as I wrote about her, I came to understand her and she developed into a wonderful character who stole my heart and added so much to the story.  She's a remarkable older woman who will make you laugh and have you rooting for her even though she is not one of the brides, but a long-married woman.

Each book has more than the title bride.  There's Molly, who lies about her past.  Jane, an older widow with two children. Alice, a widow with a young daughter who manages to make a difficult journey and still find love.  Charlotte is amazing and catches herself an accidental husband and so many more who will make you laugh and wonder how it will all work out.

So travel back in time, an era where woman had to be tougher than they looked and smarter than they let on.  I hope you enhoy the series.

Hugs,
Stevie