There he sits, my ex-husband’s lawyer. My son is spending Christmas in California, which is a long way from Blizzard, while the scheming man sits there as if he hadn’t shattered my life. I never want to see him again. Yet he’s the best man in my best friend’s wedding. We’ll be together a lot over the next few weeks. Control myself? Be nice? Not happening.
Her green eyes drew me in from the moment I saw her. I do my job well, and she hates me for it. I’ve got to change that; hate is not what I feel for her. She needs to learn I really do know what is best, and I know how to teach her that lesson. Luckily, we will be together a lot over the holidays. I’ll have time.
Publisher’s Note: This sweet romance is intended for adults only. It contains explicit scenes and domestic discipline. If any of these offend you, please do not purchase.
“Now, talk to me like the intelligent woman I know you are,” he said, “and not like a tantrum throwing toddler.”
“I can’t breath,” she sobbed.
“Yet you are,” he said.
“Pull my pants up!” she demanded.
“Nope, you might need more if you can’t control yourself. Besides, you kicked them off.” His voice sounded too smug like he had something to do with that.
“I can! I can! No more!” Although this butt rub felt awfully good. “Jason left me a voicemail saying Tyler got hurt. I need to go to my son.”
“What happened to him?” Sam asked her.
“He got hurt!” She kicked once more for good measure and realized she was naked but for his white tube socks from the waist down. She clamped her legs together and heard him chuckle.
“What is so funny!” Lily demanded.
“You trying to hide from me now,” he said. “So what happened? Your bare butt is going to be over my lap till I find out, and I can make it lot redder.” She wiggled once trying to get up, but nope.
I grew up an avid reader. My grandmother was a teacher and had all the classics – Mark Twain, Louisa May Alcott, historical biographies, Pollyanna, Heidi, many books from her childhood, and I somehow just knew that all authors were dead already. It never occurred to me I could be an author because, you know, that dead thing. I picked up a book at the library once and it said in the back that the author was living in California with her husband and sons. Fourth grade me thought, “Well, before she died, right?” and it was like an explosion in my brain when I realized some writers were alive. Who knew?
My first full length novel, at thirteen, once I realized I could, was about Greek Slave girls and their stern but kind master. I still write along the same general lines because I don’t like change much. Contemporary times works for me now, though, since I’m always worried about messing up their underwear details. Louisa May Alcott never wrote about underwear.
Writing with a dog or two on my lap is a given, and so is having the tv on while I work. Silence makes me antsy, and music makes me sing along.
I’m thinking of writing a supernatural series one of these days. My sister likes vampire porn and I’m pretty sure I can make up what kind of underwear they have on. As long as someone gets a spanking anyway.
Do you have any hobbies? I breed, board and train dogs. I’m learning to train service dogs. Want your dog to open the fridge and fetch you a beer? I can teach that. I also garden and can.
Coffee or tea? Folgers Black Silk or Starbucks Christmas Blend. Both strong and black. Also Lemon Lift or Peppermint tea, but with sugar, which is why I drink more coffee than tea.
If I could travel anywhere in the world – I’d rent an RV and go West. Montana, Wyoming, Idaho, South Dakota.
If I could live anywhere – probably Kentucky or Tennessee. I need black dirt under my fingernails and in my garden.
What are your favorite novels? Gone with the Wind, the unabridged version of The Stand, by Stephen King and One Second After by William Forstchen