Saturday, 20 April 2019

Daddy's Belt is coming soon!!

Wow! I can't believe it's April already! 
2019 is already a quarter over! April is a great month for me. 
This month, I celebrated 17 years married to the love of my life.
My firstborn turned 16 years old.
And my first book for this year is releasing this weekend!
I'm so excited!!

Isn't this cover super hot?!? Korey Mae Johnson at Stormy Night Publications has outdone herself here! Those rippling muscles just make me want to be naughty!

Once again, this book is set in New Zealand. In the North Island this time, in the place I grew up.
I've even included an actual landmark named after my ancestors - a place that's printed on the old maps but is no longer around - Kelly's Landing!

There are no horses in this book. This is literally only the second book I've written that doesn't have horses in it, and the first one was a sci-fi so doesn't count. But I think, despite the lack of horses, you'll love it. There's a hot, spanking Daddy-Dom, a bratty little girl in dire need of correction, a farm, a beach, and lots of sexy hotness all in 50 thousand words!

Read on for the entire first chapter, and a bit of the second!

Daddy’s Belt – by Kelly Dawson
Chapter One
“So I’ve got nothing? I’m broke?” The lump in Melanie Smith’s throat was so big she could barely form the words. Her eyes burned with unshed tears.
“That’s right,” her father’s lawyer told her. “Your father was so deeply in debt that the bank will foreclose on everything he has.” The lawyer’s beady, dark eyes fixed on her with a stare that suggested this was all her fault.
Melanie swallowed. She would not cry. Not here. Not in front of this heartless man who clearly seemed to blame her for this whole mess. She fixed her eyes on the narrow moustache sitting just above his upper lip and took a deep breath.
“How can that be?” she asked, her voice quavering. “He had a good job. A nice house. A nice car.” She fidgeted, twisting the rings on her fingers in despair. None of this made any sense. How could her father possibly be broke?
The lawyer waited, tapping the tip of his silver pen against his huge solid oak desk, watching her with a look of contempt, almost a sneer, on his face.
“I don’t understand! He wasn’t a gambler… was he? He didn’t have any vices that I don’t know about?” He didn’t. She knew he didn’t. Her father was the kindest, most honest, upstanding men she’d ever met. It didn’t seem possible that he’d blown all his money, but yet here she was, listening to the reading of his will, hearing for the first time that she was flat broke, and the plans she’d had for her father’s estate would never be coming to fruition.
“No, he wasn’t a gambler.” The lawyer’s voice cut through her like a knife. “And as far as I know, he didn’t have any vices. Not expensive ones, anyway.”
As she watched him, his lips curled up into the smallest of smiles that didn’t reach his eyes. “Your father was a good man,” he said, but his nasally voice was devoid of any fondness, suggesting that her father had been nothing more to him than one of many clients, a number, not anyone important.
“Your father lost his job a couple of years ago,” the lawyer informed her, his tone cold. “As you can see here,” he thrust a stack of papers at her with neon plastic sticky flags marking various pages. “He took on a lot of debt to keep you in the lifestyle to which you had become accustomed.” The lawyer raised his eyebrow at her then, a clear sign of disapproval, before clearing his throat. “It appears he had trouble finding another job.” Reaching for the stack of papers he’d just thrust at her, that she hadn’t yet touched, he thumbed through the pile. “Credit cards. Bank loans. Re-financing on the house. Personal loans. Overdrafts. Defaults. Default fees. It’s all here.”
Melanie reeled back in her chair, speechless. She felt like she’d been punched in the guts. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart stilled. She’d had no idea….
“Why didn’t he tell me?” she whispered, unable to hold back the tears that now streamed down her face unchecked.
“Maybe he didn’t want you to know?” the lawyer suggested coldly.
“No!” she whispered. “This can’t be right.”
“I assure you it is, Miss,” the lawyer insisted.
She was going to be sick. This could not be happening! She had to get out of here. The uncomfortable wooden chair she sat in scraped roughly across the plushly carpeted floor of the lawyer’s office as she stood up quickly, spun on her heel and fled.
There was very little in her father’s house that she wanted, which was good, because there was very little there that she was allowed to take. A few photos, a few mementoes, and that was it. All her father’s belongings, all her belongings, were to be sold with the house. Even her Mustang convertible, a graduation gift from her father, the car that she’d taken away to college, the car that had been their transport to numerous frat parties and weekend trips, the car that she’d used to cut class and go shopping on a regular basis, was to be sold. She ran her hand along the sleek metal sadly. She’d just heard the engine purr for the last time. Turning away, she knuckled back a tear.
Her swanky Louis Vuitton luggage set waited by the door. Filled to overflowing with the clothes, shoes and make-up she couldn’t live without, the zips bulged at the seams, threatening to let her precious cargo burst out. The suitcases were stuffed so full, there wasn’t the room for even a single item to be added. Every gap had been filled. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. How was she supposed to pack up her entire life? How was she going to say goodbye?
There was a honk as a cab pulled up to the kerb outside the house. The driver got out, took a suitcase in each hand, loaded them into the vehicle. She trudged along behind, towing the largest suitcase on its wheels behind her, struggling with the huge carry-bag slung over her shoulder. She didn’t dare look back.
Tears streamed down her face the entire way to the airport. Her body shook, not just with grief, but with fear. She had no idea what she was in for and even worse, the life that awaited her in New Zealand was the only choice she had.
The phone conversation she’d had with her mother days earlier replayed itself over and over in her head. Part of her wished she’d refused the plane ticket. Part of her wished she’d been brave enough to stay in America, to stay with the friends she knew and loved, in the country she knew and loved, instead of flying half way around the world to live in the country she’d left when she was seven. But realistically, she knew that was impossible. She had no money. No job. No prospects. No options. Her father had been paying for college for her, footing the bill for her room on campus, her tuition fees; he’d covered everything, while she’d partied and shopped and had fun. She’d never had to work. She’d tried once, but it hadn’t worked out, and since then, her father had provided her with a very generous allowance as well as several credit cards. Getting a job with her limited skill set, especially one that would pay enough for her to live on, would be next to impossible. If her very qualified, experienced, hard-working father hadn’t been able to find employment, what hope did she have?
The plane ticket had not been without conditions. I’ve got you a ticket home and a job, she’d said. Accommodation goes with it. But you’ll have to work hard, Melanie. Work hard and be prepared to learn. Can you do that? She remembered nodding dumbly down the phone, because she had no other choice. A plane ticket. A home. A job. A future.
You can’t stay with me, her mother had said, only half apologetically. I’ve just got the one room here, right behind the rest-home. I don’t suppose you want to work here? She shook her head emphatically – she definitely did not. No way was she lowering herself to wiping the bums of geriatrics. She had standards.
Her mother had read her silence correctly. It’s not that bad Mel, she’d said. Some of the residents are absolute sweeties. They make the job worthwhile.
Relieved to not be destitute and homeless, Melanie hadn’t even asked what her new job entailed. She supposed it didn’t really matter. Anything was better than living under a bridge or in a homeless shelter and fishing for food out of garbage bins, both of which were possible options if she stayed where she was.
Thirteen hours on the plane should have given Melanie plenty of time to think, but she was too numbed by grief and shock to think about anything. Her father’s death had been sudden and she hadn’t had a chance to mourn him properly. The call from the hospital telling her that they had her father there, that he’d collapsed on the street and a passer-by had called an ambulance, had turned her life upside down. When he’d passed away not long after being brought in, she’d gone into shock, and never really recovered.
Her head was fuzzy. She felt like she was swimming upstream through glue, maybe weighed down with bricks as well. Her world had been tipped over and she was powerless to right it, no matter how much she fought. Everything was unfamiliar to her. Everything felt wrong.
Trudging down the wide, carpeted corridor of the Auckland International Airport, balancing her precariously-stacked luggage carefully on the trolley as she navigated through the crowd stopping off to buy Duty-Free, she wondered what kind of life awaited her here, in New Zealand. Would her mother be here to meet her? She didn’t know. Nor did she care. If she had her way, she’d crawl into a tunnel and curl up into a ball and hide. Basically overnight, she’d lost everything that mattered to her and now all that was left was the dregs of the life she’d once had. Memories. Grief. An uncertain future.

Chapter Two

The man leaning against a dirty blue sedan was the sexiest man she’d seen in a long time. Blue jeans clung to his long, lean legs that he’d crossed at the ankles. A sleek black jersey stretched across broad shoulders, down a well-built body. Under that body, she just knew there would be muscles. Lots of them. He gave off that type of vibe: confident, sure of himself, capable, dominant. Even leaning back slouched against the car, she could tell he was tall. His arms were crossed in front of his body, but from the little she could see of his hands, they were huge. His chiselled jaw was clean shaven. Dark hair that was a fraction too long touched his collar, partially hid his ears, and his fringe flopped down over his eyes. He had to be waiting for her – she was the only person who’d gotten off the bus at this remote stop, and the small, muddy carpark was deserted. She looked him up and down and licked her lips. So this was her new boss.
Wind whistled around the corner of the buildings, sending a shiver through her, despite the winter coat she wore. Damn it was cold. So very different from the middle of the hot California summer she’d just left.
The man straightened up, walked towards her, held out his hand.
“Blake Howard,” he introduced himself in a deep, gravelly voice.
Her eyes met his, she shook his hand. His grip was strong, his palm rough, leathery. He held onto her fingers for a fraction too long. The directness in his gaze as he scrutinized her the same way she’d been scrutinizing him, made her tremble slightly.
“Melanie Smith.”
“So you’re my new farmhand, huh?”
Melanie’s head spun in horror. “Your new what?” What on earth had she just gotten herself into?
Blake watched in amusement, then anger, at the emotions that played out across the face of the young woman standing in front of him. As soon as she’d stepped off the bus, with her sleek black chin-length hair cut that looked like it had taken hours to style and her black boots with the impossibly high heels that just begged to get bogged down in the mud, he’d known she wouldn’t be any good for the job. But he’d held his tongue. He would give her the benefit of the doubt.
But now? Now that he’d held her beautifully soft hands that clearly hadn’t done a days work in their life, with the perfectly French-manicured nails, and the body that looked attractive but not strong, he was certain she was totally wrong. He needed strong. He needed fit. He needed a hard worker. Someone who was willing to learn. What he didn’t need was the attitude of someone who thought this sort of work was beneath her, if the sneer curling up one side of her pretty mouth was anything to go by.
He looked her up and down and groaned audibly. How had he ended up with her? He couldn’t have found anyone more unsuitable if he’d tried.
She clearly had expensive tastes. Rings graced several fingers of each hand. A gold watch was visible on her left wrist, just under her coat sleeve, and as the sleeve on her right arm rode up a bit, he could make out at least one bracelet that looked expensive, maybe more. Sparkly earrings dangled from her ears. Totally impractical for the farm.
She turned slightly, looking around her. She had the cutest ass. The winter coat she wore belted at her waist flared out at her hips so he couldn’t actually see much of it, but what he could see, he liked. Tight black pants hugged her curves, accentuating her hourglass shape. A light smattering of freckles dusted her nose. They were probably on her cheeks too, under all the makeup. He felt a twinge in his groin. He was a sucker for freckles.
A different emotion flashed across her face. Just briefly, but it was enough: despair. Sadness and fear shone in her eyes and his heart went out to her. People might call him a hard man, but he wasn’t heartless. The poor girl looked as unhappy at this arrangement as he was.
“What did you think you’d be doing?” he asked her gently, deliberately softening his tone. Her lower lip was quivering and it looked like she was about to cry.
“I don’t know,” she admitted in a quavering voice. “I didn’t think to ask. I was so relieved to not be homeless and destitute.” Her voice trailed off and her shoulders shook. She turned away from him, shielding her face from his gaze. “My mother arranged this for me, when I was still in America”
“I know, I paid for your ticket,” he told her. And by the looks of you it was a waste of damn money, his inner voice growled.
She carried on as if she hadn’t even heard him. “All she told me was that I’d have to work hard and be willing to learn.”
“Yep, that about sums it up,” he agreed. “Can you do that? I can teach you everything you need to know, if you can work hard and learn.” He expected the learning curve would be much steeper for her than he’d originally figured it would be, and maybe it would be too steep and she’d quit. But right now, he was out the cost of the plane ticket, and he had no other options for staff, so he may as well try and make the most of it.
“I don’t know.” Her voice was small; she sounded scared. “I’ve never had to work hard before. I didn’t even work at college, all I did was party.”
He watched her, getting more and more furious at whatever fates had sent him Melanie to work for him, as she swallowed repeatedly, fighting back the tears that shone brightly in her eyes. If he hadn’t been so frustrated at his own foolishness for not only hiring someone he’d never met, but also shelling out for a plane ticket for her, he would have felt sorry for her. She was obviously way out of her depth, and carried a whole heap of baggage. For her to end up here, like this, she’d obviously believed she had no other option. She needed a counsellor, not a boss; therapy, not a job. And he was going to have to find a hell of a lot more patience than what he currently possessed if they were going to have any hope of this working out at all.
He knew he was glaring at her, and tried to relax his face, but he couldn’t do it. Deliberately, he unclenched the fists he held tightly at his sides and rolled his shoulders, relaxing them, trying to make himself look a bit less intimidating and a bit more friendly. But he couldn’t hide the anger that he felt.
“I can try,” she offered, hesitantly. “Is that good enough?”
“It’s all I can ask,” he said gruffly.
She looked like she wanted to run away, like she wanted to be anywhere but here.
“Well let’s get you loaded up and home,” he said brightly, trying to put her at ease. At the word ‘home’ she stifled what sounded like a sob. Oh god. What had he said? Sighing, he grabbed her suitcases, one in each hand, and loaded them into the boot, fitting them carefully around the groceries he’d picked up earlier. He shook his head wearily. This day really couldn’t get much worse.
“You hungry?” Blake intentionally interjected as much kindness into his voice as he could. He didn’t know anything about her past, or about her, but it seemed like she could do with a bit of kindness right about now.
Without looking at him, she shook her head. She looked small. Broken. “You sure? The farm’s about an hour away, and there are no shops between here and there. If there’s anything you want, speak up now.”
“I’m fine.”
She didn’t sound fine. Her voice sounded strangled.
“All right.” He suppressed a sigh. This was not going well at all. “So there’s nothing you want from town then, before we leave? Last chance.” He hoped there wasn’t, he’d spent enough time away from the farm already. He was aching to get back to it, to get Melanie working, to get on top of all the things that needed to be done.
“Alcohol,” she blurted out. “Is there any place to buy alcohol around here?”
Blake groaned. Alcohol. Really? He’d somehow got himself an inexperienced, bratty farmhand with a bad attitude and an alcohol problem? How did he get to be so unlucky?
Clenching the steering wheel tighter, he steered the car out of the deserted carpark, heading for the main shopping street in the small town. “I’ve got wine and beer at home,” he said. “Anything in particular you want?”
Wordlessly, he drove to the bottle shop, as dread knotted his insides.


Saturday, 1 December 2018

#SatSpanks Daddy Takes Command

I'm so excited to be back here in the Saturday Spankings blog hop and I'm sharing a few sentences from my new release Daddy Takes Command!

If you haven't read it yet, it's available for just $4.99 exclusive to Amazon 
and you can read it for free in KU!
It's the third standalone book in my Kiwi Cowboy Daddies series - after 

Plus, there's a 4th story, a Christmas-themed novella with the same characters, absolutely free! 
To grab your copy, click on "FREE BOOK" in the banner at the top of this page.

This particular except is part of a spanking with all three girls at once - Bianca, Jen and Sarah. 
The spanker is Cody Lewis, with Nick (the sexy cowboy on the cover) looking on.

How bad was this going to be, exactly? Surely it wouldn’t be any harsher than anything Nick had already dished out to her? As slowly as she dared, Sarah slid her jeans and underwear down to mid-thigh.

Crack! The loud splat of flesh on flesh as Cody slapped Bianca’s ass made Sarah jump. Beside her, Bianca yelped. Before she had a chance to process what was happening, Cody’s palm landed across the fullest part of her bottom, imparting a fiery sting. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. 

She now understood Jen and Bianca’s trepidation: Cody spanked hard. Very hard. Just that one smack was testament to the hard, paddle-like texture of his hand, and the amount of strength he was able to put behind it, seemingly without any effort at all. This was going to be bad.

Monday, 29 October 2018

New Release!! ~ Daddy Takes Command ~

I am so excited! My 10th book is finally here!
Daddy Takes Command is a follow-up to 
Daddy Takes the Reins and Daddies Take Control but it's entirely 
stand-alone so you don't need to have read the first ones to enjoy this one 
(although if you do want to read them all, I would suggest doing so in order).

Here's the blurb:

After a serious injury leaves her father incapacitated, Sarah Taylor is faced with a stark choice. To keep the farm that has been in her family for generations, she will have to run it herself. But despite her best efforts, it quickly becomes clear that she is going to need help.

Nick Martin is a champion bull rider, and when he accepts a job managing a farm he is just looking for a paycheck. But then he meets Sarah, and from the moment he sets eyes on her, Nick can tell she is in desperate need of a man who will take her in his arms... and over his knee.

Over the coming weeks, Nick makes it his business to care not only for the farm, but for Sarah as well, and it isn't long before she is calling him daddy. Though she blushes crimson as her cute little bottom is bared for a spanking, his firm-handed correction arouses her intensely, and when he claims her properly his hard, dominant lovemaking leaves her utterly spent and satisfied.

As Nick and Sarah work to see the farm through the rough winter months, their bond grows stronger each day. But with both of their lives haunted by past tragedies that tore their families apart, can Nick finally find a way to forgive himself and be the daddy his little girl deserves?

Publisher's Note: Daddy Takes Command is a stand-alone sequel to Daddy Takes the Reins and Daddies Take Control. It includes spankings, sexual scenes, and elements of age play. If such material offends you, please don't buy this book.

I also have another story featuring the characters from the first two books in 
this series - absolutely free!
Grab it at the "FREE BOOK" tab at the top of this page!

Friday, 14 September 2018

Trusting Daddy - Entire First Chapter!

I'm so excited to be part of an awesome anthology of hotness - 25 incredible authors, 25 super hot stories - all for just 99 cents! (limited time only)
Releases 18 September 2018!!

Pre-order at your favourite retailer now!!

My contribution: Trusting Daddy
Tessa Patterson is all alone in the world. But she’s never felt it as keenly until now, when her horse is playing up at the rodeo.
Enter Caine Foster, the cowboy she’s idolized for years. He helps her, claims her, and makes her his own, commanding her submission in ways she never would have imagined.

Chapter One
“No, don’t do this to me!” Tessa begged the big gelding straining at the end of the rope. “Just this one time, please stand still!”

She was so tense her whole body was tight. Her heart pounded so hard she figured Thunder, her jet black gelding, could probably hear it. This day was so important to her, the fulfilment of a lifelong dream. And Thunder was ruining it. He was picking the worst possible time to play up. Right now, she missed her father more than anything.

“Settle down!” she yelled at her prancing horse, but it didn’t help. In fact, it made things worse. Thunder reared straight up on his back legs, striking out with his forelegs, something he hadn’t done in ages, nearly ripping the rope out of her hands. She screamed in fear and sprang back, holding the rope right at the very end. Why was he doing this to her today, of all days? Didn’t he know this day was the reason they’d been running barrels at home for hours on end, wearing a cloverleaf pattern into the grass that probably wouldn’t grow back any time soon? She was shaking, more in anger than anything else. Thunder knew better than to do this.

Stretching as far as she could, her fingertips just reached the whip tucked inside the horse float. Thunder needed to be taught a lesson. No way was he going to keep playing up like this. Not today. She was in charge here, not Thunder. It was about time he remembered that.

Shortening the rope, she raised the whip. Thunder showed the whites of his eyes and began to pull. Just before she lashed the whip down, strong arms wrapped around from behind her, wrenching both the rope and the whip from her grasp. Tessa stood there, shaking and seething with rage, while a cowboy she could only see from the back expertly, patiently, calmed her horse.
“Whoa, buddy.” The deep voice was quiet, soothing, and Thunder responded. 

The cowboy had dropped the whip, holding the lead rope just below Thunder’s halter in his left hand and running his right hand down the sleek black neck now lightly coated with sweat. Thunder was snorting, but the cowboy persevered, speaking softly, calmly, and the horse stopped moving. Gradually, he relaxed. But Tessa didn’t. She continued to shake, close to tears, as waves of guilt and desperation racked her body. Why had she thought she would be able to do this? It was stupid of her to even try.

Her eyes blurred with tears as the cowboy tied a now calm Thunder up to the side of the horse float and turned around. She gasped. Caine Foster! He’d won three all-round national championship titles and she’d idolised him for years. OMG. Of all the people she had to make a fool of herself in front of… of all the people to be incompetent and unable to control her horse in front of… she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. She turned away. No way could she look at him.

At every rodeo she’d ever been to over the years, Caine had competed. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him get bucked off. Although she’d been too shy to actually approach him and speak to him, she’d followed him on social media and spent hours poring over photos of him. And now here he was, in the flesh, just metres away from her. The timing, the circumstances, could not be worse. She was such an idiot.

Tessa froze as strong arms wrapped around her from behind. They felt very much like the same arms that had wrapped around her earlier. Caine. Her heart pounded.

“You know, he’s big and powerful enough to hurt you, but he chooses not to. Why would you take advantage of that?” a deep, sexy voice murmured in her ear. She’d never heard his voice before, but it fitted the image she had of him; it matched that rugged, masculine cowboy she’d seen ride and ogled over social media.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “He just wouldn’t stand still! I couldn’t even brush him, let alone get the saddle on, and I’m in the local barrel race soon…” She choked on her breaking voice. The strong arms pulled her closer, a thumb ran up and down her arm, soothing her.

“Let me help you.”

They stood there like that for ages with Caine’s strong body against her, reassuring her, and slowly her racing heart steadied and her rapid breathing slowed. When she was calm, the cowboy holding her let her go and walked around to stand in front of her. She didn’t want to look at him, but he extended his hand toward her, giving her no choice.

“I don’t think we introduced ourselves,” his deep voice rumbled. “I’m Caine Foster.” He winked, and she nearly melted.

“Tessa Paterson.” She took the hand he offered. His hand was calloused and his grip firm. She couldn’t help but smile as he met her eye.

“Nice to meet you, Tessa. Now, how about we get this horse of yours here ready to ride?” He held her hand for a second more, his piercing stare seeming to search her very soul, before he let her go.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Caine was around the other side of her horse and she couldn’t see his face when he spoke again.

“You should be spanked for considering mistreating your horse like that.” His growly voice was quiet, and a wee bit muffled by Thunder’s body. Shivers ran down Tessa’s spine. She hadn’t heard him correctly, surely. But if she had… she quivered in excitement.

At the same time, she had a flash of guilt and shame. Even before she’d picked up the whip, she’d known it was a bad idea, but she’d done it anyway. It was so unlike her, something she’d never done before, and likely would never do again, but she was desperate.

“I know,” she admitted, her voice small. “But I didn’t know what else to do. I know it’s a lame excuse, but it’s the truth.”

Caine looked across at her from over Thunder’s body, his face stern, one eyebrow raised in disapproval.

“It’s my first time doing something like this, and normally, I’d have Dad here to help me. But I’m all alone and…” For the second time in as many minutes, she choked on her breaking voice. She felt utterly pathetic. This was the first time since the funeral she hadn’t been able to get a handle on her emotions. She wasn’t ordinarily a crier. But doing this was so much tougher than she’d thought it would be. All around her, she could feel her father’s presence. He was with Thunder, he was in the horse float, in the ute, here at the rodeo grounds… there was no escape. And yet she was alone.

“Where’s your dad?” Caine asked.


“I’m sorry.” Caine’s voice sounded gentle, so different from the gruff scolding tone he’d used before. He sounded like he genuinely cared.

Don’t be stupid, she chided herself. He’s national champion all-round cowboy. He’s not going to be interested in the likes of you. He’s being kind, that’s all. Just kind. Nothing else.

Even though she believed the words she’d just told herself, she couldn’t help the words that came from her mouth next.

“He died of a heart attack a few months ago,” she told him. “This was our dream, something we’d been working on together. Thunder’s a Kaimanawa horse—he was a wild stallion four years ago. We got him from the muster, tamed him, been training him to barrel race. I know he’ll never be great at it, but it was our ‘thing’, you know? It was fun. We did it together. And now…” She took a deep breath, wringing her hands in front of her, fighting to keep her voice even. “Now I’m doing this anyway, for him, but it’s not going very well.”

“I’ll help you,” Caine told her. “It will be fine, I promise. Won’t it, buddy?” Tessa watched as Caine stroked her horse’s face, and she felt a small spark of hope flare inside her.

“How do you know?” she asked, that doubt creeping back in, making butterflies flutter madly in her tummy.

“Trust me.”

Tessa had no reason to trust this man; aside from a small social media stalking obsession, she didn’t even know him. But watching the way he expertly handled her horse, she knew she had nothing to lose. Right now, Caine was her only hope.

“Okay,” she breathed.

There was nothing Tessa could do but stand and watch helplessly, her tummy churning and nerves still coursing through her, as Caine saddled up her horse.
Timidly, she stepped closer, stretching out her hand to rub Thunder’s sleek neck. It was still coated with the light sheen of sweat and instantly, a flash of guilt shot through her. This was a big deal for him, too. Just a few years ago he’d been running free, a beautiful, wild stallion in charge of his own domain. The rodeo was a far cry from the rugged wilderness he’d grown up on. What had she been doing, losing her temper with the beautiful animal?

She bit her lip. She fully expected Caine to scold her some more, but he didn’t. Instead, he smiled at her over Thunder’s wither, his kind eyes piercing her very soul.

“He’s okay,” he told her. “But you’re not, are you? You’re not even close to calm. I can tell that just by looking at you. You can’t ride in that state. Come here.”

Without even thinking, she melted into the arms he held out and snuggled against his hard body. He pulled her in tight against him, and pressed up against his broad chest, she felt safe, protected.

“You need to relax.” His deep voice was soothing and with his big palm tracing gentle circles over her back as she leaned against him, she obeyed.

Everywhere their bodies touched, tingled. Electricity zinged between them. Caine’s big hand trailed lower with every circle he drew on her back, getting closer and closer to the waistband of her jeans. She held her breath as his fingers slid down to her back pocket, and his hand stilled, resting lightly there. A shiver went down her spine. This was more than just a comforting embrace; passion laced them together now, his possessive touch setting her nerve endings on fire.

Straightening up, Tessa pulled free of his arms and stepped sideways, closer to the float.

“Did you mean what you said before?” She forced a flirtatious lilt to her voice, making her sound far bolder than she felt. Inside, she was a nervous wreck. This could go so, so wrong. But as she playfully looked up at him, she saw the briefest half-smile cross his face. Her insides flip-flopped.

“About what?”

“That I should be… should be… for…” No matter how hard she tried, Tessa couldn’t get the words out. She felt herself blush. Why was she even bringing this up? Because the thought of the sexiest cowboy on earth smacking your naughty little backside turns you on like you wouldn’t believe, her snarky inner voice taunted her.

“That you should be spanked for considering mistreating your horse?” Caine’s deep voice was husky as he looked down at her beneath a raised brow.

“Yes,” Tessa whispered, unable to meet his gaze, mortified.

“Yes, I did,” Caine told her, his voice firm and clear.

He stepped toward her, trapping her against the horse float. She trembled slightly as he placed one hand on either side of her head, blocking her escape with his body. But it wasn’t a tremble of fear; she wasn’t afraid. It was arousal.
“Naughty little girls who lose their temper should be punished.”

Tessa gulped. Caine had spoken softly, just loud enough for her ears alone, yet he may as well have shouted, the way his words were going round and round in her head. Her nipples hardened, her breasts suddenly feeling achy and hot inside her bra. Her body tingled.

“Are you going to?” Her gaze was direct now; it was both a question and a challenge.

“Do you want me to?”

Yes! Yes, she does! her inner voice yelled, but Tessa couldn’t speak. Her throat was clogged by her pounding heart and the air was too thick to breathe. Her senses were on high alert, her nerve endings all firing simultaneously. She was consumed by the passion burning brightly in his dark eyes and couldn’t look away, couldn’t move.

“Do you want me to take down your pants and whip your bare bottom long and hard with the same riding crop you were going to use on your horse?” Caine stroked her cheek with his thumb, his rough skin scratching her face.

Tessa couldn’t breathe. Was this even happening?

“Do you want to atone for your temper, little girl? Do you want me to thrash away your guilt? Because you do feel guilty, don’t you?”

His thumb on her cheek stilled as he waited for her response, but she couldn’t make herself form the words. Of course she felt guilty. She nodded instead, just slightly, but it was enough.

“You know it would have been wrong to hit your horse like that. You know it was only going to make a bad situation worse. And now you need to be punished.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. And the whispered growling turned her churning insides upside down and sent heat straight to her pussy. She clenched her thighs tightly together.

“After your ride, do you want me to take you aside and punish you soundly? Do you want me to set fire to that naughty little ass, to teach you a lesson?” Caine released her chin, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

“I need an answer, little girl.”

Biting her lip, Tessa nodded slightly as her heart pounded. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Yes, Daddy,” Caine corrected, his quiet voice stern.

Tessa felt herself blush even deeper as the heat ran through her body, right down to the tips of her toes. She was rooted to the spot. Her tongue was thick, her mouth too dry to get the words out. She took a shallow, ragged breath.
“Yes, Daddy. But only if…” She stopped, hesitant. What the hell was she doing? Was she crazy?

“If what, little girl?” Caine demanded, sounding both stern and gentle at the same time.

“Will you comfort me afterward? If you make me cry, I mean.” Shame flooded through her. This was wrong. It was so wrong. She felt so naughty, almost dirty. But at the same time, it felt so right. It was just what she’d always wanted.

A smile slowly spread across Caine’s handsome face and he reached out and drew her into him again, holding her tight against his chest. “Of course, baby girl,” he whispered. His hand slid down to cup her bottom through her jeans, and squeezed. “That’s the part daddies do best.”

Tessa’s whole body fizzed, every single nerve ending buzzing, as she leaned against Caine’s powerful body, the hard bulge in the front of his jeans pressing into her hip. She swallowed hard. She was so wet. His words had done incredible things to her, and even if he never followed through on his promise, she would never forget the way she felt right now; the way he’d made her feel.

“You’d better warm up your horse.” Caine’s voice broke through her thoughts, startling her.

She stepped back, shaking her head to clear it, trying to focus. “Uh, yeah, I guess I should.” But she didn’t move; arousal still coursed through her body, her pulse raced, and her heart pounded. She took a deep breath. She could do this. Of course she could.

Smack! She jumped as Caine’s palm connected her with her left buttock, the playful swat imparting a slight sting through her jeans. He winked rakishly, before handing her the lead rope.

Damn, the man was handsome! As she wedged her left foot into the stirrup and swung herself into the saddle, Tessa couldn’t get him out of her mind.

Wednesday, 29 August 2018

Deleted Scene from The Ways of the West

Sometimes, a scene I really love doesn't make it past editing for one reason or another.
I don't remember why this one didn't make the cut, but I really liked it, and I'm posting it below so you can enjoy it, too.

“Frank?” she questioned. “You … you … you shot him!”
            “Yes.” Johnny’s answer was so simple, so honest, but it appalled her. The fact that Johnny only shot to save his life and hers didn’t matter – the only thing that mattered was that her husband, the man she had pledged to honour and obey for the rest of her life, had just killed a man right in front of her. He was a murderer. A killer. And she was married to him.
            “I had no choice Jessie. It was either him or me. He’d threatened to kill you too; if Mr Jordan hadn’t stepped in when he did, you would be dead right now. I had no choice Jessie. I HAD to do it. Do you understand?”
            “You killed him!” She backed away from him, pointing a shaky finger at him accusingly. “You shot him … and you killed him!” Wrenching herself out of his grasp she spun on her heel and ran. Her legs were wobbly, but she could still run. She couldn’t see through her tears so she ran blindly, wanting nothing but to get away. She couldn’t be married to a killer. She just couldn’t be.
            “Ooof.” The breath knocked out of her as she bounced off a solid mass but big hands wrapped around her waist and stopped her, holding her fast.
             “Let me go!” she cried, squirming frantically. “Please just let me go.”
            “Do you promise not to run away?” Davey asked. “I’ll let you go, but don’t go
running off. It’s not safe. I’d have to run after you, and I’m too tired to do that now.”
            “Fine.” All the fight had gone out of her now, and when Davey released her she sank to her knees on the ground and pressed her face into the dirt where she sobbed pitifully.
            “Get up, you’re getting covered in dust,” Davey scolded gently as he grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. “Look Johnny’s fine and Frank’s dead. You should be happy. I was at your weddin’ remember, I know how much you love the man.”
            “Frank’s dead because Johnny killed him! I don’t want to be married to a murderer!”
            “If Johnny hadn’t killed him one of us would have - Mr Jordan, probably. None of us take kindly to a man holding a gun on a woman. Count yourself lucky. You got a good man.”
            “You don’t understand, do you? I was raised in Boston. This sort of thing just doesn’t happen there. In Boston there are laws! I don’t want to be married to a murderer. Just let me go.” Tears were streaming down her face and she swiped at them angrily. None of the men understood the way she felt; killing people was obviously just part of life for them.
            “This isn’t Boston. There’s no law out here, we have to do the best we can. By God you’re a stubborn woman. You need a good tanning!” Gripping her upper arm tightly he pulled her closer to him so he could hiss in her ear. “Stay here. If you run away I will catch you and tan you myself.”
            Jessica gasped in outrage. How dare he! Davey was just a scout with a trail drive, what did he know about women? Drawing back her hand she slapped him hard across the face. It connected well; her hand stung satisfyingly. Before anyone could react she took off, dodging around the assembled men who were too stunned to try to stop her. She couldn’t believe she’d actually slapped Davey, she knew there would be hell to pay when he caught up with her. Fear gave her more speed; she kept running, her feet pounding on the dusty ground, and she left the camp far behind.
            “Hey!” There was a shout behind her and the sound of running footsteps so she ran faster. She knew who it was without even turning around – it would be Davey and Johnny, possibly Mr Jordan as well. She knew that whoever caught her would spank her; she knew from experience that both Johnny and Mr Jordan would. And Davey had threatened to - she doubted even Johnny would stop him from getting his own back on her rear end.
            Slipping behind a bush she crouched down, hoping that the men wouldn’t see her. The action brought back memories of the day she’d hid behind the bushes when the Indians were attacking the wagon train, and she shuddered, the echoes of the remembered gunfire ringing in her ears. Gunfire … killing … there’d been killing on both sides; it hadn’t just been the people on the wagon train who had fallen … She gulped as the reality of life out here dawned on her.
            Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears as she peeked through the leaves at the approaching footsteps. Davey was nearly on her, with Johnny and Mr Jordan not too far behind. None of them looked happy.
            Her hiding place didn’t work. Damn! She cussed in her head. She’d forgotten that Davey was the best tracker on the crew. He simply followed her footprints directly to the shrub she was hiding in, reached in and pulled her out, grasping her tightly by the upper arm.
            “I told you not to run away!” he hissed in her ear. “It’s dangerous out here at night, you could be killed!”
            “So what do you expect me to do? Just stay in camp with my murderer of a husband?”
            “Yes.”  In one swift move he hauled her over his shoulder and landed a flurry of six rapid, hard swats to the seat of her pants.
            “Ow!” she yelled. “You put me down!”
            “Not likely!” Davey replied, swatting her twice more. “You’re going to get what’s coming to you! You slapped me then you ran away!” He scolded, swatting her again.
             “I’m sorry!” She yelped. Davey was igniting a fire in her bottom that was getting hard to ignore. She wriggled and kicked, but Davey held her fast.
            He responded to her apology with another flurry of hard swats.
            “Please put me down,” she begged. “You’re hurting me! I’m sorry I slapped you. I won’t run any more, I promise!”
            With one last, hard swat, Davey set her on her feet. “You better not,” he growled.
            Fighting back tears, Jessica stood, trying to rub the sting out of her bottom, waiting for Johnny and Mr Jordan to catch up with them. Both men had slowed to a walk once they realised Davey had found her, and were only just reaching them now.  Mr Jordan’s face wore an expression of stern amusement but Johnny just looked utterly miserable. Instantly, she felt guilty. Davey was right – this wasn’t Boston. How was Johnny shooting Frank any different to the men on the wagon train who had shot at the attacking Indians? It wasn’t. Killing was wrong, but out here sometimes it was necessary. Johnny had been trying to protect her, he was a good man. How could she be upset with him? Johnny opened his arms to her and without hesitating, she ran into them, wrapping her arms around his waist.
            “I’m sorry Johnny, I’m so sorry,” she told him over and over, pressing her face into his shirt.
            Johnny didn’t say a word, he just held her protectively against his body. Somehow, Jessica knew that he wasn’t angry with her; she knew that he understood her shock. She’d been half expecting him to turn her over his knee and spank her right there, but she knew now that he wasn’t going to.  She hugged him tighter, grateful. Her backside was still stinging from Davey’s swats. Why did cowboys have to be so strong, and spank so hard? She pouted. Life wasn’t fair.
            In silence, they all walked back to camp together, and Jessica knew that now, whatever else happened, everything would be all right.

That scene isn't in the book. But plenty of other spanky scenes are!
You can grab a copy from your favourite retailer - links below.