Sunday, 12 January 2020

2020 holds great things!

I'm changing things up in 2020 and one of them is this: I'm going to blog more!

On my blog this year I'm going to share snippets from my books, the inspiration behind my books, extra scenes that aren't in my books, and whatever else comes to mind.

To make sure you don't miss a single post, you can sign up via email over there in the sidebar to the right and get them all direct to your inbox! ----->>

To start the year off right, I'm going to share an excerpt from my brand new book High Country Daddies 

It's from the very first spanking that Carly receives on Ryan's Peak Station at the hands of one of her men.

Also, I've got free stuff. Lots of free books to fill up your kindle this summer (if you're Downunder like me) or to warm up your winter if you're in the freezing northern part of the world. Scroll right to the end of this post to find them!



Mike had his head deep in the bowels of an old tractor but as soon as he heard her he jumped down from the wooden crate he was standing on and came out to her car. The little dog she’d seen yesterday came running out to greet her, running in circles around her feet and barking, but not getting close enough for her to touch.
“Get out of it Goof,” Mike told him, and the little dog disappeared, scampering through the fence and away out of sight. Carly stared after him longingly. There had been a little dog like that at the place she’d kept her horse… Don’t think about that, her inner voice ordered. It’s in the past. Leave it there.
Mike stepped forward. “This tyre,” he said gruffly, bringing her back to the present and away from her memories. She looked up at him, he was pointing out the front drivers side tyre. “I can’t believe you drove all this way on a tyre like that. Look at it! There’s canvas showing through!” She looked where he was pointing and reached forward to run her hand over the rubber.
“Don’t touch,” he warned gruffly, grabbing her wrist. “There’s wire poking through, you’ll get hurt. It’s a wonder that thing didn’t blow,” he growled, straightening up to fix her with a stern stare and releasing her wrist.
Electricity shot up her arm from his touch. The knot in her stomach wound itself tighter as Mike frowned down at her, scolding her in that deep, growly voice that made her feel like a naughty child.
“If you’d hit a sharp stone on that canvas you would have been a goner for sure!”
She gulped. Was the tyre really that bad? She had no idea!
“Give me your keys, Carly,” Mike commanded, stretching out his hand. “You’re not driving anywhere on that tyre - it’s not safe.”
Automatically, her fist tightened around the keyring she clutched in her fingers. She didn’t want to give up her keys. Especially not now that she’d decided to leave. She shook her head, almost imperceptibly.
“Look,” Mike growled. “You should be spanked for driving your car like that. It’s not safe! Remember what we said last night, about safety, rules and consequences? This is a safety issue.”
He kept speaking, but she didn’t hear any more. Spanked was going round and round in her brain. Was that really what they’d meant by consequences? Surely not! The threat of being spanked by the sexiest men she’d ever come across was hardly going to act as a deterrent.
Lust pulsing through her, she gripped the keyring even tighter. Her fingers clutched the thin metal ring as tightly as her bottom clenched in response to Mike’s threat. Her gaze travelled slowly up his body, taking in the lean but powerful build. Heat shot to her core. She licked her lips.
“And if I don’t?” she deliberately kept a light, flirty lilt to her voice, and tipped her head to the side, flicking her hair back over her shoulder as she did so. “You’ll spank me? That’s pretty tempting, you know.”
Mike grinned, humour lighting up his face before he shook his head and forced away his amusement. She felt his whole demeanour change as he frowned. “There’s a vast difference between a good girl spanking and a bad girl spanking,” he growled. “A good girl spanking is the fun one. But what you’re chasing after is a bad girl spanking. Something reserved for naughty girls. You won’t like it at all, I promise you.”
Her tummy flipped. “You don’t know what I like,” she insisted sassily. Even as she said the words, she doubted her sanity. What was she doing, intentionally pissing off the very man who’d just threatened her, when she was all alone with him in the middle of nowhere?


In case you're wondering, yes that scene was inspired by my real life (as many of my books, or bits of my books, are). I'm not known for good car maintenance. I once drove around with the oil light on for an entire week! 
And a few years ago, I was quite happily driving around in a car with a very bald tyre... 
so bald that the canvas was showing through. 
Oops!


And the promised freebies:
Get them here!

Sunday, 5 January 2020

New Release

High Country Daddies is here! It's exclusive to Amazon and in KU! 


If you want to read the entire first chapter, scroll down.... it's further down on this blog! 
And below that, there's a link to get your hands on a free
 copy of Caine - a loosely related novella.
I had so much fun writing this book! It might be my new favourite - 
and that super hot cover is definitely my new favourite!
I hope you enjoy reading it!





Friday, 3 January 2020

High Country Daddies ~ Coming THIS WEEKEND!!

I've got the perfect way to start off 2020 - a new book!
It's coming out on January 3 exclusive to Amazon and in KU!

This one is set on a high country sheep station in the foothills of the Southern Alps of New Zealand and it has three - yes three! - devilishly hot heroes!

Check out this cover! Korey Mae Johnson at Stormy Night Publications has absolutely outdone herself with this one! I love it!


And read on for the entire first chapter:

Carly Morgan clutched the crumpled scrap of paper tightly, trying to spread it out on the steering wheel and get rid of the creases enough to make it readable. The hastily-scrawled note had been virtually illegible when the handsome stranger had first given it to her and now, nearly a whole year later, faded, worn and torn after so long stuffed in the back of her wallet, it was next to impossible to read. Growling in frustration, she threw it on the floor.
This was the road – it had to be. The signpost had long gone and the tarseal had turned to gravel ages ago. It was the only road around for miles. Narrow and winding. Leading to the middle of nowhere.
She could distinctly remember the turn left at the fork and head for the hills instruction spoken in that low, rumbly tone that even now, months later, made her stomach clench. This was the only fork in the road she’d come to in the better part of an hour and behind it were stunning hills. Foothills of New Zealand’s Southern Alps, with the snow-capped peaks of the mountains themselves beyond, towering above the valley. They were majestic, beautiful. It was gorgeous countryside out here, even if it was in the middle of nowhere.
Her mind went back to last year, when she’d first met her handsome saviours. She’d been desperate, waiting on the side of the deserted road for hours. The GPS she’d been following had taken her on this short-cut that really wasn’t, there was no cell phone coverage and she’d discovered, too late, that her brand-new work car didn’t have a jack. She’d been beginning to wonder if she’d have to spend the night there. She’d spent the night in worse places and at least there was a stunning view.
The road had been so deserted that when the dust cloud thrown up by the battered red ute with the huge wheels had slowly got bigger and bigger, she’d thought she was seeing things. Until she’d heard the rumble of the engine getting closer and closer. It had pulled up behind her and three big men, her heroes, had gotten out. Brothers, from Ryan’s Peak Station back in the hills. They’d all been tall, broad shouldered, lean and muscular, and ruggedly handsome, and they’d made short work of changing her tyre. She’d stood on the side of the road and chatted to them as they worked, and casually mentioned that she wouldn’t mind seeing a high country station one day. “It must be so romantic!” she’d commented dreamily. They’d chuckled at that, all of them, but hadn’t corrected her. One of them, a part-Maori man, the tallest of the three, had invited her to the local pub with them for a drink, but she’d politely declined. She had to carry on, she’d said. She’d wasted enough time, stuck out here in the middle of nowhere; she wanted to be back in the city before dark. So they’d gone on without her, but not before another one of them had pressed a piece of paper into her hand.
“Here,” he’d told her. “How to find us.” The wink he’d given her had turned her insides to mush and she’d regretted her hasty refusal to have a drink with them, but before she could change her mind he’d gotten back into the ute and they’d roared off, dust flying up behind them, and she’d been all alone once more.
“This has to be it,” she murmured to herself, taking the left fork. “Oh well, here goes nothing.”
As well as being so dusty that tiny particles of dirt came in through the vents and stuck to her face and hair, the road was potholed and rutted. Her sedan wasn’t small, but it didn’t have big wheels like the ute she remembered, and it jolted and bumped. She slowed to a crawl. “Damn this road is awful!” she muttered, gripping the steering wheel tighter to navigate around the holes.
The road seemed to go on forever. What was it the barely readable directions said? 12k’s? Surely she’d driven that far? She glanced down at the speedo: bang on snail’s pace. It would take a fair while to drive twelve kilometres at that speed.
She kept going.
And then she stopped, amazed. Just over the brow of the hill, to the right, the valley opened up to the most spectacular view she’d ever seen. A waterfall crashed over a cliff to splash into a little pool below. A stream meandered along the valley floor. Cattle were scattered along the river flats. Green grazing gave way to crops further back, with the hills turning into tussock beyond that. To her left the Southern Alps loomed, the snow-capped mountains standing forbidding and powerful. She was stunned. She’d lived in New Zealand her whole life. How had she not known places like this existed?
Forcing her eyes back to the road, she carried on. It couldn’t be much further now, surely?
Just around the next bend a narrow driveway went off to the left. Ryan’s Peak Station, according to the wooden sign standing tall and proud in the paddock. Was this it? It had to be! Butterflies in her tummy tried to make their escape as she steered the car over the cattle stop, bracing herself for the bumpy rumble. What was she going to do if this wasn’t the place? What if it turned out she’d come all this way for nothing?
Her clammy palms slipped on the steering wheel but there was nothing she could do but keep on driving. Fences on either side of the driveway made it impossible to turn around and she wasn’t much chop at backing. Never had been. As long as she was going forwards, she was a perfectly fine driver. But backwards… That had never made sense to her. And she certainly wasn’t going to attempt reversing over the cattle stop. Not when there were concrete barriers on either side just sitting there, waiting for her to hit. No. She’d rather take her chances with what was at the end of the driveway. She held her breath as she inched forwards.
There were trees up ahead. The roof of a house was just visible through the leaves. On this side stood a huge shed, a corrugated iron monstrosity that had no doors and appeared to house myriad agricultural equipment. She recognised a tractor, but that was about it. Everything else inside was completely foreign to her. She swallowed nervously. She was so far out of her depth, here. Why had she even come? What made her think they would even remember her? They probably rescued dozens of damsels in distress from off the side of the road.
Pulling up in front of the shed she put the car into neutral and killed the engine. A little yappy dog, fox terrier by the looks of things, darted out of the shed, alerting the world to her arrival in the noisy way only dogs can. A part-Maori man, as tall and striking looking as she remembered, appeared through a gap in the trees before she’d even opened the door. He stood there with his arms crossed, just looking at her. Glaring, almost. A direct challenge in his dark eyes, daring her to get out of the car and face him, but at the same time demanding that she turn around and go back from whence she came.
Taking a deep breath she opened the door and stepped out. There was a shrill whistle and the little dog left his sniffing of her car, scurrying back to the security of the shed.
“We’re not selling.” His voice was harsh, cold. Nothing like the carefree rumble she remembered on the side of the road.
She flashed him a smile. “I’m not buying.”
“So why are you here?”
Two more men appeared, one came from behind him, through the gap in the trees, presumably; the other one came out of the huge shed, the little dog at his heels. He wore his blue overalls as pants, the top half hanging down around his waist, the sleeves tied loosely around him, a singlet that had possibly once been white but was now stained mostly grey, the only thing covering his broad chest. His shoulders were huge, biceps well defined. Grease was smeared across his face. Even from a distance she could see the dirt in his scruffy blonde hair. He was a mess. But her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He was a mighty fine specimen of manhood. He rested his hand up on the side of the shed and leaned against it, a casual stance that made the muscles in his arm flex. She felt his eyes on her, looking her up and down. He winked, a half-smile creeping slowly across his clean-shaven but very grubby face. There was a dimple right in the middle of his chin.
She wracked her brain, trying to remember his name, all of their names. They’d all introduced themselves; they’d had quite a chat on the side of the dusty road, all those months ago. Clearly, a lot had happened since then. For all of them, her included.
The man at the back stepped forward. Josh. She remembered his slight limp. Although still a good six feet tall, he was the shortest of the three men, the leanest, a bit finer built. The grin he flashed her suggested he knew exactly who she was, and perhaps even why she’d come.
“I remember you,” he said simply. “The lady from the side of the road. Last year. We were on our way to the pub. A Friday night.”
A small tremor went through her as their eyes locked. She smiled. “That’s right.”
Josh pushed past the taller man blocking his way, rather roughly, she thought, using his shoulder as a bulldozer with just a bit too much force. He strode forward, stopped a bit too far away from her, extended his hand.
She had to step forward to shake it. His hand enclosed around hers, squeezed, held on just a fraction too long. She remembered his eyes, a startling blue. She couldn’t tear her gaze away.
“I wondered if we’d ever see you again.” His voice rumbled over her, as reassuring now as it had been then. There was a soft gentleness lurking in the rich baritone, a tender quality that immediately put her at ease and made her feel safe.
“Carly! That’s your name, isn’t it?” The man who’d spoken first, the one who’d been so keen to make sure she knew Ryan’s Peak wasn’t for sale, stepped forward. Now that he knew that she wasn’t in the market for the property his bearing was relaxed, far less imposing and intimidating than it had been at first. He was still a big man, tall, broad, muscular, and he set her heart racing just with his looks and his sheer physical presence.
He stuck out his hand. “I’m Davo.”
The strength of his grip, the callouses on the base of his fingers, the leathery texture of his rough palm, as his hand closed around hers, all confirmed the first impression she had of him. This man meant business.
The last man let go of the shed and came over too. Close up, he was even more handsome than what she remembered. And even grubbier than she’d first thought.
“I’m Mike,” he said. Like the men before him he reached out to shake hands with her, glanced down at his grease-covered palm, wiped it on the leg of his overalls, inspected it, then let it drop to his side with a sheepish grin that made her insides squirm with lust. “I’m the one who actually changed your tyre.”
Without moving, she returned his grin. “I remember. You were a bit cleaner then, though.” She cocked her head to the side and looked at him, taking in the dirt and grease, the sculpted muscles, the fine looking body that she just knew was underneath the clothes. “From memory, you scrubbed up alright.”
He swept both hands up and down his body before winking rakishly. “Are you saying there’s something wrong with the way I look now?”
Carly hesitated, one eyebrow raised. “Well… you’re not exactly clean, are you?”
He shrugged. “Clean’s overrated.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Dirty does look good on you.”
Mike chuckled, a husky, throaty laugh that made her laugh even more. “You sound like our kind of girl.” He waved towards the gap in the trees. “Come inside, have a beer. It’s nearly knock-off time anyway.”

Sound good?
Check out the post below to snag a copy of Caine - loosely tied to 
High Country Daddies - absolutely free!

Sunday, 29 December 2019

Free novella!

I've got a new book coming out! 
January 3! What a way to start 2020! 

It's another rural New Zealand romance, this time set on a high country sheep station in the foothills of the Southern Alps. Not too far from where I live. In some of the most beautiful countryside in New Zealand.
And there's not just one hero. Or two. There's three! Three devilishly hot men, all domineering and alpha and sexy!

This is, quite probably, the hottest book I've ever written. But there's a heart-wrenching storyline in there, too. This book is full of emotions. And hotness. 

It's completely standalone, but also loosely linked to Caine - my novella that was included in the Daddy's Demands anthology back in 2018 under the title Trusting Daddy.

If you haven't read it, grab your copy now - completely free!

Not sure? Read the first chapter here

Click on the cover below to grab your free copy!


Saturday, 16 November 2019

#SatSpanks 3 sexy high country men!


I'm so excited to share a short, spicy excerpt from my book that's coming soon for Saturday Spankings this week.
Like most of my books, this one is set in my homeland of New Zealand. This time, it's on a sheep station in the rugged high country of the South Island - arguably some of the most beautiful countryside in New Zealand - and where movies (such as The Lord of the Rings) was filmed :)
Check out my Pinterest board to see what the fictional Ryan's Peak Station looks like.
It's the perfect setting for romance, and I've tried to bring the land alive in this book.

Her pussy flooded, drenching her knickers, at the words little girl.
It was what he often called her, but right now,
spoken in that stern, possessive tone, her insides melted.
“Take off your pants. Your underwear, too.”
Was it arousal she could hear in his husky tone?
Slowly, she undid the button on her jeans.
Unzipped the fly. Slid them down her hips, down her thighs, letting them drop to a puddle at her feet.

Want to read more? Keep an eye out! I'll have more excerpts over the next few weeks and there will also be ARC opportunities coming soon!
While you're here, sign up to my newsletter (under "free book" in the tab above) so you don't miss out on hearing my latest news, or the chance to grab an ARC copy.