A Timeless Woman is Stevie's new release and it sounds great!
Blurb: Despite her age, Marjorie Whitcomb is resigned to spinsterhood. One disastrous marriage has convinced her that the kind of man she wants does not exist. He is simply a figment of her imagination... and her fantasies.
Colton Mitchell has had Margie in his peripheral vision for two years. He always considered her 'quirky', with her vintage clothes and quiet manner. He never saw the real woman until he had to drive her home one night. From her vintage turquoise kitchen to her garter belt and stockings, he then realizes that she is a young woman with very old-fashioned ideas about love and marriage. And that's the very moment in which he decides that she isn't quirky, she is perfect!
But how close is Colton to Marjorie's idea of the perfect man?
Warning: This book contains elements of domestic discipline, medical play and anal play. If any of these offend you, please do not purchase.
"Mr. Mitchell, I find your question quite offensive," she said crisply as she wiggled uncomfortably on her chair.
"In what way? Aren't we having a discussion about the benefits and drawbacks of that type of lifestyle? I was just wondering if you fully appreciate the disadvantages to women while living the way of life you so admire. Men definitely had the upper hand, so to speak."
"I guess I haven't thought that much about it?" she whispered, dropping her head.
"You're a liar, Miss Whitcomb," he insisted kindly.
"I said you're lying."
"How dare you!" she gasped, rising to her feet. "You don't even know me."
"Sit down, Miss Whitcomb," he ordered, grinning when she automatically obeyed. "On the contrary, I know a great deal about you. Any man with half a brain and an eye for detail could have figured you out if they took the time. You live in a virtual time capsule. You dress modestly, almost matronly if you will, but underneath that sedate dress you wear lace trimmed slips, stockings and garters. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if you had on a corset."
"Stop, please," she cried, her face crimson.
"Your manners are usually impeccable, or so I thought until tonight when I realized there is quite a bit of spunk under that ladylike exterior. You don't date, at least not as far as I'm aware, because you think there's no one out there who would understand your needs, and they are complicated. At least they would be for the average man."
"Mr. Mitchell, please leave," she said coldly.
"Not quite yet, Miss Whitcomb. As I was saying, I feel I know you quite well. I would bet money if I were to go upstairs to you room, I would find dusting powder on your vanity, baby doll pajamas in your drawer and most likely an old fashioned red hot water bottle, complete with attachments, hanging on the back of your bathroom door.
"Oh my God, get out of here," she yelled, slapping her hand on the table.
"Why not," she demanded. "You've made your point. I'm a freak, a relic as far as you're concerned."
"Miss Whitcomb, I find you enchanting," he said smiling warmly.
Stevie MacFarlane is a best-selling author of romantic spanking novels. She lives in upstate New York with her husband of many years. Visit Stevie’s Amazon Authors Page and follow her. You’ll be notified when new books come out. You can also sign up for her newsletter on her blog.
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