This time I bring you another scorching snippet from my forthcoming hot Regency spanking romance, Taming Lady Lydia. This little teaser is a reminder for Lydia to always thank Lord Markham when she has received a sound spanking…
“Ouch, Thomas!” I yelp, angered to have received yet more punishment.
“What did I ask you to do once we reached fifteen?” he demands from the seat above me.
I swallow, straining my mind to recall his words. It is then that I realise I have forgotten to thank him for my spanking—the idea filling me with yet more derision. “Thank you, My Lord,” I spit out the words, not really meaning them at all. I can tell by his tone that he is unimpressed with my performance.
“Do you wish to receive another five swats, Lydia?” he asks coldly.
“No!” I say quickly, wishing he would just allow me up. “I am sorry, My Lord. Thank you for punishing me!” I cannot believe the words have left my lips, but left them they have.
“Mmmm…” He sounds unconvinced, but after a moment I feel him slide my stays and petticoat back over my punished bottom, followed soon after by the weight of my skirt. “Very well. This is done—for the time being.”
I’m an arrogant, self-righteous Italian guy who only thinks through one thing… I never see the same woman twice – it’s my rule. I throw the most outrageously wicked and sexy parties for my own satisfaction and relish on women like I do my fine dining. I’m a playboy by day and a playboy by night. They call me the Italian Playboy and I love it! Only, all of that changed one night when a dark haired beauty stepped into one of my sex parties. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I had to have her. But no sooner than my eyes had met her naked body, she was gone. I had to find her.
And I wouldn’t stop until I did.
✶💕✶ EXCERPT ✶💕✶
“Okay so you want grand, extreme and flamboyant.
How about I put some ideas together and send them over?”
“Are you not bringing them to me?”
“Tut, tut,” he said, wagging his finger at me. “Correction,
you will bring them to me. I like the personal touch,” he quirked the corner of his mouth and winked.
He walked away like some goddamn prince.
“I think we should call a meeting ASAP.” I called after him.
“Absolutely, tomorrow, but remember,” he said, stood at
the other side of the room, “I’m a busy man. I don’t hang around.”
He ambled back towards me. I stood digesting he
“I can make some plans and see what you think.”
“Perfect, by the way cute ass and that blouse does
nothing for your tits.”
“I wasn’t aware I asked your opinion.”
“You didn’t, but I bet when you’re wearing the right
clothes you look scorching.” He wagged his brow.
The man clearly loved himself.
“Anyway, I need to be leaving. I have to put ideas
together, if you could send me your e-mail address I can send ideas to you.”
“Bring your ideas to me. We have already discussed this it
will give me a chance to admire you again, we could have a drink,” he cheekily
“I am simply working here on a project, not here for you
to drool over.”
“Shame, I was hoping to try and get in your knickers, if
you wear them, but looking at you, I’d say you’re wearing those big unsexy
I choked on my saliva.
“Do you hold no shame?”
“No, not really, I am addicted to pussy. Now, I want you
to bring the designs to me, no further ifs or buts…I am the one paying for you
and expect,” he in fumed me with his cologne. “Something mind-fucking-blowing.
If you catch my drift.”
“Fine, I will put some ideas together and bring them to
“You’re leaving so soon,” he said, disappointed.
“I am a busy woman, Mr. Valentino. I have another client
This #WipItUp Wednesday, I am excited to bring you a soothing post-punishment moment from my new Regency spanking romance, Taming Lady Lydia. The book will be released on September 8th, and between now and then, I’ll be bringing you some more sensual, sexy snippets to whet your appetites! 😉
“Hush, Lydia,” he says tenderly.
I sob against him, seeking his heat and strength. “I am sorry,” I whimper. “I do not usually act this way…”
He chuckles lightly, caressing the exposed side of my face with his thumb. “I suppose you are not usually punished with a crop for your behaviour?” he offers by means of an explanation.
I raise my head to see him, thinking what an awful state I must seem to be in now. “True,” I reply throatily. “But until you, no gentleman had ever corrected my behaviour at all.”
He presses his forehead into my own. “That is my responsibility now,” he whispers, “and one that I take seriously. But please know—I will never punish you in malice or anger.”
I nod my head to show my understanding. “I was not being unkind earlier,” he goes on. “I love bringing you pleasure, and I did so want to see you come apart. Your sapphire eyes are beautiful, Lydia, and they unlock a great many of your secrets.”
I sigh, recalling how sweet that pleasure had been. The memory feels almost distant now. “I did my best to keep my eyes open,” I murmur. “I think it is impossible though, to do so? Did you trick me, My Lord?”
He smiles. “Perhaps,” he admits. “Perhaps I just wanted a reason to play with my crop?” He pauses, looking down upon me with intense eyes. “I am not usually so whimsical. I fear it is the effect that you have on me, Lydia…”
“Whimsical?” A soft laugh leaves my lips for the first time in a while. “Thomas, you are the least impulsive person I have ever met!”
“Really?” he asks playfully. “Do you mean that I am cosseted and wilful like yourself, My Lady?”
I want to scowl at him, but the tender warmth we are sharing is simply too good to taint. “Perhaps,” I agree, smiling.
We stay this way for some time. He holds me, soothing me and slowly bringing me back from the brink. At some point, my lids become so heavy that I fade into dreams against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat lulling me into sleep.
Sometime later, I am roused by the sensation of being lifted. I open one eye sleepily, aware of Thomas carrying my soporific body across the corridor and into my own room. His deep, tender voice whispers into my ear. “Come, my sweet Lydia. It will not do for Lucy to find you in my room tomorrow morning.”
He guides me into my own bed, pulling the soft covers over my body, and the last thing I remember is the warmth of the kiss he places against my half-open lips.
Check out the other sizzling excerpts taking part in the #WipItUp blog hop this week:
In this edition, The Coalson family saga continues with only small clues leading to the person responsible for the downfall of the family business and the ever-increasing presence of criminal activity in their small town. They vow to wreak vengeance on those responsible, but unforeseen circumstances may put the brothers and the ones they love in jeopardy.
Brandon and Nick foil an attempt to assassinate a pretty private eye and her sweet sister. Together with Sam and his best SEAL buddies, Jax and Noah, they vow to bring the ringleader to justice and rid their town of the criminals. But nothing goes according to plan, and the men must fight Mother Nature, a murderer, and the local law enforcement. Not to mention that the new secretary, Anna Meeks, is definitely hiding something, and Brandon is determined to uncover her secrets, and the luscious body she’s trying to hide under those ridiculously conservative clothes.
Lucky Coalson’s luck has run out. He’s been accused of murder and it’s up to the Coalsons and the Morgan sisters to find the real killer. Lucky cringes to know that the very woman who threw him in the river is going to be the one to save him from a prison cell. And feisty P. I. Renee Morgan isn’t too happy herself about it because every time she’s near him, her body responds in a very unprofessional manner.
Although Nick Coalson is attracted to the fiery redhead, Rebecca Morgan, her dangerous job makes her off limits, especially as she is almost killed during their investigation. He wants quiet and submissive, not reckless and determined. But her sweet curves and sexy smile are melting his resolve and his heart. When she is kidnapped by a human trafficker, Nick will need the help of an outside source who wants Rebecca for himself. So, who will come out the victor?
Don’t forget to read the story from the beginning with Whistlin’ Dixie, and meet all brothers and the sexy, strong-willed women that win their hearts. Grab the beginning of the saga now!
It’s #sinfulSunday, and there’s no better time to bring you the gorgeous new cover for my long-awaited Regency spanking romance… I am also thrilled to finally reveal its title as Taming Lady Lydia!
So… ta da! Here it is!
Isn’t it just… fabulous?! 🙂
Thanks to Korey, and the awesome team at Stormy Night Publications for creating this gem, and helping me to make this Regency project a reality. The release date is set for September 8th, and copies have already been sent to my advanced review readers, so things are shaping up nicely…
The official blurb is still being finalised, but here’s the synopsis to whet your appetite.
When her father, Earl Franklin dies unexpectedly, eighteen-year-old Lady Lydia is sent to live with her guardian, the unknown and enigmatic Lord Thomas Markham. Initially eager to leave her new home, Lydia is indignant at her guardian’s firm and protective behaviour, but everything changes that first night when she accidentally discovers something shocking about life at Markham Hall…
Now, in spite of his rules and expectations, the young and indulged Lydia finds herself inexplicably drawn to her guardian. Lord Markham it seems, is a gentleman who will finally provide the firm hand she has always needed, and Lydia begins to crave his discipline, desiring him to take her over his knee and deliver a sound spanking.
With their affections for one another growing, Thomas and Lydia seem set for a bright future if only events would stop conspiring to tarnish their happiness. Can their burgeoning romance survive the scrutiny of Thomas’ mother, the Countess, and the interference of their peers? And can Lydia learn to live by Her Lordship’s governance, and find the happily ever after they so desire?
Brace yourselves, Lord Thomas Markham is waiting…
He looks at me, his face burning with intent. “Know this Lydia,” he says in an even tone. “I have grown immensely fond of you these last days. I will care for you, look after your needs, and be here for you, but whenever you choose to overstep the line, I will punish you.”
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This time around at the Replay resort, it’s World War I weekend, and vocalist Lara Eastman is one of the entertainers hired to help bring the past to life. The offer comes at a time when she’s worried about how to pay her bills. She accepts the job but declines getting vetted to play—something that she quickly regrets when she meets not one but two very attractive—and very Dominant—pilots.
Alexander Boulton is the resort owner’s cousin. This weekend, the handsome Brit is flying a Sopwith Camel against his rival Dmitry Chezhekov, a Russian-born pilot who portrays a German flying ace. On the ground, the red-haired singer comes under both men’s sights.
Lara meets Alex first, but she’s equally attracted to Dmitry. She rarely hooks up at events, but Alex and Dmitry will prove the exception to her rules. The truth is, she wants them both. Unwilling to settle for one when she can have it all, Lara proposes a threesome.
The men are fierce competitors. Each is determined to bring her the ultimate in pleasure. Only one thing is certain. If they want her, they’ll have to learn to share.
Written for ages 18+.
Ready to dive into Replay 7? Check out this tempting little teaser…
An air raid signal sounded. German soldiers grabbed their guns and took their places behind the sandbag barriers. The planes came in low, strafing the field. Bursts of blank rounds sounded from the German rifles. Puffs of dirt flew into the air from charges that had been laid earlier. The way that they detonated, it looked like bullets from the planes were hitting the ground.
Meanwhile, the German pilots were scrambling, climbing in their fighters, strapping on goggles, and preparing to start their engines. Five ground crew members each took hold of a propeller and gave it a spin. The radial engines roared to life. Freed of their wheel chocks, the planes headed for the runway.
Dmitry was the last to take off, but his Fokker’s superb climbing ability allowed him to quickly join the others. They flew only far enough to turn and meet the British head on.
From her vantage point, Dmitry and Alex’s planes seemed to be on a collision course. She held her breath and fisted her gloved hands, watching, hoping, trusting that nothing went wrong. At the last minute, the Sopwith Camel pulled up, barely missing the Fokker.
More passes were made. Planes were “disabled.” Billowing trails of blue smoke, the downed German planes landed here. The “crippled” British planes returned to their imaginary base.
Finally, only three were left. Dmitry, Alex, and another British pilot engaged in a stunning display of aerial combat, with all the climbs, rolls, and maneuvers that you’d expect in a big-budget motion picture. Eventually, Dmitry simulated being shot, leaving a trail of smoke as he landed. The two British planes flew off, victorious after their successful raid.
Cheers broke out from the crowd. When the applause had quieted, Sir Piers addressed the spectators who’d come out for the morning battle.
“Thank you,” he said. “What an amazing display! The pilots shall all return shortly and will be joining us. Lunch will be served at eleven thirty, to our reenactors, patrons, staff members, and guests. The next reenactment, scheduled this afternoon at one, will be a German attack on a French airfield. The final battle today at five pm will be a different version of this scenario. Meanwhile, the bar will soon be open in the casino tent, where games of chance, music, and conversation may be found for those who wish to stay the day.”
While they had been watching the combat demonstration, a crew of workers had erected yet another tent, yellow striped with two massive center posts and a roof that would cover a one-ring circus. She guessed that tables, chairs, and equipment were being carried in through a back opening. The casino’s front door flaps were closed.
“I’m afraid that it is off limits to you, my dear,” Sir Piers said, “where you are not vetted. Pity, but rules are rules where scenes are concerned.”
“I understand,” she assured him. “But the day is lovely. You’ve provided food, and shelter from the sun. A place to sit and things to see. I’m hoping to get a closer look at the planes, if they’ll let me.”
“I’m certain that can be arranged.” He lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I know people.”
Lara laughed. “I’m sure that you do. Hopefully, he’ll be back soon.”
Sir Piers strained his ear, listening. “I do believe that I hear a familiar stutter headed this way. Alex should be here shortly. I must leave soon to check on the situation at home. With luck, I will not return alone. We shall see.”
The German soldiers were already headed for the food tent. The ground crews and pilots followed. Lara sat in one of four folding chairs at a small round table in a shady corner of the space. With tea to drink and a scone to nibble on, she settled in to people watch. It always fascinated her when costumed civilians and military reenactors intermingled. And she loved listening to the reenactors who regaled each other with stories. It truly was like stepping back in time.
Being a single female, sitting alone and therefore perceived as available, she halfway expected to be approached by the men, and possibly some of the women. Introducing herself as a non-vetted performer worked like a charm. Most of these people were here to play.
The only one who seemed to not mind that she couldn’t was Dmitry. But then, she suspected that he looked upon her as a special challenge. He took his time coming over, accepting accolades from the other reenactors and chatting with a few other guests. Helping himself to a plate of late breakfast and a cup of coffee, he headed straight for her.
“I sit here, da?”
Lara managed to not smile. “If that’s a question—May yousit here?—the answer is yes. Yes, you may sit with me.”
Dmitry took the chair to her right. His plate was heavy on protein and lower on carbs. He spiked his coffee with a dash of whatever he was carrying in an antique silver flask. Slipping it back inside his brown leather aviator’s jacket, he flashed an unrepentant grin. “A touch,” he said. “Safe to fly later. Safe to sit now. Tonight, I listen to you. When done, maybe you listen to me. We see.”
Alex’s voice dashed the flame that Dmitry’s smoldering delivery had ignited inside her, but only for a moment. Alex and Dmitry were rivals in the air, but were they willing to share? She didn’t want to choose between them. She wanted them both, if only for the weekend.
Which brought her to all of the obstacles that must be overcome. She wasn’t vetted. If the men could be talked into a threesome, it would be vanilla sex in Dmitry’s room at the resort, quiet kink at her bed and breakfast, or permission to use the St. Leger’s Dungeon for a full-blown session of kinky f**kery.
She knew what she wanted.
Lara wanted it all.
“Alex,” Lara chirped, hoping that she managed to sound relatively innocent. So many naughty thoughts were in her head right now, her mind was doing a spin that would have earned her a nine point five at the Winter Olympics. “Won’t you join us?”
Dmitry bristled, but she ignored it. Better to find out now if there was hope for both men tonight. They would have to agree on a number of things—first and foremost, could they play with her together, or would she need to keep them apart?
Alex looked at his plate, at Dmitry, at her. “I believe that I shall. Thank you.” He took the chair to her left, sandwiching her between them.
Alex’s plate was a balance of protein and carbs. He and Dmitry had both taken sausage links and scrambled eggs, but Alex had added hash browns, a biscuit with butter and jelly, and several pieces of fresh fruit. Dmitry had opted for half a biscuit smothered in sausage gravy and no potatoes.
Dmitry seemed to be enjoying the Russian equivalent of Irish coffee. Alex drank milk and nodded approvingly at her tea.
“So, tell me,” she said, looking at Alex. “This morning’s combat. From down here, it looked like you two were going to take each other out. When you’re sharing airspace, how close do you get before you pull away?”
He sliced an apologetic glance at Dmitry. “Today, closer than I like. The controls were slow to respond. I’ll check it out before I take her up again.”
Lara took a breath and looked at Dmitry, too. “You didn’t try to avoid him. No evasive action that I saw, anyway.””
Dmitry shrugged as if it were no big deal. “He was close. I wait. He move.”
“Well,” she said, glancing at each man, connecting them with her gaze, “I’ve seen you share airspace. I was wondering if—hoping that?—I might tempt you to share more. Just so you know, I’m not a trained submissive. I’ve never done anything much beyond having my wrists tied, wearing a blindfold, and getting spanked. Pretty vanilla, I know. But I’m willing, if you are. Except that not being vetted limits us to what we can do on Replay property. I’m going to leave you two to figure it out. Come tonight and hear me sing. After the concert, you can tell me what you want to do.”
She left them sitting, speechless. It was a temporary state, she was certain. While she went to look at the airplanes, they were probably stabbing at their breakfasts and dueling with each other for supremacy.
There can be only one…
Could two Doms be in control? She thought so. She hoped so. One thing was certain. If they wanted her, they’d have to learn to share.