Taken as Theirs by Kryssie Fortune

In this week’s NeverEnding Blog Tour, Kryssie Fortune has a new release!

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As a breeder–one of the few fertile women left in a ruined, plague-ravaged world–Cassie would fetch a handsome price at auction, and selling her to the highest bidder was exactly what her captors had in mind… until two fearsome beasts decided to take her for themselves.

Eli and Dane have chosen Cassie for their mate, and when she makes a foolish attempt at escape she quickly ends up tearfully promising obedience as her bare bottom is soundly and shamefully punished. Her body’s response to their stern dominance cannot be denied, however, and it isn’t long before she is screaming out her intense, helpless pleasure as she is roughly and thoroughly claimed. But will Eli and Dane’s pack accept a human girl or will Cassie be an outsider forever?

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and read this sizzling excerpt

Eli smirked as he leaned against the nearest boulder. Beside him, Dane grinned like a schoolboy. Once he’d shoved his hair from his face, Eli turned to Cassie. “You owe us a forfeit. Lie on the blanket and make yourself come.”

They both growled when she shook her head and looked around for her clothes. “No way. Never. I can’t do that, not with you watching.”

Dane’s gaze smoldered with heat. “We won, and you owe us.”

Aware of Dane’s joy, Eli felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Around Cassie, his brother seemed freer and wilder, more the way he’d been before the incident scarred his face. If Cassie hadn’t already claimed his heart, he’d love her for making Dane smile. She was the perfect mate for them, and come the next full moon, they’d claim her as theirs. They just needed to bring their pack mates home. That and prepare her for public nudity and ropes.

“Do all humans welch on their bets?” he teased.

Cassie shook her head. “I’m embarrassed. Can’t I pay my forfeit another way?”

Face faux stern, eyes shining, Eli pulled himself erect. “Lie on the blanket. Let us see you finger your beautiful nipples until they bead. I want to see their red tips hard and pointy.”

Chewing at her lower lip, she sank onto the blanket. Eli’s eyes shone in excitement. Even Dane looked expectant and happy as he commanded, “Lie back and pluck at your nipples. Tease them until they turn hard.”

Slowly, hesitantly, she cupped her breasts. The delighted smile on his brother’s face made Eli want to turn cartwheels and cheer. Unaware of Eli’s scrutiny, Dane’s gaze never left her face.

“Pinch your nipples,” Dane ordered.

Closing her eyes, she stroked and pinched them as he’d demanded. Her nipples hardened instantly.

Eli sounded hoarse when he commanded, “I want you looking at us when you come. Open your eyes.”

Her cheeks turned scarlet, but she did as he’d said.

“Good girl,” Eli praised. “Is your sweet cunny wet yet? Spread your legs and let me see your cum smearing your thighs. It’s thick and creamy, a delicious treat that spills out of your pussy.”

About Kryssie Fortune

Kryssie lives by the beach and loses track of time when she writes. Her days are full of dashing regency rakes, former soldiers so handsome they make her drool, and the sexiest werewolves ever. The odd vampire makes it in there too, but when he does, he’s drop dead gorgeous.

Her pet hates are unhappy endings and cliff hangers. She guarantees you won’t find either in her books. Her books sizzle with sensual heat, but story always comes before sex. Even when part of a series, her books can be read as stand-alone romance. 

Kryssie Fortune Social Media

Website      http://kryssiefortune.wixsite.com/kryssie
Blog            http://kryssiefortune.blogspot.co.uk/
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Amazon Author Page  http://amzn.to/2hA0ZVO

 

Delia learns there are rewards too in this #SatSpanks excerpt

It’s Saturday, so you know what time it is. Take a peek at this #SatSpanks excerpt and grab Duty Bound!

2

She collapsed from Medlock’s lap, crawling towards Turner instinctively. Cardinal Turner met the crying women with open arms, scooping her up against his body, and holding her there. Solace. That was what she needed now, and that was all he offered. For the longest time there was silence, save for the throaty sobs which escaped Delia’s mouth from time to time, but after a while, even those began to calm.

Medlock and Brogan roused, shifting from their places and taking up new locations as they waited to see what would happen. How would Delia be feeling when her head cleared? Would she be receptive to the new ideas the three of them had in mind now that her daily penance had been observed? But they knew better than to force things. Serving God had taught them patience, and they waited for the little lamb to stir.

After a while, her face lifted from its place against Turner’s vestments, the scarlet of his robes wet from her tears. She blinked down at the wet patch she’d created, blushing lightly in acknowledgement.

“I’m sorry, Cardinal.” Her words were little more than a murmur.

“No more apologies today,” he told her softly. As he spoke, his right arm shifted from its place around her and meandered to her hot, tear-stained face. Turner brushed away the dark hair sticking to the side of her face, the soft caress capturing her attention immediately.

“Your absolution is close, Delia. Just a few more days and we feel sure you’ll have earned God’s forgiveness.” Her brows knitted at his words, and the hand at her face travelled lightly to her right cheek, Turner’s thumb stroking the flesh there tenderly.

“A few more days?” she croaked. “But, Cardinal, I don’t know how much more I can bear.” Delia’s hand slipped reflexively to her punished backside as if to reinforce the point.

“I know,” Turner replied. “You will be sore, but that is the point. A punishment which does not sting will not change your future behaviour. But you have done so well already. We know that you will bear it, Delia, and then your sins will be cast aside.” She sighed, the sound loud in the silence of the room.

“I hadn’t expected this to be so…” she hesitated, searching for the right word. “Tough.” Turner smiled.

“Nothing good comes without effort, little lady.” He drew her face closer towards him, and to his relief, she didn’t offer any resistance as his large fingers guided her forward. “There shouldn’t only be effort though.” Turner’s words were a low, sensual whisper, vibrating over her body. Delia’s eyes widened, and despite her obvious discomfort, she shifted on his lap.

“No?” she asked, biting her lower lip. “What else should there be, Cardinal?” Turner’s loins stirred at her question, and he noticed how large her pupils had become. If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn the little lamb was open to his advances.

“Reward,” he told her. “A reward for all your efforts. God is merciful, remember?”


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Is it bad when Delia doesn’t even notice the spanks stop? Find out in this #SatSpanks

Check out how Delia reacts in this #SatSpanks edition, an exclusive excerpt from Duty Bound. Grab this hot anthology fast to find out what happens!

***

Delia’s breath caught in her throat, her anticipation building. The room was filled with a new energy, which seemed to pulse around her. Her belly knotted with anxious excitement. Why was he making her wait? This was too…
She never got to conclude that thought. In a flash, Turner’s hand had vanished from her body, and he had brought his palm crashing back down against her vulnerable arse. Delia yelped out of instinct, not because the swat was painful, but just because there had been one. He had finally spanked her, and despite her embarrassment and discomfort, she was glad of it.
“We will only use my palm.” Turner’s voice was like a soft, insistent thrum, the sound vibrating over her body to find her ears. “And for now, you may stay clothed, Delia. This is just a warm-up.”
There was a definite gasp at that, but he had already landed the second swat, and this was harder than before. A warm-up? Is that what he’d said? And what was that about clothing? Surely, he couldn’t think to strip her before she was spanked? That ignominy seemed too great for anyone to bear. Turner struck her upturned behind again, following with three fresh swats, all in fast succession. With each new spank, the sting intensified. She wasn’t sure if Turner was intentionally landing them harder, or if it was the cumulative effect of receiving one after the other, but by the time Delia had counted the tenth in her head, she could absolutely feel the weight of each impact.
As the cardinal settled into some sort of rhythm, the onslaught came harder and faster, until Delia reached a point where each new strike began to take her breath away. She squirmed over his lap as the swats rained down, instinctively reaching behind her and trying to protect her punished behind. His hand paused at once, one of those large palms catching her smaller wrist and holding it in place as Turner chastised her.
“No, thank you, young lady.” This time his voice was stern, reminding her of the way her father had once spoken to her before his untimely demise. “You shall not interfere with God’s work. You have confessed your sins, and come here for forgiveness. Now, you must endure your penance.”
“But, Cardinal!” she gasped. “Please.”
The hand which had trapped her wrist pulled it away from the curves of her behind, and drew it back towards her shoulders. Delia twisted awkwardly over his robes. The position wasn’t hurting her, but it was certainly less comfortable, and she instantly disliked the weight of his free arm against her back. As soon as her bottom was cleared of her self-imposed obstruction, his palm resumed, peppering her arse with cruel, loud swats which seemed to fill up the office like rolls of thunder. And still Delia resisted. It was like she couldn’t stop, as though she had temporarily lost control of her own body. The more he spanked her, the more her body rolled and countered him, her bottom searching for a way out of its penance. Yet the cardinal’s will was strong, perhaps even stronger than her own, and her wilful display did nothing to quell his ambition. The arm at her back held her steady, while his other hand worked relentlessly, spanking her over and over again.
The loss of control was maddening, but in her mind, the fight was not futile. Delia imagined herself, as Turner might see her, draped over his vestment; prone and exposed, and she despised the mental image. She hated how weak she was, and how vulnerable she felt. She resented the power these men held over her. Or at least, that’s what she told herself as she writhed over his body, that’s how she convinced herself that she wasn’t enjoying the surrender. But it wasn’t true, and if Cardinal Turner was right about God, then He would certainly know the deceit. The truth was it did hurt, and it was uncomfortable, and yet for all her protestations, Delia was secretly beginning to revel in it. The whole scenario was uniquely compelling. For the first time, she was being held to account for her actions, and it was all happening like this; she was being spanked by the gorgeous cardinal in the red robes with the mesmerising blue eyes.
As the realisation dawned over her, the fight left Delia’s body in an instant. She felt the miscellaneous energy rush from her body, and she slumped forward, panting as she finally began to understand. This was all part of the punishment. First the anticipation, then the resistance, and now, the resignation. And resigned she was, her eyes closing as she accepted the brunt of Turner’s palm as it punished her bottom over and over. At that moment of concession, her body relaxed, despite the wall of pain which was being built at her behind. At that moment, her mind was quiet, and as she slipped away from conscious thought, Delia realised it was perhaps the first time her head had ever been free. She no longer had to think. She no longer had to worry about what to wear, or do, or say. She no longer had control. She’d given that up to Turner, or to God, or whoever the hell was orchestrating this bizarre ritual, but whoever it was, Delia felt sure they could keep it. This quiet freedom was good. Better than anything she could have imagined, maybe even better than the simmering thrum of arousal which kept its insistent throb between her legs.
“Good girl, Delia,” crooned Turner from above her head. “There’s our good girl, brothers. She is finally capitulating, and submitting to the will of God.”
“Praise be His name,” murmured Cardinal Medlock from beyond her head.
The sound of their voices stirred her from the peculiar tranquillity Delia had found in the punishment, and she wished at once that she could return to its warm folds. But now another urge was coming to fore. The weight of sensation at her core was building, centring her, making her focus only the weight of the cardinal’s palm as it struck her jeans. She imagined the impact, envisioning the reverberations as they spread outwards, down towards her legs. Down between her thighs.
A small moan escaped her lips, and reflexively she raised her free hand to cover her lips at the sound. Delia swore she had not consciously meant to make it, but then she remembered, nothing about this act was conscious anymore. She’d had control at the start, when she consented to the penance, but since then; since she found herself draped over Turner’s vestments, Delia had none. There was no say over the timing or intensity of each swat, no ability to protect herself, and now, apparently, there was no control over her own body’s responses. A hot blush engulfed her face as she realised what she’d done, and yet it was already too late. She’d moaned gutturally over the Cardinal’s lap, and they must have heard her. At least Turner must have caught the sound, and probably Medlock and Brogan, too.
Oh, God…
It was then that she registered the change. The spanking had halted, and in her embarrassed state of mind, Delia hadn’t even noticed.


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Happy release day to me, Duty Bound is live!

Duty Bound is now Live and ready to steam up your kindle!

Duty Bound (Sins)

When their uniforms come off…

Bossy, dedicated, overprotective, super complicated. A woman needs a man like that in her life like she needs a temporal lobe headache, right? Think again, because when the uniforms come off and the temperature skyrockets, it’s time to forget Hell and take a trip straight to Heaven.

How about multiplying that by three, four, or more? You get the picture? This set of panty-melting reverse harem stories will have you gasping, panting, squirming and sweating. Read late into the night with these steamy tales featuring priests, military men, S.W.A.T. officers, gardeners, waiters, and more.

For a limited time only, grab your own harem of hot men who are determined to be the best of the best, especially when it comes to adoring their woman.

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The three of them made their way through the narrow halls, Delia trapped between the leading figure of Brogan and the even taller Cardinal Turner, who seemed to tower over her. As they walked, Turner insisted on asking her a variety of inane questions, none of which had anything to do with the reasons she was actually here, or what in the hell they were planning to do with her.

Nervous butterflies stretched their wings as her mind considered what the options could be. Her uncle had been disappointed at her behaviour—angry even—but surely, he wouldn’t leave her in the care of men who would hurt her? And anyway, she reassured herself as Turner chatted on, there were laws against that. They couldn’t touch her, but they could intimidate, and if she was honest, they already had.

It was true, no overt threats had been made, but still there was something. Something imperceptible, something in the air here like a lingering scent. Delia could sense it instinctively, although she couldn’t give the sensation a name. The worst of it was though, it wasn’t just trepidation that the atmosphere produced in her tightly-wound body, it was also arousal. Delia hadn’t had that much experience with boys her own age. Uncle Nicholas had always made that prospect practically impossible, but she had dated a couple, breaking out of the house after hours when her aunt and uncle had believed she was sleeping.

Neither Timmy Blore, nor Steve Furst had been much to talk about. They had really just been fumbles in the dark, but the experiences had taught her one thing; she enjoyed a man taking control. And every time Brogan and Turner had stood up to her today, Delia had felt the tension in her core, and that hot, slick arousal which had collected at the apex of her thighs. The thought of whatever was about to transpire in Turner’s office made her feel giddy, though she realised that was stupid. Whatever was on the cards for her, these men were priests. They didn’t see her that way. No doubt she was little better than a naughty school-girl to them, although she’d been in college now for nearly three years.

“And you’re at college, Delia,” Turner asked. “Is that right?”

His question cut through her internal monologue, and she nodded, trying to compose herself before she answered the hot-looking priest with the astonishing blue eyes. He was older than Father Brogan, but every inch as tempting.

Stop it, she chastised herself. Stop thinking that way. This is the sort of shit that landed you in trouble in the first place. If you hadn’t been trying to impress Steve, then you’d never have stolen the damn cigarettes in the first place.

“Yes, Cardinal,” she replied, unable to meet his piercing gaze as it drilled into her. His eyes were like the colour of a tropical ocean, and were quite unlike anything Delia had ever seen before. “I had been thinking of going on to university.”

“So, you’re a bright young woman,” he responded, flashing her an absolutely devastating smile. “Pray tell, why it has taken you so long to complete your college course?” Delia grimaced. Perfect, now she had to admit yet more misdemeanours.

“I’ve had to retake one of the years,” she admitted, lowering her gaze to the floor.

“Why?” Turner asked in a knowing tone which made her wonder if he didn’t have the
answer from her uncle already.

“I didn’t take my studies seriously at first,” she conceded, the words falling from her
in one, long rush. “I was distracted.”

Delia lifted her chin, catching Turner’s haunting gaze still fixed on her.

“I see,” he replied. “Perhaps you have been in need of our guidance for a while,
Delia?”

She nodded, uncertain what she should say. She still didn’t want to be here, but there
was something disturbingly alluring about being around these men. If she was forced to endure this social isolation, then at least she could enjoy their company and easy-on-the-eye aesthetics.

“We’ll do our best to help you,” the cardinal assured her, “but you have to promise me one thing, Delia.”

The sound of her name on his lips made her gulp. It was like a reflex. “What’s that, Cardinal Turner?”

“You have to promise to be my good girl, Delia,” he told her in what sounded like a deliberately seductive tone. “No running, no fighting and no more speaking out of line. You will take your punishment, and then you’ll receive atonement.”

Turner’s words washed over her like a wave, sending her thoughts scattering.
Punishment? Had he just said punishment? Sure, Uncle Nicholas had inferred there would be consequences; he’d said that was what she needed, but what the fuck did that mean? She was a grown woman, for God’s sake! What were they going to do to her? Throw her in the dungeon? A shiver ran down her spine at the prospect, its resonance connecting with her sex in the most delicious way. Delia didn’t know what was wrong with her, but somehow the idea sounded magnificent.

“Delia?” Those blue eyes were boring into her again. “Delia, can you do that? Can you be my good girl?”

She turned her head to see Turner’s perfect gaze again. Fuck. How can you resist temptation like that, she wondered? He might be dressed like a priest, but she bet under that robe was all the equipment she wanted.

“Yes, Cardinal.” Oh God, she was practically panting now. What must he think of her? “I can try.”

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Submitting to the Rancher by BJ Wane

This week in the Never Ending Blog Tour, BJ Wane is celebrating their newest release!

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One look into his intent, cobalt gaze and her heated response made her forget her troubles.

Sydney Greenbriar finds more than she bargained for when she gets lost on her way to report for a new job and finds herself at a BDSM club. Peering in through the window, her attention, and libido are both snagged by one man delivering some old-fashioned discipline to a young blonde. After he runs her off, both are surprised to discover she is the new cook he’d hired for his ranch.

Caden MacGregor wanted to turn away the cheeky woman he’d caught spying on his club without remorse, but desperation for a cook forced his hand. Sydney proved to be a definite asset to his employees, and a royal pain in his butt. Somehow, her penchant for getting lost and landing in trouble, along with her determination to return to the club as a guest, soon slid past his resistance.

It took a threat to Sydney and unearthing the truth about what made her flee her home in Missouri to force them to admit their feelings and get her to stay as more than his cook.

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The cheeky grin Sydney flipped Caden shouldn’t have surprised him, or her easy compliance when she turned her head back down and waited for his retribution. Had she kicked and screamed for him to let her go, he would’ve done so, but when had the girl reacted as he thought she should? Knowing it was a mistake and may very well end up crossing a line he couldn’t cross back over, he swatted her right buttock, the red imprint he left behind showing with vivid brightness against her lily-white skin. The terror that sent him speeding down to the corral wouldn’t abate, his mind still reeling from all the injuries she could’ve sustained with that foolhardy stunt. He spanked her other cheek and enjoyed the bounce of the soft globe and her shifting hips way too much. “Had enough?” he asked, rubbing his hand over the warm, smooth flesh.
“Would you stop if we were at The Barn and I was your sub?” she returned with a slight catch in her voice.
“Hell, no.” He refused to lie even if doing so would be in his best interest.
“Then pretend I am and don’t stop… please.”
He sighed, her whispered plea sealing both their fate. “Remember, I warned you to be careful about what you ask for.” Caden proceeded to give her what she thought she wanted ever since he’d caught her spying and caved to what he’d been itching to do.
With a volley of sharp smacks, he peppered Sydney’s ass until the pink tinge turned a deep red, her warm skin grew hot and her quiet mewls erupted into louder cries. She shifted with a moan when he stopped to rub the abused mounds. After soothing the sting, he gave her time to adjust to the soreness by palming the plump curve of one crimson cheek. She had a perfect shaped ass with soft, malleable buttocks that had clenched with each spank then softened as she adjusted to the pain. Then she shifted again, lifting into his hand, and he barely heard another whispered entreaty of ‘please’ that drew his eyes to her glistening seam. “You continue to surprise me, darlin’.”
Sydney whipped her face around, shaking her hair out of her drenched eyes. “Does that mean…”
Caden squeezed her buttock and drew a yelp from her by delivering a final, blistering swat. “You’re new to this and don’t realize how sore you’ll be. Sit up.” Her face mirrored the color of her ass, but it was the blatant need reflected in her dilated eyes that tempted him to change the tone of this lesson and reward her, and that would not do. His actions were meant as a deterrent, not a pleasurable interlude. “Next time you disobey a rule, you’ll get a taste of my belt.” Ignoring the desire to sink his fingers between those enticing, plump, damp folds, he stood her up and pulled up her panties and jeans. Standing, he lowered his Stetson and headed to the door, saying without looking back, “I have work to do.”
Connor stood waiting for him by the corral when he stepped outside, a knowing grin playing around his mouth as he handed Caden the reins to his steed. “Not a word, got it?” Caden snapped in warning.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, brother.”

submitting to the rancher - bj teaser1

Learn more about BJ Wane

I live in the Midwest with my husband and our dog, a lovable Great Pyrenees/Standard Poodle.  I love dogs, enjoy spending time with my daughter, babysitting dogs and kids, reading and working puzzles.  We have traveled extensively throughout the states, Canada and just once overseas, but I now prefer being a homebody.  I worked for a while writing articles for a local magazine but soon found my interest in writing for myself peaking.  My first book was strictly spanking erotica, but I slowly evolved to writing erotic spanking romance with a touch of suspense.  My favorite genre to read is suspense.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bj.wane
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/BJWaneAuthor
Blog: http://bjwane.blogspot.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/bj_wane
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3420232
Email: bjwane@cox.net


 

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It’s Delia’s turn with the Cardinal in this #SatSpanks excerpt

Here’s an exclusive little snippet for you from the upcoming Duty Bound anthology for you to enjoy in this #SatSpanks. Take a peek at Sins of the Flesh

***

He was acting on instinct as his arms snaked to Delia’s small waist, and he pulled her reddened behind towards his thigh. She yelped beautifully, the sound helping to harden his already swollen cock as it strained for freedom inside his vestment. He lowered his face to her nape, grazing his lips over the tempting flesh there. In Turner’s experience, a woman’s neck was the dividing line between the carnal needs of her body, and the moral instruction of her mind. He and his holy brothers had spent the last few days trying to mould and command that mind. They wanted to ensure that never again would little Delia be tempted to take what did not belong to her, and that never again would she speak rudely to her family. He believed that, on balance, they were close to achieving that goal. Now would come the passion they had sought from the beginning, and by her own admission, Delia had admitted to also fantasising about the possibility of such a liaison.
Delia twisted, trying to turn to meet his goading lips, but his arms tightened around her body.
“I want to make sure we understand each other,” he purred into her right ear. “I will more than happily lead this relationship, but the connection will not be solely ours. It will also involve my holy peers, Cardinal Medlock and Father Brogan.”
Turner paused, and for the first time he relaxed his grip on Delia, permitting her to spin and face him. “Do you understand?” he asked her. He wanted their intentions to be clear. There could be no confusion about what would happen next.
She smiled up at him, making him hungrier for her flesh that he had ever known. Delia was the very picture of innocence, there was no doubt about that, but she didn’t fool him. Turner had already heard her confessions, and he had already turned her over his lap. He knew better… they all did. Delia was not innocent. She was a naughty little imp, and she’d deserved all the rounds of punishment she’d been made to endure, as well as the penance that was still yet to come. And yet, for all of that, she was closer to absolution than ever before, and now it was his absolute pleasure, to bring her even closer to the heavens.
“I understand,” she murmured, her gaze sliding from his face to acknowledge both Medlock, and Brogan behind him. “But I have never…” she paused, evidently struggling to find the right words.
“What, Delia?” he teased, capturing her dainty chin between his thumb and forefinger. “What have you never?”
Of course, he already knew the answer, but hearing the words from her sweet lips was going to be intoxicating.
Delia swallowed, her face burning an even deeper shade of crimson. “There has only ever been one man, Cardinal,” she conceded again. “I do not know if I can cope with all of you.”


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His Land, His Law by Libby Campbell

This week in the Never Ending Blog Tour, we have Libby Campbell and her new release His Land, His Lair.

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Since she inherited her parents’ home, Cara Eckford has used walks in the nearby woods as inspiration for her art, so she is shocked and upset upon finding that ‘No Trespassing’ signs have recently been put up on the property. But when she angrily confronts the land’s new owner, the infuriatingly sexy Luke McCrae, she merely earns herself a stern scolding and a sound spanking.
Despite her irritation, Luke’s bold dominance leaves Cara’s heart racing and her panties soaked. He soon proves more than ready to tame her fiery temper with his belt applied to her bare bottom, but even with tears in her eyes and her backside on fire Cara’s need for Luke cannot be denied, and when he takes her in his arms his masterful lovemaking satisfies her deeply.
Cara’s newfound romance with Luke grows stronger and more passionate with each passing day, but when conflict over his plans for her beloved forest threatens to tear them apart, can she make use of her powerful connection to both of their ancestors to convince him to change his mind?

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Everything that was good and right in Cara’s world was because of the serenity on this small corner of Salt Spring Island. Land that should have been hers, lost through a tragedy one hundred years ago, was slipping through her family hands again.

“Don’t talk to me like that, please.” Luke’s voice low and authoritative.

“I’ll talk to you any way I fucking well please.”

He was six inches taller than her and at least forty pounds heavier. Cara didn’t care. She was angry at the No Trespassing signs. She was angry at the news that he wouldn’t sell to her. When he had the nerve to tell her not to swear, her temper detonated. Sparks of silvery hot rage popped in her peripheral vision.

She looked over his shoulder and gasped, as though something was behind him. When he turned to see what it was, she braced herself in horse stance, clenched her hand into a fist, and drove a hard punch into his gut. It was like pounding concrete.

“Ah, you’re a scrapper, are you?” He recoiled sharply before closing the gap between them and wrapping an arm around her waist. The cedar and smoke scent of him filled her head as he planted one foot on a large boulder and deftly flipped her over his knee. “You need to learn some manners,” he said, lifting the hem of her skirt.

Cool air breezed across the top of Cara’s thighs as the blood rushed to her head. Her long hair hung down, coiling in the dried arbutus leaves beneath her.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she shrieked with outrage, kicking her legs and flailing her arms. He pinned her to his left knee, trapping her kicking legs under his muscular right thigh.

“Don’t you dare touch me!” she said, trying to right herself.

“You mean like this?” He smacked her panty-clad bottom hard. “Or this?” His hand fell on the top of her thighs. His hands felt as big as dinner plates and hard as wood. One smack followed another. When she reached back and swatted against the blows, he caught her wrists together and pinned them in the small of her back.

Cara’s breath whooshed out of her lungs at the sensation of being bent to his will. She forced herself to start breathing again as he smacked her bottom rhythmically and unrelentingly.

“Stop it!” she demanded, between swats. Luke ignored her. She barely caught her breath after one slap, when another followed. Conflicting sensations of desire and resentment churned as her bottom started to sting.

She was strong, but he was much stronger. She twisted and writhed but never enough to break away. After what felt like an eternity of spanking, the only thing registering on her consciousness was his hard hand raining down on her buttocks and thighs. Time, as she knew it, stopped.

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Libby Campbell in her own words:

I’m in love with love. My romance stories feature strong, self-reliant women who challenge the powerful men who love them.

My books are set in the Pacific Northwest, a part of the world I know well and love deeply.

I’ve lived all over Canada, but the best decision of my life was when I moved to Australia to marry my leading man. After many years there, we moved back to the Pacific Northwest. We now live in a leafy neighborhood close to the sea.

My passions are reading and writing. I also love hiking, beachcombing, and an occasional night of dancing.

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