xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' Kryssie Fortune: December 2016

Friday 23 December 2016

A spanking for Jazz


The way she blushed and nodded was adorable. She’d already primed her curvy little body and screwing her would be the perfect end to the evening. A one-night stand would make up for the atrocious food.
She moved behind the chair where he’d sat when he pulled her over his knee, and trailed her hand over its back. Her gaze locked with his, and she ran her tongue over her lips. “Do it. Make me forget the things I just did.”
There was an extra swagger in his step as he moved toward her. All dominant male, he settled on the chair. “Let me see all of you. Take off your panties and spread your arms.”
The eager way she shoved her panties down her legs made him smile. “Good girl. Turn around. Slowly. I want every detail of your toned body seared into my brain.”
His gaze never left her expressive face as she bared herself to him. Jazz darted quick looks about the room and twirled one honey-blonde curl around her finger. Her tongue flicked over her lips, and she took a tiny backward step. “I’m a little on edge here, but I really need this.”
Not wanting her nerves to get the better of her, he patted his lap. “Lay over my knee. You’ve been a naughty girl tonight, but once I’ve punished you, I promise I’ll love you better.”
Her teeth worried her lower lip, and one hand covered her cunt while the other still tugged at a few stray curls. He’d never seen a more beautiful woman or one so conflicted about wanting a spanking. When she took a step toward him, her knees bumped against his legs. She gave him a shy smile and bent until her belly lay over his lap. He stroked one finger down her back. “Palms flat on the floor.”
She wriggled forward, her belly rubbing so hard against his engorged cock he nearly overheated. He swallowed hard, not wanting to come so soon, but Jazz had his head spinning as though he was a randy schoolboy. Once she found the right position, he grinned and bounced his hand off her skinny ass. She shuddered, but she didn’t ask him to stop. Her tears dripped onto his shoes as she squirmed against his cock. “More. Harder. Spank me like you mean it.”
Her words fired him up, but he didn’t intend to hurt her, just stoke her libido before he sank his cock into her. He swatted both her sweet spots, hitting the left and right in succession, waiting a heartbeat, then spanking her again. He hadn’t arranged a safe word, but the instant she asked, he’d stop.
She moaned and lifted her hips higher. “Keep going.”
He spread the pain, two strokes high and two to the tender spots on the tops of her thighs before slapping her sweet spots again. The primitive part of his nature growled with sexual need as she submitted to him. With each smack of his hand on her beautiful bottom, she moaned softly and squirmed against his lap. When he stroked her hand though her pussy, she grew damp with need.
His cock throbbed in his dress trousers, and his fingers homed in on her pussy, trailing through the dampness gathered there already. The way she squirmed and panted drove him crazy. When he pinched gently at her clit, her anguished shrieks became soft, sensual sounds that demanded he screw her. He’d never needed to fuck a woman as urgently as he did her.


Please check out the other authors in the link below for more spanking exerpts


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Come up and see me sometime! #ashebarker #amreading #erotic

I had a surprise this week.
Loose id released my book, Sex Scandal and the Sheriff a week early. I just want to thank the lovely Ashe Barker for putting up this post at a moment's notice.

http://ashebarker.com/new-from-kryssie-fortune-sex-scandal-and-the-sheriff/

Do check it out. She not only made me look good, but you can check out her books while you visit her site. My personal favorite is Shared by the Highlanders.

After she becomes lost in a thick mist while hiking near the borders of Scotland, Charlene Kelly is shocked to encounter two men on horseback. To her horror, the pair—both of whom are dressed in Scottish tartans—accost her and won’t let her go. Though the men speak with accents so strong they seem to come from another era, Charlene is able to gather that they believe she is a thieving boy. Unsure what else to do, Charlene plays along.

When Will Sinclair and Robbie MacBride discover that their captive is in fact a woman—and quite a beautiful one at that—there is only one thing to be done. She must be punished for her deception, and punished thoroughly. A switch applied to her bare bottom does the job well, and soon enough the two men are comforting Charlene as she nurses her bright red, sore backside. 

Upon learning that the highlanders are hand-carrying an important message from Elizabeth of England to the court of Mary, Queen of Scots, it finally dawns on Charlene that she is no longer in her own time. Though she is desperate to find a way home, Will and Robbie are both unlike any man she has ever met, and their unabashed dominance awakens in her a powerful need to submit. Soon enough, she finds herself blushing with shame and quivering with desire as she is taken long and hard by two rugged highlanders at once. But can these hardened warriors keep her safe from the perils of a world far more dangerous than the one she left behind?

Publisher’s Note: Shared by the Highlanders is an erotic romance novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes including threesomes, elements of BDSM, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Or you can check out her books here,

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Ashe-Barker/e/B00FL04NOS/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

Thursday 22 December 2016

What does a Sheriff's oath mean?


Sheriff's oath
"I, Sean Mathews, do solemnly swear that I will execute the office of sheriff of Westhorpe  county to the best of my knowledge and ability, agreeably to law; and that I will not take, accept or receive, directly or indirectly, any fee, gift, bribe, gratuity or reward whatsoever, for returning any man to serve as a juror or for making any false return on any process to me directed; so help me, God."

When the hero of Sex, Scandal, and the Sheriff,  quit the SEALs because a gunshot wound robbed him of his speed in the water, he took over as sheriff of Westhopre Ridge - my imaginary, North Carolina town.  As you can see, he swore to uphold the law and not to take bribes. It was an easy oath for an honest man like him to swear.

The sheriff is elected to serve for four years and he may not be a felon. He's the highest-ranking law enforcement officer in the county and can hire and fire his officials at will. Once he hires a new deputy the sheriff has one year to get the deputy trained and certified.

The sheriff, as the county's chief law enforcement officer, has jurisdiction anywhere in the county, including municipalities, where the Sheriff's Office provides assistance and support to local law enforcement agencies.

That's a huge responsibility. No wonder Sean wanted nothing to do with Jazz after they'd been involved in a Washington orgy. Of course, he'd been there under false pretenses, but that's why things went crazy. 


Blurb of Sex, Scandal, and the Sheriff - (A stand alone romance in my Heroes of Westhopre Ridge trilogy) 

Jasmine Stewart (Jazz to her friends) falls for the blond stranger who spanks and seduces her at a Washington soiree. Later, when she discovers her flatmate is trying to draw her into a spy ring, she goes to the authorities. The ensuing publicity costs her her job, her security, and her future. Starting over in Westhorpe Ridge is her only option.

Sean Mathews, former SEAL and Westhorpe Ridge’s sheriff, can’t forget the woman he spanked when he visited Washington, but he thinks she’s a spy. When she turns up in Westhorpe Ridge, he tries everything to make her leave town. Despite their misunderstandings, though, they can’t keep their hands off each other.

As Year’s Eve looms, the spy ring resurfaces. Jazz will need all of Sean’s SEAL prowess to survive. But because his wounded leg cost him his speed in the water, will it be enough?

Buy links



Excerpt

Once Jazz had fulfilled her obligations to Star Magazine and banked their check, she tidied the odds and ends of her life. Finally, three days before Christmas, she loaded her life into her five-year-old car. Her last night in the apartment passed in a blur, and three hours before dawn, she set out to build a new future in the small North Carolina coastal town of Westhorpe Ridge. 

“New start. New life. New ambitions,” she told herself as she drove away from her dream of being a teacher. 

By the time the winter sun crept over the horizon, she’d passed the halfway point between Washington and Westhorpe Ridge. She made good time, but fifteen minutes from her destination, the car handling changed. Praying nothing expensive had happened to her trusty vehicle, she pulled over to take a look. She got out the car, walked around to the rear passenger side, and sighed when she realized the tire had blown out. Damn, my spare’s in the trunk, beneath my suitcases and bedding. Shaking her head, she heaved her first suitcase onto the grass verge. It hadn’t felt so heavy when she’d packed it. 

A police car pulled up. “Sheriff Mathews, ma’am. Can I be of assistance?” 

His voice flowed over her like molasses, rich, thick, and so sweet she wanted to taste its owner. Instead, she panted slightly but kept moving. “I’ve had a blowout, but my spare tire’s under all my stuff. Don’t worry. I can manage, thank you.” 

When she turned back to the car, Jazz’s eyes widened. The man in the uniform looked enormous, blond, and way too familiar. Handsome didn’t come close. In his long-sleeved fawn shirt and standard-issue brown trousers, he looked like a sex god come to earth. And are those handcuffs dangling from his belt? I can find a way to put them to good use. 

Given their history, drooling over him felt wrong. Despite what the doctors had told her, traces of the spies’ lust drug must still linger in her system. Her heart beat faster and her pussy grew damp. Even breathing seemed hard around him. “Ethan Mathews? I thought you were a scientist involved in some hush-hush stuff, not a sheriff. Why are you in Westhorpe Ridge? I thought you were some high-flying scientist. And isn’t impersonating a police officer a criminal offense? Shit, you’re driving a real police car. Are you really a sheriff?” 

He did a double take, glowered right back at her. “Jazz Stewart? What the hell are you doing here? Have you jumped bail? Keep your hands where I can see them while I radio in and run a check on you.” 

Jazz shivered despite the winter sunshine. Everyone except the CIA had made her out to be the bad guy, her former employer included. The damn sheriff was treating her like a criminal, but he’d been at that damn party too. Judging by the way he’d climbing on his high horse, he probably believed everything he’d read about her in the papers. Out of everyone she knew, she’d wanted the man she’d been dreaming about since the soiree to be on her side. He’s even sexier than I remembered, but what’s with this running a check on me? Surely he knows the truth by now. She hated the way he smirked at her, but she couldn’t resist taunting him. “So, Sheriff, spanked any other females lately?” 


SEAN MATHEWS STARED at the woman he’d been fantasizing over since he’d arrived home in Westhorpe Ridge. In her worn jeans and figure-hugging T-shirt, she tempted him like a modern-day Mata Hari. After the dreadful soiree, he’d never expected to see her again. 

It had taken a long, unpleasant interview with the CIA to convince them he’d only been hungry when he posed as his brother, Ethan. It hadn’t helped that the CIA kept tabs on his brother because he headed up a top-secret research team. Once Sean convinced them he hadn’t had an ulterior motive for turning up at the soiree, they’d warned him not to impersonate his brother again and let him go. 

Coming home had never felt so good, except every time he closed his eyes, memories of Jazz’s honey-hued hair and aquamarine eyes invaded his dreams. He’d do anything to get Jazz Stewart out of his head, but he wished he’d stripped her slowly and seduced her. Spanking her had been as necessary as breathing. So had screwing her afterward, but later he’d learned about the spies using the soiree to collect state secrets. Last time they’d met, he’d brought her to orgasm. Now she stood beside her blown-out tire and taunted him. 

His radio crackled, and his deputy told him Jazz Stewart was clean. There were no warrants out for her arrest, and she’d never so much as had a parking fine. He felt like an idiot for second-guessing the CIA, but she was the last woman he’d expected to see in North Carolina. And why was she heading toward his hometown of Westhorpe Ridge? His heart had leaped when he saw her, but his gut told him not to trust her. 

Back at the soiree, the way she’d gathered up her clothes and run had left him eager to see her again. Women usually clung on until he called a halt to any relationship between them. If he could go back and change the way things had ended, he would, but he’d still have talked to Jazz at the soiree. 

In hindsight, he should stay away from her, but she’d drawn him like a magnet, or maybe a Venus flytrap. His common sense told him to keep his distance, but he’d always been a sucker for forbidden fruit. When she’d stormed off to find her roommate, she’d certainly brought him back to earth with a bang. If he’d really been Ethan, he’d have let her seduce him and loved every minute of it. His brother had trouble getting dates, what with his top-secret schedule and the way his mind worked ten times faster than everyone else’s. 

Sean hated the way Jazz had feigned unease as a ruse to pull him into her web. As a former SEAL, he should have seen through her act, but he’d fallen under the spell of a woman who he still suspected had plotted against his country. At least he hadn’t known anything classified to tell her. 

Getting back into his sheriff’s uniform had grounded him and helped him suppress his longings for a woman he thought he never wanted to see again—except in his fantasies, of course. 

He pictured her, hands on the car roof, legs spread. His hand trembled as he ran it over his mouth. In his imagination, he lifted her skirt, spread her legs wider, and fingered her clit, or better yet, ran his tongue across. He hoped she tasted as sweet as she looked. Once she’d come, he’d thumb her nipples and kiss the back of her neck until she begged him to fuck her. Damn, he needed to stop thinking about her like that and concentrate on the here and now. 

So much for my unflappable professional persona. He hated the way she made his cock stand to attention. He wanted nothing to do with a traitor like her, but giving her ass another spanking sounded better by the minute. 

He fell back and heaved a second suitcase from the trunk. Handcuffing her and doing a body search tempted him so much his balls ached. While he’d never abuse his authority that way, he would stay cold and impersonal if it killed him. “All clear, ma’am. Do you need any help with the tire, ma’am?” 

She gave him a look guaranteed to freeze his blood and sat on the banking beside her cases, doing her best impression of a pampered southern belle. Fanning herself with a piece of paper, she sighed. “All that effort and stress has left me quite weak. I’ll sit here and recover while my hero changes my tire.” 

Wednesday 21 December 2016

Sex, Scandal, and the Sheriff - out today


Surprise, pre-Christmas release - great for a last minute gift.

The second of my three stand alone romances, Heroes of Westhorpe Ridge - Sex Scandal and the Sheriff is now available.

Tag line 

Jazz loved her one-night stand with former SEAL, Sean Mathews and the spanking her gave her. When fate throws them back together, she needs his SEAL prowess to keep her alive

Blurb

Jasmine Stewart (Jazz to her friends) falls for the blond stranger that he spanks and seduces her at a Washington soiree. Later, when she discovers her flatmate is trying to draw her into a spy ring, she goes to the authorities. The ensuing publicity costs her her job, her security, and her future. Starting over in Westhorpe Ridge is her only option.

Sean Mathews, former SEAL and Westhorpe Ridge’s sheriff, can’t forget the woman he spanked when he visited Washington, but he thinks she’s a spy. When she turns up in Westhorpe Ridge, he tries everything to make her leave town. Despite their misunderstandings, though, they can’t keep their hands off each other.

As Year’s Eve looms, the spy ring resurfaces. Jazz will need all of Sean’s SEAL prowess to survive. But because his wounded leg cost him his speed in the water, will it be enough?

Buy links



Excerpt
Once Jazz had fulfilled her obligations to Star Magazine and banked their check, she tidied the odds and ends of her life. Finally, three days before Christmas, she loaded her life into her five-year-old car. Her last night in the apartment passed in a blur, and three hours before dawn, she set out to build a new future in the small North Carolina coastal town of Westhorpe Ridge. 

“New start. New life. New ambitions,” she told herself as she drove away from her dream of being a teacher. 

By the time the winter sun crept over the horizon, she’d passed the halfway point between Washington and Westhorpe Ridge. She made good time, but fifteen minutes from her destination, the car handling changed. Praying nothing expensive had happened to her trusty vehicle, she pulled over to take a look. She got out the car, walked around to the rear passenger side, and sighed when she realized the tire had blown out. Damn, my spare’s in the trunk, beneath my suitcases and bedding. Shaking her head, she heaved her first suitcase onto the grass verge. It hadn’t felt so heavy when she’d packed it. 

A police car pulled up. “Sheriff Mathews, ma’am. Can I be of assistance?” 

His voice flowed over her like molasses, rich, thick, and so sweet she wanted to taste its owner. Instead, she panted slightly but kept moving. “I’ve had a blowout, but my spare tire’s under all my stuff. Don’t worry. I can manage, thank you.” 

When she turned back to the car, Jazz’s eyes widened. The man in the uniform looked enormous, blond, and way too familiar. Handsome didn’t come close. In his long-sleeved fawn shirt and standard-issue brown trousers, he looked like a sex god come to earth. And are those handcuffs dangling from his belt? I can find a way to put them to good use. 

Given their history, drooling over him felt wrong. Despite what the doctors had told her, traces of the spies’ lust drug must still linger in her system. Her heart beat faster and her pussy grew damp. Even breathing seemed hard around him. “Ethan Mathews? I thought you were a scientist involved in some hush-hush stuff, not a sheriff. Why are you in Westhorpe Ridge? I thought you were some high-flying scientist. And isn’t impersonating a police officer a criminal offense? Shit, you’re driving a real police car. Are you really a sheriff?” 

He did a double take, glowered right back at her. “Jazz Stewart? What the hell are you doing here? Have you jumped bail? Keep your hands where I can see them while I radio in and run a check on you.” 

Jazz shivered despite the winter sunshine. Everyone except the CIA had made her out to be the bad guy, her former employer included. The damn sheriff was treating her like a criminal, but he’d been at that damn party too. Judging by the way he’d climbing on his high horse, he probably believed everything he’d read about her in the papers. Out of everyone she knew, she’d wanted the man she’d been dreaming about since the soiree to be on her side. He’s even sexier than I remembered, but what’s with this running a check on me? Surely he knows the truth by now. She hated the way he smirked at her, but she couldn’t resist taunting him. “So, Sheriff, spanked any other females lately?” 


SEAN MATHEWS STARED at the woman he’d been fantasizing over since he’d arrived home in Westhorpe Ridge. In her worn jeans and figure-hugging T-shirt, she tempted him like a modern-day Mata Hari. After the dreadful soiree, he’d never expected to see her again. 

It had taken a long, unpleasant interview with the CIA to convince them he’d only been hungry when he posed as his brother, Ethan. It hadn’t helped that the CIA kept tabs on his brother because he headed up a top-secret research team. Once Sean convinced them he hadn’t had an ulterior motive for turning up at the soiree, they’d warned him not to impersonate his brother again and let him go. 

Coming home had never felt so good, except every time he closed his eyes, memories of Jazz’s honey-hued hair and aquamarine eyes invaded his dreams. He’d do anything to get Jazz Stewart out of his head, but he wished he’d stripped her slowly and seduced her. Spanking her had been as necessary as breathing. So had screwing her afterward, but later he’d learned about the spies using the soiree to collect state secrets. Last time they’d met, he’d brought her to orgasm. Now she stood beside her blown-out tire and taunted him. 

His radio crackled, and his deputy told him Jazz Stewart was clean. There were no warrants out for her arrest, and she’d never so much as had a parking fine. He felt like an idiot for second-guessing the CIA, but she was the last woman he’d expected to see in North Carolina. And why was she heading toward his hometown of Westhorpe Ridge? His heart had leaped when he saw her, but his gut told him not to trust her. 

Back at the soiree, the way she’d gathered up her clothes and run had left him eager to see her again. Women usually clung on until he called a halt to any relationship between them. If he could go back and change the way things had ended, he would, but he’d still have talked to Jazz at the soiree. 

In hindsight, he should stay away from her, but she’d drawn him like a magnet, or maybe a Venus flytrap. His common sense told him to keep his distance, but he’d always been a sucker for forbidden fruit. When she’d stormed off to find her roommate, she’d certainly brought him back to earth with a bang. If he’d really been Ethan, he’d have let her seduce him and loved every minute of it. His brother had trouble getting dates, what with his top-secret schedule and the way his mind worked ten times faster than everyone else’s. 

Sean hated the way Jazz had feigned unease as a ruse to pull him into her web. As a former SEAL, he should have seen through her act, but he’d fallen under the spell of a woman who he still suspected had plotted against his country. At least he hadn’t known anything classified to tell her. 

Getting back into his sheriff’s uniform had grounded him and helped him suppress his longings for a woman he thought he never wanted to see again—except in his fantasies, of course. 

He pictured her, hands on the car roof, legs spread. His hand trembled as he ran it over his mouth. In his imagination, he lifted her skirt, spread her legs wider, and fingered her clit, or better yet, ran his tongue across. He hoped she tasted as sweet as she looked. Once she’d come, he’d thumb her nipples and kiss the back of her neck until she begged him to fuck her. Damn, he needed to stop thinking about her like that and concentrate on the here and now. 

So much for my unflappable professional persona. He hated the way she made his cock stand to attention. He wanted nothing to do with a traitor like her, but giving her ass another spanking sounded better by the minute. 

He fell back and heaved a second suitcase from the trunk. Handcuffing her and doing a body search tempted him so much his balls ached. While he’d never abuse his authority that way, he would stay cold and impersonal if it killed him. “All clear, ma’am. Do you need any help with the tire, ma’am?” 

She gave him a look guaranteed to freeze his blood and sat on the banking beside her cases, doing her best impression of a pampered southern belle. Fanning herself with a piece of paper, she sighed. “All that effort and stress has left me quite weak. I’ll sit here and recover while my hero changes my tire.” 



Tuesday 20 December 2016

Winning Sadie by Libby Campbell @Libbyc26 #spanking #explicit


Taglines

  • He's boardroom. She's back room. Can they find common ground?

  • Divided by money, connected by desire.
  • He's sexy. He's smart. He's Simon and he's in charge.
  • She's frightened. He's fearless. Their future lies in the balance
Blurb

Sadie Donohue – gorgeous, sexy, smart and totally smitten with Simon Jacobson.
Simon Jacobson – gorgeous, sexy, smart, uber-rich and utterly smitten with Sadie Donohue. This sounds like a perfect match, so what's the problem?
Sadie is from the wrong side of the tracks: working class neighborhood, public schools, sausages on the backyard bar-b-que. She was raised to fend for herself and bow down to no one, especially a man. Since meeting Simon, everything her liberated, independent mother taught her has flown out the window. Now Sadie is regularly over Simon’s knee for being her sassy, strong-willed self. And she loves it!
Simon hails from a world of wealth and privilege: gated communities, private schools, servants turning steaks on the bar-b-que. As the owner of a multinational corporation he is used to giving orders and getting what he wants. His life revolves around making millions and socializing with people whose flamboyant wealth intimidates Sadie. Still, she’s thrown into the deep end and told not to do anything to embarrass Simon. Or else!
At their lavish engagement party, Sadie’s hears her mother’s voice echoing in her head, reminding her that she will never fit in. Best intentions aside, Sadie will always be an embarrassment to Simon. That's it. Engagement off!
Simon is in charge and he has other ideas. But will Sadie's mother be their undoing? Can Sadie reconcile her past with her future?
This love story includes spanking an adult woman, explicit sex scenes and more. If such material offends you, please do not read this book.

Buy links:


Simon Says, book one in the Simon in Charge series, is
now free on Kindle Unlimited or only 99c in the Amazon Store!

Excerpt 1 (Rating: NC-17) RS - KRB

Simon stood and put his champagne flute on the table. His lips twitched, as if he was fighting a smile. “Let me guess when you started having these doubts. I’d pin them as starting about a week ago, maybe the day you drove out to the airport and picked up your mother?”
Without meeting his eyes, I took his outstretched hand let him help me to my feet. He’d pegged the moment precisely. I was lifting Mom’s suitcase off the carousel when she made the first jibe. She looked over my shoulder as if searching for someone.
With a lift of her chin she taunted, “Where is the legendary Simon Jacobson? Is he too busy to welcome me himself?”
To the outside world, Mom acted as though she admired Simon. She complimented how well he treated me, how lovely his house was, how generously he treated his guests. When it was just the two of us she cracked critical, undermining comments that bit like a thousand beestings.
She said things like, “Simon’s friends live in a different world. You can’t have him without them and they speak a foreign tongue.”
With a skill perfected over my lifetime, Mom eroded my confidence that someone like him could love someone like me, and that the rest of world would accept us. Her week-long campaign to make me question my future with Simon was a resounding success. The more time I spent in the company of his friends that weekend, the less I believed that I would ever belong there.
Now it was just Simon and me, a lazy Sunday afternoon, and an engagement to cancel.
I breathed in the soft savory smell of him standing in front of me. His hand was warm and strong as he held mine. He lifted my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “I asked you a question: did you start having second thoughts as a result of your mother’s visit?”
I turned away.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He kissed me on the cheek. “I think we need to discuss this. With you over my knee.”

Excerpt 2 (Rating NC-17) RR, Kade

I walked with plodding footsteps first to Simon’s bedside drawer to get the key to the safekeeping place, then to the bathroom. In the top left hand drawer on Simon’s side of the vanity, lay the neat row of implements. Simon wasn’t tempted to buy more, he said, because so far we had all we need. He didn’t want to mark or injure me, he just wanted to remind me who was boss. Besides if our collection wasn’t enough to deliver his message, there was always a belt handy.
I carried the hairbrush back to him, balanced on my upturned hands. He’d pulled a small stool in front of him and watched me with cool detachment. My heart sank. He’d only used that stool once before, when he was delivering a spanking of particularly long duration. He’d had me kneel on it and drape my body across his left knee. He pinned my legs with his right leg. The stool was so I could slide back and take breaks at intervals decided entirely by him.
I knew my confession of doubts wasn’t going to go down easy with him but I hadn’t expected anything this dire. Not the stool and an implement.
He put his hand out for the hairbrush. I gave it to him and he held it up to me. I kissed the back of it, part of the hairbrush ritual.
“Sit.” He motioned to the stool.
I frowned, not understanding.
“Sit on the stool, back to me.”
“Clothes on?”
“Clothes on.” He nodded, his face expressionless.
I sat between his legs, my head barely reaching his waist.
“Keep your hands in your lap,” he instructed.
I folded them together like a birds’ nest and reminded myself to breathe. In the next moment, he started brushing my hair. He wasn’t going to spank me. He had only wanted to scare me with the over the knee comment. I sagged, partly with relief, partly with disappointment.
“What’s worrying you, my love?” He drew the hairbrush past the base of my neck and down the length of my hair.
“You said once that I was never to embarrass you in public or in private. That it was just good manners not to. On our first date you spanked me for embarrassing you.” I gripped my hands tightly at the memory. “But over the past few days, I have to tell you that I’ve said many, many stupid things to your friends and business acquaintances. Things that I know would shame both me and you. I can’t live by that rule of not embarrassing you. I can’t even not embarrass myself. I don’t belong in your world.” My voice sank to a whisper.
The brush started again at the top of my head, genuine boar bristles massaging my scalp. It felt heavenly and I tried to imagine life without Simon. A nightmare.

Excerpt 3 (Rating: NC-17) Kelly

He walked back to my chair and rested his hands on my shoulders. “Do you have anything you want to ask me?”
His hands were warm on my skin. I thought about those long, square-tipped fingers, fingers that could make me dissolve in ecstasy or bounce in pain.
“I do,” I said, having thought about this moment for the past two days. I choked down the bitter lump in my throat. “Will you please spank me?”
I bowed my head, in shame at my thoughtless behavior and in shame at breaking every single principle my mother had tried to teach me about not letting a man rule my life.
“I will.” His voice was husky and he kissed the top of my head. “Stay there. I’m going to turn your chair around.”
With that he tipped my chair back and angled it to face the other one in front of the window. He sat opposite me. He was in his 007 suit, as I dubbed it. Dressed to kill. It was an Ermenegildo Zegna bespoke number that he’d had made in Sydney on our last visit. It cost as much as a small car and enhanced his best features: his broad shoulders and narrow waist. In spite of my predicament, I had to admire him. Only I didn’t let it show. I kept my face impassive.
“Why do you think I should spank you?”
“I dunno. It was your idea not mine.”
A smile played on his lips for a second before he pressed his mouth into a firm line. “Lord, Sadie! Before we’d even officially met, I knew you had a well-documented history of insubordination and disrespect for authority but you continue to astonish me with the heights you take it to. Was that really the smartest thing you could say right now?”
“At least I’m not boring,” I offered.
“For the record, you have accepted my leadership well, even better than I expected, in some ways. But, as I explained from our earliest times together, I demand obedience from you if you’re going to share my life. Also you must know by now that I’m continually raising the bar and will not cut you any slack. Is this clear?”
“Abundantly.”
“And you’re still willing to work in this constantly changing landscape?”
“I am.”
“And be spanked for failure to comply?”
He was starting to piss me off. This long discussion was intended to draw the session out, to worry me even more and build on my anxiety. I just wanted to get past the worst and go have lunch.
“Didn’t I just ask for the damn spanking?” I snapped.
This time he didn’t hide his grin. “Before you add to the penalty, would you like to go through the reasons you are about to be spanked? I want to be assured that you understand why this is happening.”

Biography:

Libby Campbell, mischief maker and dreamer

Libby lives on the West Coast of Canada with her husband of over twenty-five years. An avid reader, she savors books that feature strong, independent women and the loving men who challenge them.

She loves mountain hikes, deep bubble baths, and all animals, but particularly small dogs with big attitudes and big dogs who think they are lap dogs. She’s a four season woman who enjoys winter nights in front of a fire, summer sunsets on the beach, and all the in between months.

She reads and writes for pure escapism. If you like her books, she hopes you will leave a review, to encourage her in my world-building.

Visit her website and blog here: Libby Campbell


Follow her on Twitter: @LibbyC26


Interview with Libby Campbell, author of Winning Sadie


Even though I have read your first book, Simon Says, can you tell my friends about your newest release? RS

Winning Sadie starts when the last guest from Simon and Sadie’s weekend long engagement party has gone home.  
Accustomed to deciding what he wants and then getting it, Simon assumes all he and Sadie need to do now is finalize their wedding plans.
However, after a week-long visit from her mother, Sadie has started to question whether she should marry Simon.
When her mother and grandfather are injured in a car crash, Sadie hops on the first plane east and leaves Simon behind in Vancouver. He has to reach across the continent to try to win her back.
Even though Winning Sadie is book two in the Simon in Charges series, it can be read as a standalone novel.

And are you working on anything right now? Will you sneak and tell me about it? I won’t tell anyone if you don’t…

Generally I’m kind of superstitious about talking about any work in progress. It feels like an invitation to disaster…but my current one is almost finished so I’m happy to share:
Book 3 in the Simon in Charge series, tentatively titled Sadie’s Christmas Waltz, follows this lively couple as they try to settle down to a normal life on the West Coast. They need to find a home to call their own and plan a wedding. Sadie wants to return to her volunteer work with homeless people on the Downtown Eastside. Simon has agreed that they will travel less so that they can share a more regular life together.
They find their dream home quickly, only to discover big obstacles in their way. Sadie’s return to volunteer work lands her in a dangerous situation.
Wedding plans very quickly become a low priority.

So what inspires you?

Power dynamics in a relationship always intrigue me. With so many contemporary partnerships ending in divorce, I like to play with the notion of what brings people together as well as what drives them apart.

What books have influenced your writing most?

While writing this genre, which I’ve been doing for only a year, I like to immerse myself in the books of other writers who are doing it well. There really are too many to name but lately I’ve been enjoying the work of Amelia Smarts, Renee Rose, Louise Taylor, Jane Henry, to list a few.

When you write do you ever model your characters after real people?

Simon’s ease with languages is based on two people I know, both men, both of whom only need 4-5 hours exposure to a language to develop working fluency. What a gift!
What do you hope people will take away from your books?

The most important element in any relationship, but particularly relationships where one partner takes the command position over another, is trust.
I’d also like to emphasize most emphatically that DD and BDSM doesn’t always work well or effortlessly. It’s not a generic, one size fits all practice.
If you’re new to the world and want to integrate elements of discipline into your life, take it slowly. The heroes on the romance pages don’t exist in real life and expectations must be adjusted accordingly.

How did you come up with your title?

Simon was just so assured of his ability to command whatever he wanted in Simon Says, it was Sadie’s turn to have her name on the cover.  It was Simon’s turn to make an effort to charm her back to his side so Winning Sadie came easily.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Read. Read. Read. Write. Rewrite. Rewrite. Rewrite. And keep learning, sharpening your skills.

Thursday 15 December 2016

From Zero to Superhero – Well…US Marine


Run at over six miles per hour for twenty-eight minutes? You have to be kidding me.
How about 50 or more crunchies in less than 2 minutes? I’d be laid on the floor crying.

If you want to become a US Marine, though, the recruiters expect this and more.

Marines need to be strong, tough, and smart. Above I’ve talked about minimum standards. To achieve a top score, a candidate must manage a 3 mile run in 18 minutes, perform 100 crunchies in 2 minutes, and do 20 pull ups.

 That means running at 10 mph for eighteen minutes.

Just getting through that lot would kill me.

Training starts as soon as the new recruit gets on the bus to the base. A drill instructor acquaints them with Military law and tells them they are now subject to it. Once they disembark, they line up on yellow footsteps painted on the floor. Here, they learn to stand to attention and have their uniforms issued. 

Next step, military haircut. 

The recruits are issued with their rifles, have medicals, and vaccinations where needed. The whole receiving process takes about three days—usually without sleep, then the recruit faces the Initial Strength Test.

To pass, a male recruit must complete at least three pull-ups, 45 crunchies in two minutes, and run 1.5 miles (2.4 km) in 13:30 minutes or less. The female recruits must hold a “flexed arm hang” (hanging on a bar with their arms bent) for at least 12 seconds, complete 45 crunchies in two minutes, and run 1.5 miles in 14 minutes and 30 seconds or less.

Let me repeat. All without sleep. I’d be a wreck.

The training only intensifies from there, with drill instructors constantly harassing the recruits to ensure they can cope with battlefield stress. 

My latest hero was a Marine sniper before he left the service to start his own business.  There's a free short story about him on my website

http://kryssiefortune.wixsite.com/kryssie

Once he returned to civilian life, he could pursue his other interest as a Dom.


Buy links



Excerpt

Jared showered quickly, wanting to impress his future boss. He’d expected the advert to be from a security firm or even a mercenary-recruiting company, not an embarrassed woman who could barely string a sentence together. He could follow orders, no matter who issued them. The Marines had taught him that, along with a dozen ways to take out his enemies, but he preferred to be his own boss. 

When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t like what he saw. He’d worked all week with barely a break trying to get ahead on his commission. His beard needed trimming and his mustache, usually so neat on his upper lip, had grown scraggly. Grabbing his electronic razor, he shaved them both off, but his long hair looked messy against his clean-shaven cheeks. He grabbed some scissors, pulled the ends into a ponytail, and cut it off. Still unsatisfied, he ran the razor over his dark hair, giving himself the military crew cut he’d worn until he went on special assignment. 

He pulled on some jeans and his favorite blue T-shirt. There. He looked respectable enough to impress a recruiting sergeant, let alone a prospective employer. She’d arrive in time for a late lunch, but he wanted to meet on neutral ground. He remembered the café overlooking the lake in a nearby park. When she rang back, he’d arrange to meet her there. 

Hanging about doing nothing almost drove him crazy. He ached to polish a piece of oak he’d been working on, but he needed to stay clean and tidy. Sawdust on his jeans wouldn’t win him any points in a job interview, he supposed. Damn it. How long do we need to talk before I can ask her about the advance? 

Eventually, he walked the three miles to the nearest park and found a table on the café’s balcony overlooking the lake. When his phone rang again, he answered, “Jared Armstrong.” 

A soft, feminine voice asked, “I’m a mile from the city limits. Where should I meet you?” 

He gave her directions, pleased when she liked the idea of meeting in impersonal surroundings. When the waitress came for his order, he told her, “Two sparkling mineral waters, please. A friend’s joining me soon.” 

Damn it. If she asks me about my friend, I’m screwed. I don’t even know her name. Fortunately, once the waitress had brought the drinks, she left him in peace. Almost quarter of an hour later, a woman stopped beside his table. She’d pulled her hair into an unflattering ponytail, and she wore the baggiest sweater he’d ever seen. Her glasses were the gold-rimmed sort that went out of fashion before the change of the century. 

Rising to his feet, he held out his hand. “Jared Armstrong. Pleased to meet you.” 

He towered over her diminutive frame, six-feet-six to her five-feet-four. She studied him a moment, reached out, and shook his hand briefly. “Abigail’s enough for now.” 

He sat back in his seat, forcing himself to appear relaxed. “Okay.” 

He regretted not pulling her chair out and seating her, but she was a prospective employer, not his date. A good thing too, since she didn’t seem to have an ounce of vanity or dress sense. He sipped at his water and waited for her to speak.

Blushing, she sucked on her lower lip. “This is awkward. Can I ask you some questions?” 

He nodded. “I don’t guarantee answering them, but ask away.” 

God, he wished she’d get on with it, but she studied the unopened menu as though her life depended on it. Finally, she lifted her head. “Are you married?” 

His eyes narrowed. “Your advert said no ties. I’m single, HIV free, and I don’t screw anyone for cash.” 

She choked on her drink, coughing and splattering water over the table. Jared watched and waited, unwilling to make it easier for her when she was the one who placed the advert. 

Across the table from him, Abigail curled her hands into fists and laid them on her lap. Her smile faded and her voice trembled. “Will you marry me?” 

“Are you pregnant?” he shot back. 

Her cheeks turned scarlet. “No. In fact, I came on my period two days ago. But I do need a husband. I know I’m not what you imagined in a wife, but I’m willing to pay a $75,000 advance as well as house, feed, and clothe you for two years. After that, I’ll pay you another $150,000 when we divorce.” 

He stared at her intently, trying to decide if she needed therapy—or perhaps a few weeks in the local insane asylum. “You’re serious?” 

She took a sip of mineral water. “I am.” 

His eyes narrowed, and his forehead furrowed in anger. “I’ll feed and clothe myself. Can I still put time in with my business, or should I get a job local to where you live?” 

When she finally smiled, it felt as though the sun had come out on a cloudy day. 

Putting her glass on the table, she took looked anywhere but at him. “I’m glad you want to do so. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I chose you. You have values and goals. All I have is an insane great-aunt, or I did until recently.” 

“Tell me about it,” he demanded. 

Abigail’s eyes glazed over as she told him the bare bones of her story. “Great-Aunt Edith disapproved of everything. Have you ever met a woman so straitlaced she made your teeth ache? Well, that sums up my great-aunt. Her grandmother made the history books as a star of the silent movies, but she’s even more famous for the plethora of millionaires she bedded. One of her lovers gave her Westhorpe Hall, but she changed the name to match hers. Others showered her in jewels. Apparently she preferred stocks and shares.” 

As she’d intended, he laughed. Her mind drifted, and she smiled slightly. This man with his knockout smile and lickable dimples could make a fortune advertising toothpaste. 

He stayed silent, so Abigail plowed on with her explanation. “My great-great-grandmother amassed millions, but her daughter had social ambitions that their mother’s reputation kiboshed. She raised her children—Great-Aunt Edith and my gran—so prim and proper they disapproved of everything, even each other. I never knew my gran, but my mom once had a rebellious streak. I think she’s found it again now she’s remarried and moved to Texas.” 

He called the waitress over and ordered a liter bottle of sparkling water, then glanced across at Abigail. “I can recommend the beef sandwiches.” 

She blinked, as if his interruption threw her. “That’s fine.” 

He placed the order, then turned back to the woman sitting across from him. This whole thing sounded crazy, and while part of him wanted to walk away, he needed the money to keep his family safe. “Keep going.” 

Abigail waited a moment before she rushed on. “Mom got pregnant without getting married. Worse, she did it again when she had me. To hear Great-Aunt Edith go on about it, you’d have thought the world had ended. Mom and Dad married eventually, but they did it in their time, not hers.” 

Jared laughed. “I bet that went over well with your great-aunt.” 

Abigail stared over his shoulder, hating how circumstances forced her to bare her soul to a stranger. “I used to think my family hated me and my brother, Adam. Well, not Mom and Dad, of course, but thanks to my great-aunt’s will, we’ve learned Edith also had a daughter out of wedlock. God knows how Edith Montgomery ever got a man into her bed. Kissing her would have been like sucking lemons. Anyway, no one ever spoke about her daughter, but apparently she yearned for a rock-and-roll lifestyle, packed her bags, and headed to Washington. If you’d met Great-Aunt Edith, you’d understand, but no one heard from her daughter again. Not surprising since, according to a letter my great-aunt left with her lawyers, she’s dead. Apparently my great-aunt kept tabs on her, and we learned from the will that there’s granddaughter none of us ever knew about. She shares our inheritance, assuming we can find her, but Great-Aunt Edith’s ensured Adam gets the hall.” 

Jared leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “That’s all very interesting, but what’s it got to do with me?” 

Abigail took a moment to study him, as if she was making up her mind what she was prepared to tell him. “Great-Aunt Edith inherited everything. She left me, my brother, and my missing aunt’s daughter three-quarters of a million dollars outright. If all three of us are married within a year, the money goes up—a lot, but we have to stay married for at least two years. Honestly, I’d resigned myself to being a spinster schoolmarm. Yes, I know it’s a stereotype, but men don’t see me as date material.” 

He looked her over for almost five minutes, considering her demands. With those shocking glasses and frizzy hair, he’d normally pass her in the street without giving her a second look. Now she wanted to marry him. Still, as he’d put in his letter, he had nothing left to sell but himself. “I’d like $125,000 in advance, but it’s a loan. When my business takes off, I swear I’ll pay you back. I don’t want a divorce settlement either. Get a lawyer to draft the contract with those conditions, and I’ll do it.” 

Copyright © Kryssie Fortune