In case you wondered, yes, I’m still working on the Iskendar series :)
“You promised!” Kai growled with fury as Lucian wrapped his leather clad arm around her waist and hefted her up from the ground.
“I am the king. Your king,” he reminded her, his dark curtain of hair obscuring them both as Kai attempted to fight his will. It was a battle she was destined to fail as his gloved hand reached between her thighs, parting them so that she could be pinned between his legs more effectively, one leg trapped underneath his armored knee whist the other flailed uselessly. Keep reading…
Two of my spanking romances which were exclusive to Spanking Romance are now available on Blushing Books.
Master of Thieves
Terminally misbehaved apprentice Rayna is the worst thief in the world. That won’t stop her trying to gain access to the notorious Thieves Guild though, even if she has to rob every vault in the city to do it.
If Rafe, the charismatic Master of Thieves, hadn’t noticed her before he certainly notices her once she executes a plan that throws the entire guild into pandemonium. If the attentions of a stern Master weren’t enough for one miscreant to deal with, there’s also Peta, the most powerful woman in the guild, and an authority that Rayna can’t seem to help crossing.
If she’s to survive the Thieves Guild, Rayna will have to have more than just a tough hide, she’ll need to find a way to make peace with those in power, a task that will push her feeble powers of obedience to the very limit.
A French governess employed to tame Cyril Hardy’s notoriously wild brood of sons, Francine Trouble (pronounced ‘Trublay’) soon proves to be more problematic than the boys themselves.
“But now, now I have plenty of time to tend to my wayward revolutionary,” he said, his voice thick not with censure, but with desire. He wanted her, Frankie knew that much, it was in his every breath.
“You need me to tend to you, don’t you Francine?” he murmured in her ear as he led her over to the chaise that sat against the wall of his office and drew her over his lap. Frankie went peacefully, only squirming as he rose her skirts up over her back.
“You taught my sons about that bloody revolution simply to tease me, did you not? To see what I might do if you teach the sons of an aristocrat that all aristocrats are tyrannical, hmmm? Shall I show you tyranny, my pretty little citoyenne?”
Serenity Everton, also on twitter as @asparkle2 has kindly written a very nice piece about my M/F spanking story, The Taming of Miss Munroe. She also has a very on-point analysis of why Miss Munroe has a blighted one star rating, not the sort of thing authors generally like to mention in polite company. Fortunately I have very little shame in these matters, which is why I have not pulled my books off Amazon and retired to a hole to hang my head and eat mud.
As a case in point, The Taming of Miss Munroe by Loki Renard is a classic example. This well-written story is spanking fiction. Not erotica. Not precisely historical romance, either. Sex does not take center stage, or left or right stage. And yet Amazon has unfortunately relegated it to these broadly defined categories, so that careless buyers who were expecting something more, um, explicit are disappointed. Likewise, readers expecting something more innocent are shocked.
This was supposed to be a tiny little couple hundred word mini-post thing, but it got out of control. Even the posts around here don’t behave themselves. Something ought to be done about that.
“You can’t spank me,” she says, her eyes flashing warning.
He is not listening. He is removing the cuff-links from his shirt sleeves, methodically placing one then the other on the coffee table. He has said that she is to be spanked. He has said it as if it is the most natural and necessary thing in the world.
“Don’t you dare.” She backs towards an exit, just in case the unthinkable happens and he does actually dare.
He looks at her mildly, his intention plain as he begins rolling his shirt sleeves up over his forearms, which now seem to her to be ridiculously overdeveloped. What has he been doing that the mucles flex visibly with even the smallest movement?
A curl of his salt and pepper has fallen into his eyes, he pushes it back then beckons to her. One finger crooked. Here. Now.
She shakes her head. “No!” Her voice cracks with outrage. “No we are not doing this!”
“Come here, young lady.” His voice is steady and low.
“No,” she insists. “No. No. No. No. No.” She shakes her head, lashing her pony tail from side to side. Keep reading…