Sunday, July 24, 2016


In the mood for a little Sunday evening tease? Something playful & flirty?

Well, then, take a little taste from my upcoming book, YESTERDAY'S PRINCESS, coming next month from Blushing Books:

She wasn't really challenging him, and yet he felt challenged. Brock leaned against the kitchen table and folded his arms across his chest.

"I understood that you had things you wanted to do with your life," he insisted.

"Yeah, that's the official story."

Brock chuckled at her audacity. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"No. I'm giving you permission to tell me if you cared or not that I left. That I didn't stay here."

"I did care. But I didn't want a girl who'd resent me forever, all because I stood in her way. I wanted a girl whose first dream was to be with me as much as I wanted to be with her."

Why was he being drawn into that conversation? He felt at odds with himself, as agitated as he felt relieved. Because Deannie was right. Those were words that did need saying. For years, they'd needed saying. Still, he wasn't prepared for the feelings attached to those words, not the least of which was being reminded of how much he'd wanted her.

"I'm sorry that it ended the way it did," she admitted. "Sorry that our last words to each other were…angry."

"Yeah, well. That's going back a long time ago. All water under the bridge now." He softened towards her.

"I guess—it's hard to explain. The world looks so big when you're young. And what you want at nineteen doesn't always come true. But, anyway…" Slapping her hand at her side, she said, "Let's have dinner."

"Good. I'm hungry.

He liked the fact that she was serving dinner there, at the table in the kitchen, which had always seemed more intimate than the dining room table. There, they still had a view of the property behind the house. Up until she'd become too sick to tend to the garden, Magnolia Hale had always had an impressive meditative area back then. In the midst of the rosebushes and orchids there had been a romantic, stone fountain.

"You'll be glad to know I've forgiven you," Deannie told him after they'd served themselves portions of the beef, noodle and vegetable casserole, as well as the bread.

Brock caught on that he was being teased and laughed. "You've forgiven me?"

"Yes. For spanking me that night."

"You deserved that spanking. Actually, you had it coming to you for some time."

"Hmmph." Deannie bit into her bread after buttering it. "Spank any of your other girlfriends?"

"No. I wasn't close enough with most of them for that. And a couple of them were pretty well behaved, anyway."

"Huh. Well, they'll never make any history, those 'well behaved' girlfriends." Brock raised his head, eyeing her. "Maybe you need a little reminder spanking? Something to keep you on your best behavior?"

"I was nineteen back then."


What was this? More teasing? As hungry as he was, and as delicious as that meal was— Deannie had impressed him with her cooking skills, which she must have developed over the years—he was captivated by her naughty flirtation.

"Sounds to me like you really do need a reminder," he growled.

"But I'm being good. Not like that last night when we were together."

"You are being good. Yeah…"

This was a flirtation. A sexy, little game. He all but forgot about the plate in front of him, loving her drawl, her pretty smile. Flirty play or not, he considered it wise to remind her of who wore the pants in that room. Though she didn't belong to him, according to their relationship in its present state, her kiss and her actions at that point were definitely hinting at something otherwise.

"You're not too old to get turned over my knee," he finished his statement. "A reminder. But just a reminder."

Deannie had lit the candles in the center of the table. Now the lights from the flames flickered and danced and brought out the deep blue of her eyes. Brock swallowed hard.

The little minx wanted him to spank her bottom! That was a switch from the last time they'd been together.

Had he known what kind of evening awaited him, he would have brought The Sojourner home a lot earlier.

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