Love Christmas - then you'll love this Enchanting Christmas Story #romance #BookBoost #adventure
Mid november, I decided to give my Heroes of Westhorpe Ridge new covers. It took a while, but here's my first effort. That led to a new blurb. When I reread the story, it needed a couple of extra scenes too.
Former Marine Jared Armstrong—aka Masked Dom, Master Jay—strips sassy sub, Kitty Gail before spanking her bare bottom long and hard. Afterward, he makes her scream with intense, helpless pleasure. He wants to scene with her again. She refuses and flees Masked Night’s BDSM club in tears.
Frumpy schoolteacher Abigail Montgomery abandons her masked BDSM identity, Kitty Gail. She needs to marry for her brother to inherit their great-aunt’s fortune. Lacking confidence and looks, she advertises for a man willing to wed her.
Needing cash to help his family, Jared answers Abigail’s advert. He marries her, but without their masks, neither recognizes the other. He’s delighted that his new wife enjoys spanking and the scorching hot pleasure that follows.
Gangsters murdered one of his family. Wanting Abigail’s inheritance, they kidnap her. Can this former Marine save her? And, as Christmas looms, can their marriage survive? Or will he take her money and run?
Author’s note. Mobsters, Marriage and the Marine includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don't buy this book.
A standalone story from the Heroes of Westhorpe Ridge Series.
I fell in love my hero, Jared Armstrong, all over again. He's a former military snIper turned carpenter who needs cash urgently. The only thing he has to sell is his self, so he marries the oddest woman he's ever seen.
Of course, true love never runs smooth. There'are arsonists, killers, kidnappers, and murderous crime bosses to deal with.
Want to know more then read for free on KINDLE UNLIMITED
READ FOR FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED.
Hooded and bound, Abigail sobbed in the car’s trunk. When the engine roared to life, she tried to gauge the route by the number of left and right turns. She failed. Tears poured down her cheeks. The longer she lay there, the more her fears consumed her. Her stomach churned, but if she threw up, she’d choke. Her mouth dried. She’d sell her soul for a sip of water. The nylon rope dug into her wrists. Her arms cramped and her cheek still burned. She felt stupid and weak for letting them take her without her putting up more of a fight.
The way the vehicle bumped and bounced meant they’d gone off road. She prayed a stray rock would damage the car’s underbelly and bring them to a halt. No such luck. They kept going, but every bump threw her around like a leaf in a storm. Assuming she survived the next couple of days, her body would be a mass of bruises.
The engine stopped, and the doors slammed. Panic set in, and she needed out of the cold, confined space. Now. What if they abandon the car and leave me in it? I don’t want to die trussed up in this trunk. Fear washed through her, along with a spike of adrenaline. She breathed as deeply as the thick fabric hood allowed. Time slowed. Her thoughts cleared. Rather than give in to her fears, she made a mental list of things to do to escape.
Step one—get her arms free.
She wriggled around, hoping to find something to cut the rope. Bingo. Her fingers touched a metal box. Maybe it held tools or a knife. She almost wept when she couldn’t open it. The hinge stuck out from it, so she rubbed her bindings against it. Every few minutes, tensed her wrists, and tried to pull the nylon strands apart. It chafed her skin as if refused to break.
She’d no idea how long she worked at her bonds. It seemed like hours before they gave way. Relieved tears filled her eyes as she tugged off the hood and spat out her gag. She’d never been so thirsty. She’d give anything for a cold beer.