To celebrate this wonderful season, I have written a novella that is yours absolutely free. Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy Festive Fire in good health.
But snag your copy soon because this gift will vanish on January 6th, 2019.
She’s done with men. Until she meets Jax.
For a year Roxy’s life has been torn apart by lies and innuendos. As Christmas approaches, she finds herself in the company of people who almost destroyed her. She copes by slugging back glasses of wine until the bottle runs dry.
Fireman Jax has been watching her. When she attempts to drive home, he steps up, takes her car keys, and tells her such irresponsible behavior will not be tolerated. As soon as she’s sober, she’ll be over his knee for a sound spanking. She aghast but secretly panty-wetting hot for him.
Can she submit to his rules?
Disclaimer: Festive Fire is a fantasy that includes sexual scenes and spankings. It is intended for adults only, ages 18+. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Catch a copy here: https://claims.prolificworks.com/free/1v99PGtv
Jax studied Roxy, admiring her smart business suit, modest sweater, and thick chignon that was slightly unravelling. There was a tenseness about her, like a frightened bird.
Don’t get involved he told himself.
She swallowed and parted her luscious lips in a grateful smile. “It’s perfect thanks.” She reached for her wine and slugged back her second drink.
Taking the pitcher of iced water from the middle of the table, Jax poured her a glass and handed it to her. “You may want to alternate drinks.”
“Who are you? My freaking father?” She pouted.
“If I were and you spoke to me like that, I’d turn you over my knee and spank you.” He smiled to soften his words.
“I’d like to see you try.” She levelled her eye as him while rubbing her knee against his.
The warmth of her body against his made his cock stir. What was he thinking? She was a married woman. With a baby. He glanced at her hands. No rings.
“What would your partner say about that?” he asked.
“Father of your baby?”
She let out an unladylike bleat of laughter. “That wasn’t my baby. That was Oliver. My nephew. My sister’s kid. I love him to bits but I don’t have any of my own.” She lunged for the bottle of red.
Jax moved it out of her reach, smiling. He liked her candor, her energy. Then there were those great legs and dark brown eyes. A burst of happiness ran over him, even as alarm bells rang, reminding him of what happened with the last woman he’d flirted with.