My road trip has drawn to a happy conclusion and I’m home again. Just in time to share the news that Trusting Ingrid, book 3 in the Romancing the Coast series is out now.
Ingrid has been expecting to have this conversation her entire life. She’s skated on the edge of the law for so long, she’s always expected to have it with a judge or prison warden.
Ingrid Nickel doesn’t want to go into rehab. Again. She tried it once but it didn’t work.
When she meets Lachlan Morrison, the connection is electric. She sees a handsome man, directing and challenging, who won’t be intimidated by a powerful woman like her. He sees a woman whose bluster and sarcasm is a cover for something deep inside her that is badly broken.
The daughter of a grifter, Ingrid has grown up street-wise and lawless. Lachlan has rescued more than one creature whose bark was worse than its bite.
Will his stern, loving magic work on Ingrid?
Publishers note: Although loosely part of a series, Trusting Ingrid, a spicy romance can be read as a stand alone story. It includes scenes of domestic discipline and power exchanges.
Buy link: Amazon
The newsreaders said the rain was part of an atmospheric river that would pass in twenty-four, maybe thirty-six, hours but Lachlan insisted they walk Cotter regardless.
“A dog like that needs lots of exercise,” he said.
Ingrid trudged along silently, unable to talk to Lachlan because they were both hunched under their hoods, deafened by the hammering downpour. In those drenched miles, Ingrid learned what it would be like to walk along a riverbed, with water constantly washing over her. By the time they were home, she was chilled, tired, and in a mood darker than the skies above. She decided to get the next bad part of the day over with, sending Lachlan the usual text.
He found her in the bedroom, playing poker on her iPad.
Without looking at him she said, “Guess what? I’m too tired for a spanking.”
He sat beside her. “Guess what? You’re getting one anyway.”
He took the iPad out of her hands and wrestled her to her feet in front of him. She stood, stubbornly not looking at him. He tried to pull her leggings and panties down. She locked her legs together, pressing her lips into a thin line, her jaw set.
“You want to make this last longer, do you?” he asked. “Because I’ve got the rest of the afternoon free. If my hand gets tired, I have a belt. You decide.”
Her eyes met his. She blinked before pulling her own pants down. She was barely across his lap when he started to spank her. Hard. He spanked her quickly, efficiently, with more force that he’d ever used before. Within seconds she forgot the rain, she forgot being embarrassed by having to ask for a spanking. She forgot everything but the river of pain being delivered to her backside. By reflex she cried for him to stop, even though she knew he wouldn’t. Every ounce of willpower she possessed was devoted to not breaking the position on his lap, even though she knew she was strong enough to get away if she wanted to.
Lachlan wasn’t a caveman dragging her by her hair to a beating because she was helpless to resist. She was physically strong. She was mentally devious. She could scream loud enough to wake the dead if she wanted to. In short, she could get up and walk away. And then what? Try to find someone else as sexy, as affectionate, as caring as Lachlan?
Besides, the idea of the spankings turned her on. The reality of them scared her. But they didn’t last forever and he was always so gentle after.
When the spanking stopped that afternoon, she burst to her feet like a diver coming up for air. Grateful for his determination to spank her, to not let her weasel her way out of what they both knew she needed, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Kissing the top of his head, she said, “Thank you."