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What’s your fantasy Valentine’s Day?

 To be honest, my fantasy Valentine’s Day would involve coming home to a dinner I didn’t have to cook—or better yet, going out to dinner so I don’t have to clean up either—snuggling on the couch under a blanket, with a warming fire and a good movie, like Rambo or District 9, on the TV.  Sex would not be too far out of line, either, but I don’t normally need a special day to get that. 😉



Since a competing sweet shop opened its doors, things have not gone well for Sinclair’s candy shop, Maybe’s Candy. Business was slowing, her finances were dropping, and no matter what she does she just can’t think of any way to get her business back on top. Even the one highlight of her week—that moment when handsome Parker Johnson, a man she’d been flirting with for over a year, came to buy his usual bag of caramels—even that wasn’t much of a treat. How could it be when Sinclair already knew something was wrong with him? She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was—was he married, gay, a homicidal maniac?—but a guy didn’t show this much interest in a girl without asking her out, at least not without a good reason. And Parker most definitely has not asked her out.


Then, an unexpected ray of good luck: From out of the blue, she’s offered a job. All she has to do is cater a candy party—one day, 900 people, and her store would be financially set all the way through summer. The only catch? The venue is a place called the Castle, a fantasy BDSM resort inhabited by some of the hottest Masters she has ever met. And one of them just happens to be Parker, the same man she’s been drooling over for the last year.

 What a coincidence! Or is it? Sinclair always knew there was something wrong with him. What she didn’t know, was how he could make WRONG feel so wonderfully RIGHT.

 Maren’s Blog- http://badgirlscorner.wordpress.com/

 Maren @ Blushing Books- http://www.blushingbooks.com/index.php?l=product_list&m=66

 Maren on Amazon- http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=Maren%20Smith&search-alias=digital-text&sort=relevancerank



“I’m not married.” He wanted to tell her that this was as bad as it got with him, but he wasn’t sure just how “bad” she considered all this and, to be honest, he himself had never really considered it bad to begin with. How could he? This was who he was, who he had always been even back before he knew what to call it.

He was a Dom, a man who derived intense sexual pleasure from the act of dominating women. This was only the second time in his life when who he was at his core had ever proved itself to be a problem. After the first, he’d sworn never again to waste his time with someone who did not share at least some of his kinks. Apparently, his heart had missed that memo, because it had taken shockingly little time to fall in absolute infatuation with Sinclair, a woman as vanilla as the scent that filled her shop.

She gazed up at him with such big eyes, it hurt to look at them. He tried to turn away but she caught his arm. “Is it an act or do you…” Again, she looked helpless around them. “Do you like this sort of thing?”

Parker caught his breath, a sound that was as much frustration as disbelief that she would even bother to ask. She may as well have asked him to explain the creation of all life on Earth. “Sinclair…”

“No, really,” she pressed. “I won’t laugh. I just… I’m confused. I’m trying to understand.”

“Understand what?” he countered, not just facing her now but moving closer. Looming deliberately to make himself an even bigger presence beside her. “What exactly do you want to know? Does it make me feel powerful to have a woman get down on her knees and present herself before me? You bet it does. Is it pleasurable to bind her, pin her down, spread her helplessly open to my touch, my sight, whatever I desire?” He didn’t feel like it right now, but Parker smiled anyway. “Yes. Hell yes, even. Do I enjoy inflicting pain? Do I like to spank?”

She tried to step back then, but he kept pace with her, backing her right up against the stone wall. He leaned into her, resting his hands to either side of her head. Her eyes were so wide, he could see himself in them, and her chest heaved, her breasts lifting. If he leaned just a little bit closer, he could have felt the soft scrape of her tightening nipples brush up against him. “What do you really want to know, sweetness? Do you want to know what it would feel like for me to dominate you? Do you want to feel my hands pinning yours, my mouth and teeth nipping at the tips of your breasts? Do you want to know if you’ll moan for me to continue or cry for me to stop? I dare say, depending on my mood, you might do a fair amount of both, but I promise, if you’ve been a good little girl, I’ll make you come so many times you forget your own name.”

In his experience, strong and confident women usually balked at being called “little” girls, good or otherwise. Sinclair only quavered, “A-and if I haven’t?”

That look, that voice, that shiver—all three speared him right to the very core. Parts of him softened; another significant part of him hardened with instant interest.

“Then you’d give me no choice.” He shifted his hand to brush her hair back from her cheek. “I guess I’d just have to put you across my knee and spank your naughty little bottom until it’s so hot you can’t sit down.”

Her soft mouth parted, her lips rounding into mirrors of surprise that matched her wide green eyes.

“Does that frighten you?” he asked, but it wasn’t fear that he saw inside her. Startlement, yes. Arousal, definitely not, but at least she wasn’t frightened.

She even shook her head. “I’m n-not scared of you, Parker.”

That shivery little voice and her use of his name both went straight to his cock. He couldn’t help himself. He brushed her cheek with his thumb, and then dipped down to caress her bottom lip the same way. “Good. I’m glad.”



4 thoughts on “WELCOME MAREN SMITH

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