Tag Archive | historical romance

A highland warrior with a score to settle

The Laird and the Sassenach

By Ashe Barker

thelairdandthesassenachBlurb

After her half-brother attacks the kinsmen of Blair McGregor, Lady Roselyn of Etal is brought before the stern highland laird to answer for her reluctant, unwitting role in the crime. Once she has told her story, she throws herself at his mercy.

Blair soon realizes that Roselyn is as much a victim of her half-brother as anyone, but his people’s demands for justice cannot be ignored entirely, so he strips the young Englishwoman bare and chastises her firmly with a switch applied to her naked backside.

The painful, humiliating punishment both assuages Roselyn’s guilt and leaves her yearning to be even more thoroughly mastered by the handsome laird. Though Blair makes it clear that she is free to return home, she instead chooses to remain with the him in his castle… and in his bed. Their passion soon blossoms into romance, but can the highlander protect his beautiful Sassenach when the villain who caused them both so much pain tries to tear her away from him?

 

Publisher’s Note: The Laird and the Sassenach includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

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Excerpt 2 (18+)

“Will you beat me again?”

“Aye, if you deserve it. For disobedience or disrespect. I am master here and that will apply to all. But you would not find me cruel. Indeed, I believe you would find pleasure in what I offer.”

“Pleasure, my lord? I do not quite take your meaning.”

“Will you not own to the slightest stirring? You may deny your arousal but your body betrays ye, Roselyn. Your nipples are swollen, your eyes have darkened as you consider my offer. I believe if you were to spread your thighs for me now I would find you wet.”

“Wet?” She drew in a shuddering breath. “My nipples… it is chilly in here.”

“Nay, it is not. I banked up the fire afore I woke you. Stop making excuses and open your legs for me, Roselyn.”

“I will not.”

“Yes, you will, and you will do it now.”

“I…”

He trailed his fingers the length of her body, tracing a path between her breasts and across her flat stomach to her mound. There he teased the auburn curls which protected her most intimate place.

“Open for me.” He leaned in to whisper the words into her ear, his familiar male smell overwhelming her senses. He was spice, and he was musk, heather, pine, and something mysteriously unique, an essence which was only his.

Roselyn was lost, mesmerised. She rolled fully onto her back, even managed not to wince as her weight settled on her punished buttocks. Bending her knees a little, she allowed him to tease her thighs apart. His slid his hand between her legs and stroked her moist folds.

“Ah, so deliciously damp. Roselyn, you do indeed delight me.”

“My lord…” She was lost, her words buried under the waves of pure sensation. “What are you doing to me?”

“I am pleasuring ye, sweetheart. Be still for me, and open wider.”

As though in a trance, wrapped in fog of unaccustomed sensuality, Roselyn obeyed. She arched her back and let out a sharp cry as he slipped one long finger into her wet channel.

He paused. “Did I hurt ye?”

She shook her head. “No. It was… oh, please do that once more if you would.”

He thrust his finger into her again, then added a second digit. Unfamiliar sensations assailed Roselyn, both confusing and exciting. And intense. It was incredible, unbelievable. Her head whirled. She felt tight, stretched, yet at the same time she wanted nothing other than to spread her body open, to welcome this intrusion. He was right, this was about pleasure. It was a strange sort of joy, but she craved it nonetheless.

“That feels good, my lord.”

“My title is laird, not lord, but I believe we are on first name terms now. You will use my given name, most particularly when my fingers or indeed any part of my anatomy is lodged within your sweet cunt.”

“Oh, God…”

“Nay, just Blair will do.” He withdrew his fingers and resumed stroking her outer lips. He found a spot which brought Roselyn’s hips right up from the mattress. “Ah, now I see I have your complete attention. Perhaps you might like to practice using my name.” He paused in his sensuous rubbing and Roselyn moaned her need.

“Say my name,” he urged.

“Blair.” She whispered it.

He resumed the torturous caress. “Again. Say it again. Louder.”

She raised her voice a little. “Blair.”

“Better. And you will scream my name when you find your release.”

“My…?”

He took that most sensitive nubbin between his fingers and he squeezed. Something clenched within, deep in her core, and Roselyn longed for his fingers to be inside her tight channel again. She yearned to be filled, stretched, owned.

“Could you…? Blair, I need…”

“I know.” He continued to roll her sensitive flesh between his fingers, whilst he used his free hand to open that most secret place and plunged two digits into her again.

It was too much. Roselyn could no longer speak, could not even form a coherent thought. She could only feel as irresistible shudders rocked her slight form and her inner walls clenched helplessly around his fingers. She arched further, lifting her hips, pleading for something, anything…

“Oh, Blair. Blair, Blair, Blair!” She let out a keening wail as the sensations peaked and her body convulsed, then, gasping, she stilled.

 

Blog post Introduction

 The Laird and the Sassenach is a story of a man with justice to mete out, and a dilemma to face. Sometimes the truth seems to stare us in the face, at other times it may be not so clear where the blame lies. In the middle ages, of course, matters of crime and punishment, guilt or innocence were simple enough. The social hierarchies of the time placed authority and power in few hands and there were no qualifications required which entitled the privileged to rule. They were just handed the job and the common folk had to hope their leaders would turn out to be wise and fair. Sometimes they got lucky, and The Laird and the Sassenach is a story of one such instance.

I love to write historical stories. I am especially drawn to Highland fantasies, and why not? Who can resist the soaring Scottish scenery and sexy men in kilts. I find myself fascinated by that heady cocktail of honour and lawlessness, the atmospheric sensuality of the time and the way an all-powerful laird will reveal his soft centre just when it matters. But the Sassenach in the story also has her little quirks and faces some unique challenges. And look out for an unlikely star of the show. Freya the wolfhound has her part to play and I absolutely adored her.

I hope readers enjoy The Laird and the Sassenach as much as I loved writing it

Thanks so much for stopping by, Ashe 🙂

“Seems to me you need a lesson in manners your daddy should’ve taught you.”

Her outlaw Daddy

By Jane Henry

heroutlawdaddy_new_cropped_1480843801609(Oh my, this is one hot book. I couldn’t put it down. Cole is a keeper 😉

 

About Her Outlaw Daddy

 As the daughter of a well-to-do politician, Aida Perkins is accustomed to living in relative luxury, but everything changes the night she is carried off by Cole Clemens and his gang. The gruff, handsome outlaw makes it clear that she will be held for ransom until her father repays the debt he owes, and until then absolute obedience and total submission will be demanded of Aida.

When she puts him to the test, Aida quickly finds herself over Cole’s lap with her bottom bare for a thorough, humiliating spanking, and to make matters worse he informs her that from now on she will be expected to call him Daddy. Though the painful, embarrassing punishment infuriates Aida, her body betrays her and Cole’s stern chastisement arouses her deeply.

Determined to master Aida completely, Cole sets out to teach her what it means to surrender fully to a dominant man, and when he takes her long and hard she is left begging for more. Aida cannot help her growing passion for her firm-handed captor, but it is only when she learns the real reason for her kidnapping that she truly understands the danger she and her new daddy face. Will Cole be able to keep his little girl safe from both her enemies and his own?

Publisher’s Note: Her Outlaw Daddy includes spankings, sexual scenes, age play, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

outlawdaddy3Excerpt 1:

“You can tie me up and whip me,” she said. “But I’ll see you hanged for this.”

Clenching his jaw, he grabbed her about the shoulder and tried to get her into position, but her foot shot out and kicked him in the kneecap. It stung like the dickens, and he swore vehemently as he rubbed at the pain, reaching for her bound wrists, but she was too quick. She spun away and tried to run but he snagged her about the waist. She tried to pull away from him, screaming at the top of her lungs, but it was too late for her now. He ducked her swinging fist, encircled her waist with his arm, and in one swift motion, dropped to the ground, hauling her straight across one bent knee. He lifted the strap and let loose a hard, whistling lash. She screamed when the strap connected with her backside. She kicked and hollered but couldn’t get away. Holding her tightly, he gave her another few measured swats with the strap. Her ferocity in fighting him still didn’t wane, though her voice caught now when she screamed. With nothing to protect her from the bite of the strap but her thin cotton chemise, he plied the strap against her thighs, and heard a whimper escape. Now he was getting somewhere. He spanked her again in the same spot. She yelped, pulling away and moaning, twisting her bottom, but he knew how to overpower her so that she could do little more than kick her feet. He was bigger, stronger, and meaner.

A string of curse words flew out of her mouth. Cole’s mouth set in a grim line, he spanked her again. “Well look what we have here,” he said in a low drawl, bringing the strap down with two more vicious lashes against her upper thighs. “A pretty girl who swears like a sailor. Tsk, tsk.”

Whap! The more he spanked, the more she fought. His arm hurt from having to restrain her so firmly, but he knew now wasn’t the time to stop. She needed a strapping that would break her will, leaving him the decided victor. “Seems to me, little lady, that you need more than a lesson in obedience,” he said, punctuating his words with whistling lashes of the strap. “Seems to me you need a lesson in manners your daddy should’ve taught you.” Whap! Whap! “And since I’m the man for the job, we’re not done here until you call me Daddy.”

Her curses echoed through the woods. He cringed. He’d have to spank her harder. With her over his knee, his range of motion was limited, and he couldn’t rear back to swing the way he would if she’d been up against the tree. Bracing himself, he lifted his hand even higher. The strap whistled through the air before landing in the hardest stroke he’d given her yet. Her whole body jerked from the sting of it, but still, she would not submit. He wouldn’t use anything more severe than the strap. He wouldn’t whip her harder. The point was to make her obey him, break through her stubborn resistance, not cause her real harm. He’d simply have to stay the course until she gave in.

Now he waited seconds between each lash. Whap! He paused, still holding her tightly, noting that now her legs didn’t kick quite so hard and her voice was growing hoarse from screaming at him.

“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Daddy.’”

“Go to hell!”

Whap! Another scream echoed in the woods. He waited again before he repeated his request but again, she refused. Now he waited even longer. Maybe not knowing when the next swat would fall would break her resolve. As he whipped her again, she was silent, this time only flinching as the lash landed. “I’ve got all day, little lady,” he said. “And we’re not goin’ anywhere until you obey.”

Buy Her Outlaw Daddy:

Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/jfw7x5p

Connect with Jane

Jane Henry

Jane has been writing since her early teens, dabbling in short stories and poetry. When she married and began having children, her pen was laid to rest for several years, until the National Novel Writing Challenge (NaNoWriMo) in 2010 awakened in her the desire to write again. That year, she wrote her first novel, and has been writing ever since. With a houseful of children, she finds time to write in the early hours of the morning, squirreled away with a laptop, blanket, and cup of hot coffee. Years ago, she heard the wise advice, “Write the book you want to read,” and has taken it to heart. She sincerely hopes you also enjoy the books she likes to read.

 

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Jane, thanks so much for stopping by 🙂