Release Day! Or, the post when I tried to for an hour to use GIFS

Imagine Fireworks!

Imagine Trumpets!

You will have to, since I couldn’t get the GIFs.

What can I do, you ask?

Tell you about my latest release, Protected by the Knight!

Romance book cover for ebook

#3 in Loving the Knight

Sir Edward Caldwell is not the type of knight to entertain notions of love. He has seen how little it takes to break a vow, and refuses to ever end up the fool. So when he’s ordered to protect a visiting princess, he seizes the opportunity to add a royal notch to his bedpost. What he never expected was that the princess would be just as much of a player as he is.

Princess Lotte has mere weeks before her arranged marriage is to take place and, despite her personal guard’s wishes, plans to spend that time experiencing everything life has to offer. Luckily, fate sends her just the knight for the job. But when she finds herself over his knee, with her heart on her sleeve, she realizes she’s playing a dangerous game – without knowing the rules.

Need to know what you’re getting into? Here is a blurb!

Chapter One

“Of course, dove. You are my everything. Without you there is no meaning.” Edward performed his lines with the perfection of a seasoned actor. He gripped the supple cheeks of the vixen straddling him. She bit her lower lip, an amazing actress by her own right, as her bright blue eyes burned. They both knew the parts they needed to play.

“What if my husband finds out?” she whispered as if their love had robbed her of enough air to speak at a normal level.

Edward let his hands slide up her torso where he held a breast in each palm. His cock hardened at the dessert that was to come. He’d sampled this treat before and knew it was worth the theatricality required to taste it. “Let him find out,” Edward hissed, his lips vibrated against her neck. “Let the world find out!”

She wailed in longing, their scene had reached its climax and now it was time for Edward to reach his. His cock celebrated its near victory. His hands joined the party as he lifted the sultry siren up enough to delve into her silky folds.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Someone knocked urgently at his door. Edward turned his head from the sound and lifted his hips. The woman froze, wide eyes transfixed on the very door Edward was happy to ignore.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Piss off!”

The woman shrieked. “What if it’s my husband?”

Moments from glory, Edward clucked his tongue and shook his head softly. “No, no,” he placed a soothing hand on her cheek. “I’m sure it is nothing import—”

“Urgent message from the King!” came the voice from the other side of the door.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Edward bit the words out, sliding from beneath the beautiful, blonde filly. He watched her slide back and out of sight before yanking the door open, not bothering to cover himself. “What is it?”

A young, very serious looking messenger glanced once at the parchment he held before speaking at a volume loud enough for the entire castle to hear. “The King requests your discreet presence at a secret—”

“Excuse me,” Edward interrupted the messenger, leaning one arm up and against the doorway, “if it is a secret, should you be screaming?”

The messenger remained, his mouth wide open, his forehead crinkling as if he was pondering life’s greatest questions. Edward looked past the goldfish and spied a smirking figure lurking in the shadows on the other side of the path.

“I am quite busy,” Edward said to the figure in the shadows.

Caldwell leaned forward and crossed his arms. “Not anymore.”

For the rest of the free sample, or a chance to buy please visit:

Blushing Books

Amazon-Kindle

Barnes and Noble-Nook

Happy Memorial Day Weekend!!

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My Accidental Night in a Sex Motel OR The Post Where I Truly Hope They Washed Those Sheets

Stuff happened, as it does. Through negligence and manipulation, through ignorance and good intentions—the shape of the bricks didn’t matter as much as the direction of the road, and that road lead me out of South Korea, quick-like (thank you, Allison!).

There are many steps between attempting to leave a country and accidentally staying the night in a room that offers tiny complimentary cock rings next to their tiny packs of complimentary coffee. First of all, when it comes to travelling, I am a bit of a worrier.  If I am meant to catch a bus that comes at 14:00, you better believe I am at the station at 13:00 with my ticket or fare (the same fare I’ve checked and rechecked) in my hand.

So, when I frantically booked a flight for my husband and I to get the heck out of dodge and I realized we had a noon takeoff I went into crisis mode.

Noon?!

We had to get to the airport from a location on the other side of the country! We were talking taxis, trains and subways. We were talking relying on us not missing anything or nothing being late. The only safe option in my mind was for us to arrive at the airport during the wee hours of the morning, snooze a few (10) hours and waking refreshed and more importantly, on time. I knew this would work. I’d seen that Tom Hanks movie.

(It should be noted that at this point my husband recognized that fire in my eyes that told him I was sure that mattress would fit in that space, was positive my hair would look great that color and that there was nothing short of a court order that could convince me that one guy wasn’t the lead in that one movie and he kindly went along with everything)

At first, the plan came together, well—as planned. I made my silent goodbyes, snuck out under the cover of reluctant deception and completed the first few legs of our journey that brought us all the way to the train station. A station that, and this will become important later, was relatively in the middle of nowhere. Armed with my less than fluent Korean I asked for a train ticket. I was responded by a man who spoke perfect Korean, but that is as far as I will go in complimenting him (side note: I have since declared this man as the last person I will dislike in Korea).

Even though there were trains running for 6 more hours, not a single one had space for the two of us. Mr. Perfect Korean told us we could get on the first train the next day, the same one that departed a scant 9 hours from that moment in time. Did I mention that at that time I’d demanded we leave so early that I had made us basically homeless?

Herculean is the word I will use to describe the effort it must’ve taken my husband to smile and reply, “It is only nine hours.”

Fast forward five more hours. I’m tired, husband is tired, we’ve been stared at by hundreds of people including Mr. Perfect Korean who walked pass us many times in the night and gave a look of what I mistook as understanding sympathy. We didn’t care though, we had less time left to wait than we had waited. The worst was over.

The last train of the night came and left. Mr. Perfect Korean walked by us on his way home. I offered a small smile and he offered the stoic Korean stare. Then we were informed that the train station was about to close.

For three hours.

(I could go into a rant about how Mr. PK knew what our tickets were for, knew what we were attempting to do camped in that corner and still made no attempt at telling us the station closed, but I won’t. I will choose to simply dislike him instead.)

I was okay with sleeping on a bench in the station but I could not fathom waiting outside, in a dress, in the predawn hours, for three hours.

I didn’t cry, not in a Herculean way, but impressive all the same. The same security guard who mimed that we were being kicked out offered us two words and one gesture of hope, “Motel. Walking.” As he pointed to what looked like a dark hill.

Fifteen minutes later we drag our eight bags down a manicured street to a black-windowed  building with a bright, multicolored LED sign that said: S* Motel

smotel

Maybe it was the stress, the exhaustion, or perhaps I am just considerably unobservant. Whatever it was, the only thought I had as I negotiated a reasonable price (in my not so fluent Korean) for my husband and I to stay in a bed for a few hours was that we were very lucky. The price was fair and to be honest, the elevator, hallway and room were straight up swanky.

smotelentrance

I thought it was weird that there wasn’t a real wall that separated the bath and the bedroom and that the tissues were placed directly by the bed, despite the many other surfaces it could’ve been placed, but I wasn’t huddled outside so the whole thing was a win.

A few hours later my alarm goes off and I feel weirdly refreshed. We start putting in contacts and brushing teeth when I notice the complimentary items…

smotelcompl

All the usual suspects: Gel, lotion, coffee, tea, condom, desensitizing gel, cock ring…

…the foam pad by the Jacuzzi bath that offered a lounging view of the bed and shower…

smotelbath

Huge bathroom, with viewing lounging space.

…the presence of mirrors and massaging beds…

smotelfullbed

smotelbedme

…and the realization was cemented when I checked the TV guide to see the only programming offered is of the erotic nature.

I proclaim to my husband, “This is a sex motel!” At which point we can both only think one thing, okay two.

One, I hope they clean the sheets.

AND

Opportunity wasted.

A Special Visit by Leigh Smith!!

This week I am veering from broadcasting my dismal paint skills long enough to host Leigh Smith in celebration of her brand new book, The Cowboy has her Back!


leighsmith Blurb

After her Navy SEAL husband is killed by a drunk driver, widowed Mikela ‘Mickey’ Chandler comes to stay with her brother-in-law and sister, Becky.  While out riding, her horse takes off at breakneck speed and Mickey loses her grip on one of the reins.  Fortunately, for her, local rancher Hank Caldwell is on hand to save the day…and the two embark on a passionate and stormy relationship.

It’s not long before Mickey falls head over heels in love with the tall, handsome rancher, but having been hurt in a previous relationship, Hank is guarded and cautious where his feelings are concerned.  There are other problems too, in that Hank is used to being in control while Mickey is an independent woman in charge of her life.  Their relationship teeters on the edge as the two fight for control.

Are they too stubborn and set in their ways to make things work, or will love find a way.


EXCERPT

Mickey told Hank to choose the spot.  He picked Rowdy’s Roadhouse, a restaurant on the outskirts of Williston and made famous by regular appearances of Rowdy’s Rangers, a Texas band now famous but discovered at the restaurant by an affluent patron.  Since then, whenever the band was on tour and in the approximate area, they made it a point to drop in and play a set or two. Rowdy’s was a popular place and there was quite a line  waiting for a table when they arrived. Luckily for them, many of the waiting patrons were large parties and they moved up the list quickly since there was just the two of them.

Mickey had pumped her sister for any information on Hank, but she didn’t learn much. Becky said he had only returned to Williston and let it go at that.  Apparently, the Circle C was one of the biggest and most successful ranches in the area.  In addition to cattle and horses, their holdings included vineyards and almond orchards.  Hank had a couple of brothers and a sister and both brothers worked on the ranch.  His sister married an attorney and moved to Washington DC.  His parents, were still involved in the running of the ranch but based on the gossip around town were gradually turning it over to their sons, Hank, Dave and Randy.

Hank and Mickey weren’t sitting at the table long before people started stopping by. All of them welcomed him home; and expressed their hope he stayed this time.  If people ever stopped coming by the table, she planned on finding out more about Hank Caldwell.  With his tousled sandy blonde hair, bronzed skin and bright blue eyes, fine lines crinkling the edges of his eyes and mouth, he was good looking enough to be an actor or model. He was a man comfortable in his own skin and used to being in command, and it showed. Dressed in dark blue jeans, sharply creased but soft looking and weathered, a checked long sleeved shirt and well-worn boots that were clean and polished, he was one handsome cowboy and she was sure he set many a heart aflutter, hers among them.  The steady stream of greeters slowed down and she was just about to ask him about himself when another couple plopped themselves down in the seat on the other side of their booth.

“What are you doing here, this is most unusual for you?” the man said to Hank. Mickey took a good look at Dave and could see a resemblance but Hank was the winner. “Mickey is taking me to dinner for saving her ass this afternoon.”

“Mickey, meet my brother Dave and this is his, ‘what are you Dani, his lover, friend, mistress, wife; what other labels might there be?’”

“No need for such sarcasm or meanness, Hank” she purred at him.

“I see not much has changed,” Dave said to Hank. Mickey was surprised that Dave took Hank’s disparaging remarks about Dani so well, she half expected fisticuffs to break out at any moment.

“Oh, a lot has changed.  She’s with you now and I only wish you the best of luck and hope to hell you never have to leave town, because we have one more brother.”

“That’s enough, Hank,” Dave told him.

“You came and sat down here, so if you don’t want to hear anymore, then I suggest you find yourself another table.”

Dave gave Dani a slight push out of the booth.  As they walked away, Mickey spoke to Hank.  “It’s none of my business, but I have to ask.  I can guess, but what the hell was that all about?”

‘You’re right Mickey,  I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t want to ruin what’s left of the evening by hashing through things better left untouched. Maybe if we ever get to know each other better, I’ll explain.”

“Okay, but before they popped in, I wanted to ask what brought you back to Williston and what took you away in the first place.  If the two things are tied together, I’ll understand if you don’t want to go there.”

“They are and they aren’t.”

“I left because when I was in college I was recruited by Homeland Security.  My college major was criminal justice and after September 11th I was all gung ho to go out and protect my country.  When HS came on campus, they offered me a chance to use my education and satisfy my passion; I took them up on their offer.  So, to answer your question, I worked for Homeland Security.  I’m not active right now.”

“So are you back in Williston to stay?”

“I’m in Williston.  Life changes on a dime and in HS I learned to live one day at a time, that’s what I’m doing.  So enough about me, let’s talk about you.”

“Shall I start at birth and just go forward or is there a particular place you want me to start?”

“A smart mouth, I should have guessed from earlier today.  Start anywhere you like?”

“I told you earlier my sister Becky had twins and I came to help. Once the twins were on a regular schedule, I was beginning to feel underfoot but the holidays were on the horizon,  and she asked me to stay through them at least.  It didn’t take much convincing, spending the holidays with loved ones or alone. I find I’m ready for a change and want to be closer to family. Becky said the district is looking for teachers so I’ve decided to apply for a position. Back in San Diego, there are too many memories around every corner.  I’m a widow.  My husband was a Navy Seal that, believe it or not, was not killed in the line of duty but by a drunk driver. Barry returned from a mission and was on his way home when it happened.  They haven’t found the driver, and I doubt they ever will.  It occurred about 2:30 am, and no one has come forward with any information.  It’s been two years, so I don’t hold out any hope.  It doesn’t matter though, it will not bring Barry back.  Anyway, it’s time for a change.  Becky is my only sibling so living close to her and my nieces makes this the logical place to settle.”

“So if you get the job, you’ll settle here in Williston, or at least in the area?”

“Teaching job or not, I’ll settle here.  With Barry’s pension, I don’t have any financial worries.  I still have loose ends in Southern California but nothing that will keep me there for long.”

“Good to know.”


Where can you buy this lovely way to spend a lazy weekend? Click one of the links below!

LSF PUBLICATIONS

AMAZON

 

About Leigh Smith 

My husband and I travel the western United States where I indulge my love for words, both reading and writing. I write what I like to read which are romantic stories containing strong dominant men and confident, feisty women. The relationships are always loving and challenging. Conflict is often resolved with either a threat of a spanking or an actual spanking or two, either erotic or otherwise.

Cowboys and westerns are my favorite genre, however my characters, although fantasy, are sometimes based on people I’ve come across in my lifetime.  Truth can be stranger than fiction and although the stories are fantasy, once in a while there is a kernal of real lease embedded in the situations.

If the story doesn’t contain a happy ending, it is left open ended for the reader to come to their own conclusions.

That’s the great thing about fiction, it can be whatever you want it to be.


There you have it. If you didn’t have plans or are looking for a way to get out of them, thank Sadie, cause she just thrust this in yo face!

You’re welcome

-S

 

“Affording the time to Write” or “How not to Become a Couch Troll”

A second post about money, Sadie? Isn’t that a bit gauche?

1. This isn’t that post and 2. I just barely know what gauche means.

This isn’t the post that puts a magnifying glass on writing full time compared to writing after your full time. Though, now that we are talking about that, how fun would being a full time writer be? I imagine there are some grass is greener moments. I’m sure there are times when full time writers wish they had a second source of income to take some of the pressure off of their current projects, but in my mind, they are experiencing that stress from the comfort of their home, in their pajamas.

In fact, when I imagine myself as a full time writer I see endless pots of coffee, in a room that is always at the perfect temperature and has hidden speakers in the wall (don’t ASK ME who installed them I do not have to imagine details!) that pump out exactly what I want to hear at that exact moment. In other words, I imagine something like this:

Blog How I picture

I am relaxed happy and have huge bewbs

Though, knowing me and my love of messy buns and well, messy everything, I would probably look more like this:

Bloghowitis

I computer on my keyboard with the keys

Moving on…

Writing is a solitary sport and one of my personal, greatest concerns regarding my writing is allowing it to lull me even further into my introverted, quasi-anti-social bubble. BIC (butt-in-chair) time is important, but it is equally important to go outside once in a while. If only to make sure the sun still rises in the morning and the birds still sing.

So, without further ado, I give you my three steps for affording writing time OR my three steps for not letting myself become a living room-gremlin-that-hisses-at-the-phone-when-it-rings-and-has-no-idea-if-it-is-2am-or-pm-because-I-haven’t-showered-in-four-days-and-there-ain’t-no-way-I’m-opening-the-curtains.

1. Prioritize

For me there are things I would like to do, things I need to do and things I will just do without even thinking about them and then four hours later I realize I haven’t done anything but watch The Voice auditions. Prioritizing makes the next two steps that much easier. Like Professor Moody should’ve said, BE COGNIZANT of where your time is going. It can fly by and no matter how fun it is to watch hours of all turn auditions, that doesn’t put words on the page.

Blog_Voice logo

 2. Be flexible

Treating writing like your day job (whether it is or isn’t) is a great idea. But it is important to make time when those small, unplanned moments arise. It can be annoying when your mother calls out of the blue just to chat or when your buddy suddenly springs an outing on you. Maybe you don’t go most the time, or even half the time. But maybe go once. 🙂

3. Don’t stress the small words

Yeah, yeah every word is important but as long as you know you can make it up, it is okay to maybe not reach that day’s goal. Especially if there is a really pretty sunset, or your significant other needs you to watch the no cry challenge with them on Youtube, or if your puppy is being extra cute and demands to be instagramed.

I think my three steps can also boil down to one simple point:

Remember that real people exist, they are important, they are often lovely and they should be appreciated.

She works hard for the–oh nevermind.

I cannot believe that anyone who completes the process of thinking up an idea, writing the idea down (however long it becomes), editing that idea and then opening that idea to strangers for them to ridicule does it because they expect to get rich. Really, just from a cost/benefit stand point, the costs are often high whereas the benefits can seem nonexistent. So, yeah, writers don’t normally write just for the money. You’ll notice my use of “just” because while it may not be the only reason or even the driving reason, making money is a reason (and feels damn good).

So, how much money can a writer expect to make?

Anyone with Google (or Bing if you are freaky like that) can type in the query, “How much money do writers make?” and receive page after page of articles, blog posts and forum posts that explain in excruciatingly vague as well as painfully specific detail just how very little an average author actually makes (on average :D).

These sites seem to glory in being the bearers of bad news. They post with bold headlines, bright colors, pictures, even graphs. As if they need graphs. Really, they could simply substitute their graphs with huge frowny faces and I would glean the same information from them as if they’d presented me with colored bars labeled to fit in a large rectangle.

However, as I am never one to miss a chance at making a graph, I…made my own graph(s). ((a little anti climactic there at the end))

green circleThis pie chart represents the amount that googling “How much money do writers make?” depresses me. (Note: this pie is entirely filled in, indicating a clear 100% depression amount)

blue circleThis pie chart represents how many fucks I will give regarding the results from googling, “How much money do writers make?” as I move on with my writing career. (Note: This pie is empty, indicating zero fucks.)

pieThis is pie.

So, in conclusion, I cannot draw pie.

Also, writers can’t write for the money. It cannot be the only reason a writer writes. So don’t open our conversations with, “Oh, you’re a writer, you know only 1 out of 30 billion writers make enough to quit their day jobs right?” because 1. I know and 2. You won’t get any pie if you do.

And I make way better pie than I draw.

Sat Spanks!

d6238-saturday2bspankings

It’s been a little over a week since Possessed by the Knight was released. I’m pleased to announce I have not fallen over from anxiety yet. There were a few close calls 😀

This weeks sentences come chapter 2. Kalista is at the tournament doing her best to ignore Caldwell when his brother, Edward (who is on the field as a participant), decides to shake things up a bit.

Edward sidestepped so that he stood in front of Kalista. “My beautiful Lady, yours is the only favor I desire. Would you do me the honor, Lady Kalista of allowing me to carry your token?”

Kalista slunk down in her chair and clutched her arms tightly across the front of her body as if hugging herself. While Caldwell seemed preoccupied with making Kalista fit in, Edward insisted on singling her out.

Georgianna gently but persistently shook Kalista’s arm.

“Will my Lady refuse me in front of all these people?”

Kalista was almost positive she would.

Book Summary: Kalista has gone from rags to riches. She preferred rags – at least she understood that world. Fate has turned things upside down and she needs someone to cling to, someone like the powerful Knight Caldwell. But when Caldwell pretends she doesn’t exist and his brother comes calling in times of trouble, whom can she trust? Whose love will prove true in the end?

Romance book cover for ebook

You can purchase at the Blushing Books Website, Nook or Kindle

Please continue on the path of naughty with this link:

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Sat Spanks!!

122ce-saturday2bspankings-mardi2bgras2bfloggers

This week went by so quickly. It seems the weeks are doing that these days. Anyway, it’s a good thing because that means it’s time for Sat Spanks!

My 8 sentences come from my brand spanking new release, Possessed by the Knight that tells Kalista and Caldwell’s story. Anyone who has read Pursued by the Knight will be familiar with these two but if you haven’t, never fear! I have blurbs.

Summary: Kalista has gone from rags to riches. She preferred rags – at least she understood that world. Fate has turned things upside down and she needs someone to cling to, someone like the powerful Knight Caldwell. But when Caldwell pretends she doesn’t exist and his brother comes calling in times of trouble, whom can she trust? Whose love will prove true in the end?

And for this week’s snippet we go straight to the sweet stuff, following last week’s blurb, Kalista and Caldwell had a disagreement, after carrying her away Caldwell is showing her what he’s prepared to do to help her:

“You could’ve listened but instead you were irritable.” He yanked her skirt up. A guttural
noise surged past his lips as his hand fell once more against her fragile skin. “Do. Not. Ignore.
Me.” Each word was accentuated with its own slap.
Her ass burned. Her first instinct was to cry out, tell him she was sorry, but as the pain
increased, it gave way to pleasure. Caldwell continued to punish her. His words distorted,
blocked by the sound of his rapid spankings.

Thank you for reading! Now, continue on to a smorgasbord of sexy snippets to warm up your Saturday:

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You can purchase Possessed by the Knight ($3.99) here:

Blushing Books            Kindle               Nook

~Sadie