For Maddie, the men of Brocton are too quick to tell her husband what to do. Especially when it comes to handling her!
Hello, my friends!
I’m pleased to be bringing back some stories that have been out of print for years! I hope you’ll enjoy this collection of stories about Maddie and the man who loves her more than life itself.
Enjoy this excerpt:
Maddie was angry at Heath’s determination to beat her with a switch and angry at herself for not listening to him in the first place. She was also fearful and humiliated. Being sent to cut your own implement of torture was just too much. Furious, she slashed off a slender shoot and returned to her husband, jamming the offensive twig into his chest.
“There!” she announced scornfully.
Heath took the proffered switch and held it up. “It’s a bit puny isn’t it Maddie?” he asked, trying not to laugh. The branch was about six inches long and covered with leaves, hardly big enough to swat a palm with, let alone a nice rear-end.
“Well, you never said how big it was supposed to be,” she returned defensively.
Heath began peeling leaves from the little branch. “Well, it’s your choice I suppose. But this is what I’ll wear out on your thighs after I spank your bottom with the real switch you are still going to go get. If you come back with another one like this, then I’ll have one for each thigh won’t I?” He smiled smugly at her and swished the little branch through the air.
Maddie gasped! He wouldn’t…surely? The look in his eye told her he was serious and Maddie’s temper finally began to cool as she realized she wasn’t getting out of this.
Feeling suddenly scared and forlorn, she slowly dragged herself back to the tree, looking for what she hoped was a suitable branch this time. She took her time cutting it, trying not to wince as she remembered Able hopping and yelling when their father had used a switch on him. He had sported little red welts for hours afterward and even seemed proud of them. Boys, she thought scornfully.
Finally she slunk back to Heath, her head bowed, and handed him the switch. When she glanced up at him, her eyes were misty and she watched in apprehension as he smoothly stripped the branch of its twigs and leaves. Finally he swished it experimentally through the air and she shivered at the hiss it made.
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It will run in two exchange catalogs for a limited time! If you like it, the next two books in the series are available on Amazon!
Romance Bouquet is the first one you can find it in!
Mads could have sworn the devil himself had sent the fiery bolts of Hell from his pitchfork right into her buttocks. No matter how much she begged and apologized, the relentless chastisement of his paddle-like hand continued. Tears spurted from her eyes and hoarse sobs burst from her throat as she struggled to endure his scalding displeasure. Finally, she gave up and collapsed over his lap, accepting that her fate would be to never sit again for a meal on a hard chair. He had obviously scarred her for life. She was so lost in abject misery that it took a few minutes to realize he’d stopped spanking and was now rubbing his palm gently over the backs of her legs and back up and over her bottom. In spite of the agony of contact from his palm, it did feel as if some of the burn was easing. “L-let me up, please?” she asked humbly, gasping for breath. Maybe she did owe him a real apology, and she was not one to shirk her duty. Although fierce in the face of injustice, she was just as determined to make corrections if she should find she was in the wrong. Besides, there was something about the way he was caressing her that was making her feel funny in her lower regions. The desire to moan with pleasure was replacing the sobs in her throat. This couldn’t be a good thing, even if they were in a fake engagement. She wondered if Snipes was hovering outside the door and if he’d tried to save her from her fate. Probably not. He’d think she deserved it. When she felt the dress sliding back down her hips and her body pulled up to sit on Josiah’s lap, she was relieved, although it confirmed her suspicions that she would never sit comfortably again. “I fear you have ruined my sitting ability forever,” she whispered throatily, huge tears glistening in her eyes and on her cheeks as she wiggled to find a softer spot. Alas, on his hard thigh, there wasn’t any. Josiah’s stern gaze softened, and a slow grin brought out the dimples in the corners of his mouth, causing her breath to catch. He brushed his thumbs slowly across her cheekbones, inspecting her face as if he were seeing her for the first time. “I fear, madam, that without your temperamental shenanigans and your pinching, you can be quite charming and amusing. Not to mention very beautiful. “His breath ghosted across her lips and the peaks of her breasts tingled as the leather vest pressed into her bosom. Yet he did not kiss her.
The third in my Revenge Series is now available. Enjoy, my friends!
The perfect fun and easy read by the fire on a cold winter’s day. Treat yourself to a delicious romantic sizzle. Available on Amazon and other fine retailershttps://books2read.com/u/bw7ppe…
P Moser: “Author, Brandy Golden really knows how to spin a tale, and the storyline is just wonderful. I really enjoyed every page of this book, and was sorry when I saw the words “The End”. “
Enjoy this excerpt :
Chessy Morgan grinned down at the man walking beneath her scaffold. He in turn glared up at her. She waved cheekily when he did an about face and continued on his way, his back ramrod stiff, the water droplets glistening on his black Brooks and Dunn suit jacket.
So much fun to aggravate the man.
There was just something about the set of his blond head and the natural dominant arrogance that he seemed to stride through life with that set her teeth on edge. At least through her life on the scaffold above the sidewalk where she spent three hours a day earning the insurance payment on her Volkswagen.
The Gods must have smiled on her three days ago. That was when he’d first walked under her scaffold, and she’d accidentally dripped her squeegee over the side of the scaffold from the next floor up. His arrogance had popped out immediately, directed right at her and her mistake.
“Hey! You up there! Pay attention to what you are doing! There are people down here you know!”
The irritable tones had slashed up at her through the crisp Boston air, causing her hackles to rise and goose bumps to break out on her skin. She peeped over the edge, her bright green eyes alight with mischief and curiosity, to see an irritated male face. The dark blond slashes of eyebrows were drawn together in an impatient scowl.
“You just dripped water on my new suit,” he told her in no uncertain terms, as if there wasn’t another store in the entire city of Boston that would carry another one.
“What a pity,” she mocked, her gamin grin registering exaggerated sorrow. “Sure and t’would be hard up you are if that’s the only suit you have to wear now, wouldn’t it?” She couldn’t resist her exaggerated Irish brogue.
It was obvious the man was anything but hard up and Chessy had disliked him on sight. People with money liked to throw their weight around. She liked nothing more than to prick their hot air balloons of pride and censure of their fellowman whenever she got the chance.
Today, the Gods had been merciful yet again. The same man was just walking away from her for the third day in a row—with a well-spattered suit. Life couldn’t get any better than this, she thought happily. Funny, even though he hadn’t said anything the last two days, she knew he was fuming. She shrugged her slender shoulders. She was at a loss as to why he kept coming back, and frankly, didn’t care. She had succeeded in aggravating the life out of him and she felt vindicated, although she would rather have gotten even with her skinflint grandfather. Since she couldn’t aggravate him, another man of wealth was the next best thing.
Chessy glanced down at her watch. It was almost noon. Time to close up for the day and meet Marsha, her best friend, at the Olive Garden for lunch. Whistling cheerfully, she lowered the scaffold and nimbly hopped off. It would be the end of the week before she finally got to the tenth floor, which was as high as the building went.
Working for Dunn’s window cleaners was interesting to say the least. She didn’t mind being up in the air at all and most certainly did not suffer from fear of heights. No, Chessy, short for Cheshire, was a Huntington, and Huntington’s knew no fear.
At least that’s what her spunky Irish grandfather had always told her.
She was even planning on making a parachute dive this summer, as soon as she could talk Marsha into going with her.
Quickly she jumped into her lime green Volkswagen beetle parked in the alley, and sped off, intent on making her lunch date. She totally missed the fact that she’d pulled out in front of a Lincoln town car.
Ty Anderson shook his blond head and watched the colorful vehicle disappear into traffic. The little Volkswagen began to weave in and out of the cars like a colorful butterfly flitting among the flowers.
It was that cheeky little window washer that kept dripping water on him each time he walked under the scaffold.
He supposed he could walk down the other side of the street, but he didn’t feel the need to go out of his way for a saucy little redheaded sprite with an attitude. He didn’t know why she seemed to have singled him out for her prankish gestures—he hadn’t noticed anyone else with water drops on their shoulders.
Not enough trips over a knee for a good paddling of her backside he supposed. Well, she’d better watch it if she knew what was good for her. If the right opportunity came up, he wouldn’t hesitate to flip her over his knee for a sound spanking!
Chessy had him dead to rights-until he kissed her!
When Cheshire Huntington realizes that Tyrone Anderson is the architect trying to get the old Odd Fellows Lodge in downtown Boston torn down, the fight is on. Chessy, as she is known to her friends, is a red-headed Irish sprite with a chip on her shoulder regarding wealthy people. The old lodge has memories for Chessy that she isn’t ready to let go of yet, and a health spa catering to the sinfully rich is a poor substitute for the historic building.
Tyrone Anderson isn’t about to let a cheeky little window washer who insists on dripping water on his new suit every morning from her scaffold get in the way of his new project. He’ll take the fight regarding the Odd Fellows Lodge to her if necessary. It doesn’t take Ty long to realize the little spitfire is hiding a painful secret. He wants to help her, but that’s easier said than done when she thwarts him at every turn until he’s ready to kiss her senseless or turn her over his knee!
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And for your reading pleasure, I have an oldie but goodie available for pre-order. This book hasn’t been available for years on the market! I’ve refurbished it and added a free chapter of my pirate story coming out in March at the end! It was originally published years ago as The Architect & the Window Washer.
Ty looked up and saw the incredulous face of the little window washer. She looked furious as she marched up right between the cars to face him from the other side of the car door.
“I was just…”
“You were trying to steal my stereo?” She faced him accusingly. A quick glance told her that her stereo was halfway out. “What are you? A kleptomaniac? Because you can’t be stealing for money.” She stared derisively at his expensive suit and watch.
“I was not stealing…”
“Don’t bother lying,” she scoffed, cutting him off again. “The evidence speaks for itself.”
Ty slammed the door shut, removing the barrier between her and him. “Do you ever stop talking?” he asked, his words like biting cuts in the evening air. “Because I’ve had just about enough of your mouth, little spitfire. Someone needs to teach you a good lesson in manners.”
Chessy looked up at him, the thought finally occurring to her that they were alone in the parking lot, and there was no one around to stop him from strangling her. She backed up a few steps, hating to back down, but she didn’t know whom she was dealing with here. He was obviously a thief, and a spy—he might be a murderer, for all she knew.
“D…don’t come any closer,” she replied, her voice wobbling suddenly. She held her hand out in front of her as if to ward him off. She squeaked when he grabbed it and pulled her in closer to him. “Let go of me…oomph.”
Ty wrapped his other hand in the long strawberry strands and bent to pillage the fruit of her delicate lips, holding her in place easily as she struggled. Finally, when she stilled, he looked down into her bemused green eyes. “Have I got your attention now?” Chessy was still mentally wading through a passion-drugged stream, struggling for a foothold. She didn’t have the ability to answer him. She had never been kissed like this before and her brain was still trying to catch up with her body’s reactions. She stared mutely up at him, wondering if he was going to strangle her now. She could see the headlines—woman strangled with no apparent struggle.
“Good. I can see that I have.” Ty answered his own question, but his hand had a slight tremor as he let go of her wrist to reach up and touch her silent lips. Never had a kiss shaken him up so much. He tried to push aside the unexpected desire to take her back to his home and into his bed. “I’m NOT a thief. Someone was breaking into your car and I interrupted them, that’s all.” He traced the outline of the soft pink protrusions and continued. “Nor am I the corporate spy that your overworking imagination has conjured up.”
He put his hand over her mouth when she opened it to finally speak. “I’m also a man who has come nearly to the end of his patience with you. My instincts right now are to turn you over my knee, bare your sassy butt, and spank the living daylights out of you.” Ty watched as her green eyes shot pure fire at him, but he continued, his hand still over her mouth. “However, this is not the time or the place. But mark my words, spitfire—it’s coming.”
He dropped his hand then and turned to walk away, feeling very confused with one heck of a bulge in his pants. He needed to put some space and distance between them. She was watching him as he started his car, looking as shell-shocked as he felt. “And next time, lock your car door because that’s going on the list of transgressions I’m going to take out of your backside,” he spat out his window as he drove off.
Chessy finally realized she was holding her breath, and she let it escape from between the lips he had so thoroughly ravaged. She lifted her fingers in silent wonder to touch them as she leaned against her car for support.
If this wasn’t a fine kettle of fish!
This man was the enemy, one of the wealthy and privileged, a sneak, and…and a bloody good kisser! She sighed and opened her car door. “Saints preserve us,” she muttered. “I think I’m falling for him.”
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