Donna, I appreciate you having me here more than you know. I am a writer of spanking fiction and I know that that is not something most of your readers are looking for or may even know much about. I would love for a few non-spanking enthusiast to read one of the Cassie books; I truly want to know what you think. There are many of us out here who fantasize about being in a relationship that includes spanking. While I realize this is totally foreign to many of you, think back to the famous scene in Gone with the Wind. No one in real life wants to be forced, rape essentially, but whose heart didn’t pound as Rhett carried Scarlett up the stairs into the darkness. The smile on her face the next morning was definitely part of what we fantasize about. For many spanking fantasies work the same way.

There is great love and humor in the Cassie stories. Tom does spank Cassie, usually for fun and their mutual enjoyment, but also for discipline. Oops, I think I just lost some of you! The spanking is consensual – perhaps not at the very moment it occurs, but Cassie will be the first to tell you she has fully consented, and there is not one thing about her life that she would change.

The Cassie books can easily be read out of order. Maybe you’ll try this one, Cassie’s River Living. In this book, Cassie actually explains her theory of why spanking works for her and Tom. Come on, no one will even know you read it… unless you’re willing to tell me what you think of it. Good or bad, I’d really like your thoughts. You can reach me at pk.corey@yahoo.com

Donna thanks again for having me here.

Blushing Books,  Amazon,   Barnes & Nobles

Blurb for Cassie’s River Living

Cassie and Tom are happily settling into River living. Cassie is sure this peaceful setting is enough to keep her out of trouble, but with Sue living there too, staying out of trouble proves just too difficult.

Cassie is further concerned about what relationship advice Tom may be giving Ryan. Overheard conversations and statements from Ryan has her worried that Tom may have shared ideas of adult spanking in his advice to Ryan. But when it seems Allie knows too, Cassie realizes she is going to have to try to explain things more fully. Can Cassie explain their way of life to eighteen-year-old Allie?

 Excerpt:

Annie and I were looking through our movies to choose one for the afternoon when Sue said, “Get your drinks girls, I have the movie. Are you two ready for a little adult entertainment?”

“What have you got now?” I asked, in amusement.

Sue laughed and shook a DVD box at me. “Go ahead, I’m for anything Tom wouldn’t want me doing.” Now Tom and I hadn’t exactly discussed X-rated movies, but I assume it was under the blanket of, ‘If you wouldn’t do it if I was standing here – don’t do it’ rule. But really, what was the harm? We were home, it was just the three of us, and we weren’t in a sleazy little theater with dirty old men.

Now you have to know at my age I’ve seen a blue movie or two – but admittedly not many in the past forty years. I want to tell you – things have changed. With a few false starts and figuring out the buttons, Sue managed to get the afternoon entertainment rolling.

Oh my stars and garters! I think the three of us sat there in stunned paralysis. You know I’m no prude, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect to see such things on the big screen. We watched for a relativity short time before I had seen way more than I needed to.

“Sue! Turn this mess off!” As soon as I spoke, it was like the evil spell had been broken and we were able to move. Sue began stabbing at the remote and managed to stop the movie.

“What was that?” I asked in a shaky voice. “How awful! I think I need a shower.”

“I had no idea,” Sue admitted. She was just as shocked as Annie and me. “I just thought it was going to be… well I don’t know what I thought it was going to be – but not that.”

“Shoo…get that out of my house,” I demanded. “And don’t put it in the trash, bury it. If Tom or Steve sees that, we’re dead. Did you rent it or what?”

“It was on the used movie table at the video place. I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“And who checked you out that day?” I started laughing. “I’m not going back there with you. Those kids in there are probably talking about what an old pervert you are. They’ve probably told half the town what kind of movies the Moore’s are watching at night,” I continued to tease.

“They are not!” Sue shouted back at me. “I bet they didn’t know what it was either.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” I told her chuckling. “Kids know everything.”

I love tormenting Sue, but as Annie and I continued to harass her about her movie choice and about the fact it was probably being broadcast all over town, she stormed out of the room and we gleefully trouped after her to keep it up, completely forgetting to remove the offending DVD from the machine. Sigh…

~o~

I suppose none of our memories is all that great because as we came back up to watch Casablanca that night with the boys, it never once crossed my mind. We were getting settled. Tom was fixing us some drinks. Andy was looking at one of the remotes seeing how everything worked when he evidently pushed start or resume or something. All I know is that suddenly in front of God, Tom, and everyone was the scene that had so horrified us earlier that day. Wide screen – bigger than life. Both Sue and I had our backs to the screen as it began. I saw Annie’s horrified look and frantic pointing as I heard Andy’s, “What the hell?”

Reality dawned quickly on both Sue and me as we each turned and leaped from opposite sides at the remote. All we managed to do in that first frantic leap was knock the remote to the floor, and out of our immediate reach, and hit our heads together so solidly that you could have heard the crack down stairs. Grabbing my head with one hand, I continued to scramble after the remote. Sue and I managed to grab it at the same time and frantically began pushing buttons as I heard Tom roar, “Turn that off!”

I couldn’t even see the buttons, we were just madly pressing anything in the hopes of stopping what was happening. We did manage to hit something that caused it to begin playing in fast speed – trust me that did not help.

We were still trying when the remote was grabbed out of my hand and Tom clicked off the offending video. The silence that ensued was immediate and complete. I didn’t dare look at Tom. Steve finally broke the silence with, “What the hell was that?”

No one chose to answer him and the silence grew once again. Then Tom spoke, “Cassie, where did that come from?” I stole a quick glance at him. His face was quite stern and I didn’t hold his gaze long. He towers over me enough when I’m standing, but sitting on the floor made him appear like a mountain. I don’t know why I was feeling so guilty – I hadn’t brought the darn thing in.

Sue and I have no problem throwing each other under the bus when necessary, but I was hesitant for some reason. Without planning it, we both turned in unison and stared at Annie. She was having none of it.

“Uh-uh. Don’t look at me. I had nothing to do with this,” she exclaimed.

“Fine, fine – it was me,” Sue admitted. “Shoot me already. I didn’t really know what it was.”

First let me say I’m not normally a “cowboy” romance fan (I go for Navy SEALS) that said, I had to rethink my entire stance when I read Willow Springs. But that’s not what this is, though I thought so going in.

Our heroine, Crissa is a strong, independent woman who has had to learn to look after herself and that always pulls me into a story. She is reinventing herself following a tragedy that she has shared with no one and is unaware that she is being trailed by a bounty hunter. I love that she doesn’t need a lot of male “assistance” to make her life work.

Enter Drake the Pony Express rider and Garth the miner.

I thought this was going to be an easy love triangle. I knew immediately who I was rooting for, but Carolyn didn’t go for the simple. Her characters are complex and multi-dimensional to the point that I wasn’t sure myself who I wanted to prevail once I got to know them. I couldn’t be sure which was the “good” guy, and I liked that I was kept guessing. But that’s only part of the story – I didn’t see the mystery coming, and didn’t have it figured out when it happened. No spoilers, but I love a delish twist in what I read, and there were several in here. Kick back and enjoy this one!  I sure did.

Excerpt –

“Would you look’a there,” Myrtle Thompson said, nodding toward the door as a young man raced past on horseback.

“That’s not!” Ethel gasped.

“Oh, yes it is,” Agnes chimed in. “That’s the Bateman boy.” Agnes clucked her tongue. “And with his wife still in confinement.”

“He’s up to no good, I tell you,” Doris said. “It’s shameful.”

Ruth and Mary bobbed their heads in agreement. “Indeed. Shameful.”

Cringing at the cackles coming from the dining room, Crissa peered through the kitchen doors to where the Thompson sisters dominated the near corner of the room. That table was their table—on the last Thursday of every month, anyway. There wasn’t anything special about this table except that it sat in the corner between the kitchen and the stairway and had a direct view to the front door on the opposite wall. Any comings and goings, and eatings for that matter, were thoroughly scrutinized by the ladies of this table. The unused bar was also within their line of sight, and gentlemen of proper upbringing made sure not to duck behind the bar to refill their flasks if “the sisters” were present.

“Wicked gossips,” Marida whispered. Her simple English was laced with a thick Italian accent. “They usually gone by now. Must be waiting for miners come in.”

For Crissa’s two weeks in Willow Springs, Henders Inn had been mostly quiet, save for the few bachelor shopkeepers who took their meals here. The stagecoach had come in earlier in the evening, depositing four guests for an overnight stay. In the middle of trying to situate the travelers, the Thompson sisters had arrived for their monthly gossip fest, and to give Crissa a collective looking over. The potatoes weren’t quite as fluffy as usual, it seemed. The corn bread was too gritty, the meat loaf drier than they had remembered it—even the green beans were stringy until Molly informed the sisters that Marida had done all of the cooking, same as usual.

It didn’t seem to matter that Crissa smiled extra friendly or spoke extra politely. She was met with frowns and turned up noses from “the sisters’ table.”

“Don’a you worry,” Marida tried to reassure Crissa. “They see you not after their husbands, they like you fine.”

Husbands. Crissa had to suppress a shudder at the thought. If I had wanted a husband, I would have stayed in Boston. The last thing she wanted was to get involved with any of the men in the town. Indeed, Crissa considered Willow Springs to be the nearest thing to her idea of purgatory. It was dry and desolate—nothing like the bustling city of Boston or the rich farmland of Uppsala. She certainly did not plan to stay here long.

“Miners?” Crissa asked. “Why will the miners be coming?”

“Is payday. They come for dinner on way to Ely.” Marida gave Crissa an exaggerated wink. “Are sporting women in Ely.”

“How many will be coming?” The thought of more strange faces to watch made Crissa edgy.

“Depends on if miners more hungry or more . . .” Marida winked again.

Gasping at Marida’s boldness, Crissa turned back to study the guests in the dining room. “We do not have many tables left tonight.”

“No worry,” Marida informed her. “When miners come, many these people will leave.”

“Why? Do they not like the miners?”

Laying her finger alongside her nose, Marida gave Crissa a sidelong glance. “Today payday at mine. You watch out for them. They no gentlemen.”

“But, Marida, surely—”

“You listen. You watch out.”

* * * * *

Born and raised in Utah, Carolyn Steele was introduced to western novels at a very young age by her grandfather, the son of a gold miner. She has been writing technical and marketing communications for most of her adult life. Her nonfiction articles have appeared in numerous national magazines. She earned her undergraduate degree in Communications from the University of Utah.
Married and living in Salt Lake City, Utah, Carolyn loves researching obscure history then weaving it into stories. She also enjoys family dinners with her children and grandchildren, photography, travel, golf, reading, and all forms of needlework. (And with the good sense to get into a Steele family, you know she’s on the ball!)

Check it out on: Amazon
Goodreads
Deseret News Review

I received a complimentary copy of “Willow Springs” direct from the publisher Sweetwater Books (imprint of Cedar Fort, Inc) in exchange for an honest review. I did not receive compensation for my opinions or thoughts shared herein.

I’m being roasted today over at Author Roast and Toast !  Please stop by for the fun.

Twenty-Five??

It’s scary when your baby turns twenty-five. In the first place I’m not nearly old enough (mentally) to have this happen. In the second, she has her own place in a different city and thinks she’s grown. Just because I thought I was grown at twenty-five is no reason for her to. I was wrong, so is she!

Okay, she may be twenty-five but this is the way I remember her. She looked like a red dandelion at times and could fly off just as quickly. But she loved her big brother and was always busy charging after him or finding something to do . . .    And always so helpful – must come in handy on those theater sets  Happy Birthday Samantha Honeycutt – My Baby Girl!