WIP It Up Christmas Eve.

Merry Christmas one and all.  

As a holiday treat, I'm sharing the opening to my upcoming release, the long awaited sequel to Marshal's Law.  

This is Heath Jackson's story.  Join me as I harken back to Laramie, Wyoming.  1878.  This is eldest son Heath Jackson's story.  Hurt and humiliated by a woman in the past, he's decided love and marriage aren't for him.  He sticks to the safe women in town, worldly-wise widows or the ladies who are willing to spend time with him without expecting more at the end of the night.

Aaron can see to carrying on the Jackson name.  A confirmed bachelor, Heath enjoys working his families ranch.  That all changes when Jenny Harper, a family friend keeps getting herself into one scrape after another.  What's a man to do, except bail the curvy redhead out and take her over his knee when the need arises.

Official blurb, cover and release date coming soon.  For now, enjoy an excerpt from Jackson's Justice, Book 2 in my Silverbend Ranch Series. 

Isn't it nice that Heath and Aaron are spitting
 images of each other?  That way we get to look
at Joe again, my inspiration for both Aaron
            of book 1, and big brother Heath of book 2.
<heavy, appreciative sigh>

A wealth of her red-gold hair glimmering like a fall sunset drew his eye.  The body beneath it garnered his attention as well.  As she walked up the main aisle, Heath Jackson perused the woman openly from his seat near the back.  An unusual mix of reds and gold, shot through with an occasional strand of reddish brown—akin to copper—her hair was nothing like he’d ever seen before.  It was gathered high at the back of her head in a clip that barely contained the bounty and allowed several long springy tendrils to escape.  He imagined it was breathtaking when falling loose around her shoulders.  His fingers burned to release the high knot, spear into the mass and finger comb the glossy curls that would surely reach to her lower back, or beyond to her pert little bottom.

Despite the small bustle on her dress, he could discern a narrow waist, curvy hips and what he imagined was a sweetly rounded bottom.  He’d developed quite an imagination when the despicable birdcages had come into fashion and hid on of his favorite feminine features from view.  At least he no longer had to try to determine a woman’s shape beneath one of those awful hoop skirts.  

As the woman moved along, she nodded at folks, pausing every now and again for a brief word or to clasp hands.  Near the front, she leaned over to hug an elderly woman who was too frail to stand.  The position pulled her skirt tight across her hips and Heath nearly swallowed his tongue.  Images of the beauty bent over with her bottom bared for him flooded his mind. 

Without benefit of the skirt and whatever fripperies she wore beneath, he would guide her curvy body over one of the benches.  Naked, her bare bottom upraised, she would tremble ever so slightly in anticipation. Stretching forward, she’d reach toward the bench seat, her breasts swaying freely, the glorious mass of her Titian hair tumbling over her shoulders and onto the cushions, spreading out like a fan.

She would strain toward the floor, her toes pointed downward, just out of reach.  As she balanced precariously, he would enjoy teasing glimpses of the sweet treasure that lay between her thighs, the glistening pink flesh framed by a perfect thatch of red-gold curls.

Breathless and eager for that first touch, for the fervent kiss of his hard palm on her rounded behind, she would whimper softly through her plump, parted lips. 

Ever gracious, he wouldn’t make her wait. 

Beginning low on the back of her silken thigh, he’d run his hand slowly upward, gliding over the rounded hills of her bottom cheeks.  His fingertips grazing along the cleft of her bottom, would dip inside to test her wetness and heat.

As she trembled in response, his purpose would come back to him.  A long time in coming, she had earned this spanking for teasing him, flirting outrageously, holding herself away from him and building his need to a fever pitch.

Unable to wait any longer, his hand would rear back, returning swiftly to connect with a smarting crack across her pristine behind.  A sharp intake of breath echoing off the walls would come back to them as she flipped her hair out of her face.  She would turn to him, her beautiful face flushed, brilliant green eyes wide as a plea came from her plump parted lips...

Fantasy became reality in that moment as the redhead turned and he saw her brilliant green eyes, which seemed to gaze straight at him.



I wish I had a buy link for you, hurry Mr. Publisher, please...   Believe me, I'm as impatient as you.   


Get an early start and hop around the blog, relax with some sexy excerpts before the gifts, food and chaos of the holiday begins.  Enjoy.