From the Author…
Hi, and thank you for having me here today and letting me talk about Holly’s Christmas Dom, my latest book from Evernight Publishing.
This was originally published elsewhere as a much shorter and less intense story. When the publisher in question closed down, I kept getting a niggle that now was my chance to rewrite and lengthen Holly and Mac’s story and show how they decided where their relationship was going—if anywhere.
Do they end up ad they both want? You’ll have to buy the book to find out.
Winters’ Tales, 1
Holly and Mac have been close friends for years, but never had the chance to get together. Now it’s time.
When Mac shows Holly what he wants and needs—her as his sub—it’s up to her to decide whether to accept him and his lifestyle. She’s waited for Mac for years, but never expected such an ultimatum.
Mac knows Holly’s the one for him. He’s sure she’s a sub—his sub—no one else’s. It’s up to him to show her that.
When they play together for the first time, both of them have to decide—is it for keeps? Or do they part ways when the fun is over?
Be warned: light BDSM, spanking, sex toys
Her jaw dropped and so did her gaze at the smoldering and oh so dominant look he’d given her.
Mac had stood in her hallway and told her starkly, “Holly, you know I want you. I have for years, and now’s the time to ask if you want me.” Her heart leaped, but before she had the chance to reply, he added, “It would be no straightforward relationship. In many ways, I’m not straightforward. I have very definite ideas about what I want from you. You need to think if you want to know what they are.” She’d opened her mouth to ask questions, and he’d stopped them with a kiss that made her toes curl. When he stood back, she’d just stared.
“Dominant, Holls. Think about it. If you want me, you’ll submit to me. I’ll be back, and we can talk. Read this please. Have faith.” He handed her an envelope and left, leaving her standing, wide-eyed, looking at the open door. That had been it.
Until tonight, when she’d glimpsed him across the village green, she still hadn’t believed him. Even after she’d opened the damned envelope and seen his handwriting, she hadn’t dared think of him in a positive way. Because how could she? After reading his ideas, what he needed from her, and not knowing if it was in her to do as he demanded, Holly had worried herself into not sleeping. He wouldn’t come back and ask her. If he did, she couldn’t say yes. Or could she? His demands made her itch to come, except there in the letter it said,
“If you are thinking in any way positive about this, you do not come until I say so. Your climax belongs to me.”
Even if she thought she might agree, she had no faith he would seek her out or that she truly was who he wanted. But she didn’t make herself come.
Now he was here and it was make-your-mind-up time. Her stomach jitterbugged as she drank in his image. Mac. Maybe soon-to- be her Mac. Her lips still tingled from his kiss—the rest of her just tingled.
“Holly, I’ve wanted you ever since you turned from the long- legged skinny kid who whined when Noel and I went off and did boy things into this stunning teenager with curves. A body to drool over and an ass I want to paddle. For all the right—or wrong—reasons.” He stopped speaking and took a mouthful of wine.
His swallow made her mouth dry up. That simple movement, the way his throat moved, and the play of his muscles, was so erotic her skin heated, and her senses went into high alert.
Hell, I have it bad if a simple swallow makes me think of sex. Of him swallowing me, me swallowing him, and—oh shit, I do have it bad.
Mac cleared his throat. So caught up in the moment, Holly realized she’d missed what he’d said.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “I was miles away. So you’re going to explain what you want? I’m ready to hear. I…” She hesitated. “To be honest, Mac, I’m interested, but I’m not sure I can be what you want. I’m no subservient. I like to be in charge. Hell, if I didn’t, I’d never have left the village. I’d still be here, working for Mr. McKenzie as his typist. Not even a secretary or PA. Instead, I run my own recruitment agency in the city, have staff, and I’m happy.”
“Are you? Really?” he asked, his eyes more than curious. “I’d say that is only one small part of you.”
Holly decided she now knew the meaning of the expression “looked into your soul.” Her body was scorched by that look, her mind playing hopscotch as it jumped from one thought to another. She couldn’t help it—she squirmed.
“Happy? I’m not so sure you are,” Mac said in a definite manner. Even though his voice was low, the ring of sincerity and authority was clear. “Not missing something in your life? I think you are. That indefinable spark has gone from you, Holly. I can provide it if you want. However, you need to be sure. Very, very sure. I’ll stretch you, demand things of you that you didn’t think you were capable of doing.” He lowered his voice even more. “But in return, you’ll learn how to fly. And we will be partners.”
“You say that now, Mac, so define the partnership.” She needed it spelled out. “Because how can you dominate me if are we equals? To me, that’s a very unequal partnership.”
Mac lifted one hand in the air and his fingers splayed in what Holly decided was frustration with her.
Well, tough. I need to understand.
“No, Holly, that’s where you’re wrong. Okay, maybe some people want that, but the whole point of this is it will be our relationship. Ours,” he stressed. “Designed by us, for us. There is no one-scene-fits-all here. I’d say ask ten couples what a Dom-sub relationship means to them, and you’ll get fifteen different answers. But in each and every one, unless they specify differently, the sub is in charge every time. She or he calls the shots. Didn’t you read my letter?”
“Yes, but…” Holly stopped talking as he put a finger over his own lips, and then moved it to hers.
“Shh, you always did talk too much. There are so may other things that gorgeous mouth could be doing.”
Holly had never before heard such determination in his voice. Oh shit. Her clit did the samba, and her pussy joined in at the pictures that rushed into her mind. She pushed them away and concentrated on what Mac was saying—or tried to. It wasn’t easy when all she could see was a naked Mac bending over her and… No, no. Stop it already.
“Will you hear me out? Please? Without interrupting?” he asked. Only the faint shake of the finger over her mouth showed how tense he was. Otherwise, he could have been asking her to make a cuppa. “Then you can ask anything you want.”
She nodded, and he lifted his finger far enough for her to speak. “Okay, but I’m not saying I’ll agree with anything,” she said in a rush as her words tumbled over each other. “And if I have questions after, you promise you’ll answer them?”
He looked shocked. “Ah, Holls, of course I will. As well as show you anything you need a demonstration of.”
That was what she was worried about. What if she didn’t like the demonstrations? What if she did? His short descriptions of what he liked had her cream gathering and would have resulted in several sessions with her vibrator if he hadn’t demanded that she not come. As it was, she was frustrated and jumpy. Holly wasn’t a total innocent. Her experience with a hot male body might be almost nonexistent, but her experience with her purple friend wasn’t. Carol might have Verne, but she had Roger the Rabbit. Or she had until Mac’s letter. Poor Roger was now sadly neglected.
“Yes, well, we’ll see. Okay, Mac, go for it.”
Well what can I say?
I’m growing old disgracefully and loving it.
Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.
Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so to speak.
I write in my study, which overlooks the garden and the lane. I’m often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I’m not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.
Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.