It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind - A Taste of Loving Discipline

It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind. We females are so good at it. Some of us arrive at a decision (shoes, men, chocolate, clothes, which spanking implement to use … the list is endless) sure as sure can be that it's the right one. Then in mere seconds, or the next day, or week, or month, we change our minds. Fickle? Yes, and so what!

So why do we change our minds a lot? Could it be a defense mechanism we implement intuitively when our inner self thinks we might get emotionally hurt or get our hearts broken by some conniving louse with the ultimate goal of getting his hand inside our knickers? Maybe. Or maybe it's just the time of the month and hormones rampaging around.

And then there's the times we blow hot and cold, flip flopping around with abandon, giving the impression that we're not interested, when in fact we are but just don't want that certain someone to know it. Or maybe we ARE interested but don't want to admit it.

In my latest release, A Taste of Loving Discipline, June detests the handsome lawyer Alexander Stewart. He's her father's godson, so has been in her life for as long as she can remember – and she doesn't like him one bit. He goads her … irritates her. The two of them are constantly at war, sparring with each other. But eventually, she begins to change her mind about her feelings for him ...


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“Hello, June.” He smiled at her through a pair of vibrantly blue eyes, taking in her dishevelled appearance at a glance. Her golden hair was secured on the top of her head in a plastic clip, with escaped strands framing her face. She was wearing a snug fitting denim skirt and a paint-splattered blue smock over a black sweater. On her feet were a pair of canvas shoes, both daubed with blobs of paint. “You have a paint smudge on your nose.”

“Oh. It's you.” She bristled and reached up to rub the smudge away but only succeeded in making it wider, much to the undisguised amusement of the visitor. The insufferable man had the gall to grin at her. One brow arched in that infuriating way he had. It didn't matter that she thought of herself as a confident, poised, 24-year-old woman - he somehow made her feel like a gauche teenager on the defensive.

“Obviously. It's damned cold out here on the doorstep. Are you going to invite me in?”

“No. I'm busy.” She gave him one of her best glares and then stood aside as he barged past her and stepped into the hallway. He was already making himself at home by removing his jacket and hanging it on the coat stand at the bottom of the stairs. She fumed inwardly. What an irritating pig of a man.

The irritating pig of a man flashed a gleaming smile. “How's your dad?”


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And then one day, she crosses the line, and pushes him just that little bit too far. She calls him a very rude name!

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“What?! Stubborn? Petulant child? How dare you speak to me like that – you … you fat bastard!”

He did that thing with his right eyebrow again. It arched quizzically. “I'm neither fat nor am I a bastard. June Jackson, you are one bad mannered, jealous little madam. It's about time you started acting like an adult. You've been deliberately rude to me for years, and I've had enough.” He took a step closer – so close she could feel the warmth from his breath – and then he smiled seductively as he asked, “Do you recall I promised you a spanking last time you gave me a mouthful of sassy remarks?”

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