The Schoolmarm and the Deputy

Hi folks, I have a new western romance coming out on 26 December. It's a period piece about a feisty lady and a hunky cowboy/Deputy Sheriff, and it's sprinkled with spanking, sex, banditos and subterfuge ... Lovely cover reveal below.

His Lordship's Bride: a victorian tale of romance and domestic discipline

Cover reveal below, for this book which will be published December 26th. It's based on a novella I wrote a few years back, but this edition has a new title & cover and an extended story (42,300 words).

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A Prelude to Anal Sex...

#WIPitUP - 6th April 2016: A Prelude to Anal Sex... #BDSM #Spanking #Romance #Sci-fi


It's my first stint with WIP it UP Wednesday, and I'm delighted to say I've actually managed to finish one of my (far too many!) works in progress. So here we go ...

I'd like to share an extract from Claimed by Her Master. It's a novella of over 40,000 words and I had great fun writing it.

It's essentially a romance laced with kink and lashings of imagination re the sci-fi/fantasy elements, and should be live on Amazon this coming weekend.






This extract depicts Magnus spanking Vanessa's bottom, in what is a mutually enjoyable activity. Getting his woman warmed up is a prelude to what Magnus has planned for afterwards...


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"I'm going to make this pretty bottom glow like a ripe peach," he announced, and carried on spanking, first one side and then the other, and then both cheeks together, occasionally pausing to stroke and caress her heated skin.

Vanessa began to squirm in earnest as the spanks descended. He had abandoned his rhythm and now spanked randomly so she was unable to predict when the next one would land.

"Tease," she accused, with a kick of her legs.

"Naughty girl," he said, his voice thick with desire. Her bottom was colouring up beautifully now; the light pinks had deepened, and streaks of red began to glow on the surface. He paused to slip a finger between her splayed legs, and withdrew it coated with her juices. "Shall I tell you what I'm going to do with this nice red juicy peach of a bottom?"

"Bite it?"

"Oh that can be arranged." He leaned forward and ran his tongue over her lower curves, and then gently nibbled the full flesh of her buttock.

"Oh I like that!" she squealed.

"I can tell." He bit a little harder, making her squirm and yelp, and then delved between her legs once more. She was soaking wet. "But what I had in mind was something altogether different." He placed a lubricated finger against the tight dusky pink rosebud of her anus, traced a little circle against the puckered skin, and pressed gently.

Vanessa's eyes flew open. "There?! Oh!" Her face flushed as red as her bottom at this most intimate of invasions, and yet the thought of him touching her there... the feel of his probing finger was quite delicious and she was disappointed when he withdrew it.

"Get up on the bed, Vanessa. On your back. I want to see your face when I claim you this way," said Magnus. As Vanessa moved off his lap, he quickly shed his clothes.

Vanessa's chest heaved as she beheld the size of his erection. A finger up inside her was one thing ... but that? She gulped. "Um... I'm not sure ... that is, you're so big, Magnus!"

He answered her with a smouldering smile.

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Thanks, and please do visit the other participants of the WIP it UP Wednesday, blog hop.

Cover Reveal for new Sci-fi romance

Claimed by Her Master has just been completed and is scheduled to appear on Amazon on Friday 8th/Saturday 9th of April. :)

Here's the blurb and I'll be sharing some snippets later.

**********A new Sci-fi romance from #1 best-selling author Abigail Armani.

Felix Kazinsky is an eccentric scientist, a genius who has built a portal into a distant star system, home to a race known as the Amarans. Amara is a male dominated world where females are few in numbers, a world where females are prized and captured, bought and sold, and used in the pleasure houses of the north. Raids from the north are common, and Felix is tasked by the king to take his teenage daughter, Vanessa, back with him to keep her safe.

When Vanessa eventually returns to Amara she is reunited with Magnus Flyn, the handsome Commander of the king's guard, who claims her for his own. The chemistry between these two sizzles, but Magnus doesn't hesitate in putting his wayward woman over his knee for a much needed spanking. But Vanessa is headstrong, and her disobedience results in her being taken captive and taken to a secret location in the Great Desert to be the plaything of a mysterious man intent on subjecting her to an intimate examination and keeping her for his pleasure.

Will Magnus rescue her in time? How will he deal with the woman he loves? What will life be like with her as his bride...?

Filled with action and adventure, sex and romance, this imaginative roller-coaster of a book is a real treat for lovers of dominant men and their feisty females.

Publishers note: This book is intended for mature audiences as it contains corporal
punishment and scenes of a sexual nature.


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The Lighthouse Keeper - an erotic spanking romance work in progress

Delighted to be a part of WIP it up Wednesday. My work in progress is The Lighthouse Keeper.

This is a title that has been simmering away for weeks. I really must knuckle down and finish it! Perhaps I need the motivation of chocolate, or a spanking ...

Anyway, the story is a about a holiday romance between Katrina and Ben, the sexy as hell lighthouse keeper. Here's the opener. I hope you like it. And I hope I get round to finishing it!

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Ben headed towards the lighthouse, skirting the brimming rock pools, to walk along the sweep of damp golden sand, leaving a trail of damp footprints in his wake. The beach was strewn with shells, a myriad of pebbles, curling strands of green weed and other debris left by the outgoing tide. Most of the tourists had fled when the heavens opened, and now the beach was practically deserted except for those few who didn't care about getting wet and wind-blown.

The raucous cry of seagulls was carried on the breeze as they soared through the sky then glided slowly downward to skim the surface of the sea, some of them bobbing comically on the eddying waves. In addition to observing the antics of the gulls, Ben's keen eyes saw a figure crouching in the shallows. He paused, staring. Even at this distance he could see it was a woman, her sodden tendrils of long blonde hair twisting and fluttering as the wind caught them. He shrugged, then carried on, but when he next turned his head, he found it odd that she remained in exactly the same position.

She appeared to be hugging herself, frantically rubbing her arms as though she were cold. He fleetingly wondered how long she had been standing there in the water and why the hell she didn't just move out of it. The August afternoon had been bright and sunny prior to the rain, but the sun had now disappeared behind low grey clouds, and the wind was gusting keenly from the sea. Thinking that maybe she was in some sort of trouble, he changed direction and headed for the water's edge.

His instinct was right, for as he drew closer, he could see how pale and strained her face was, and he could hear her teeth chattering.

"Hi. Everything ok?"

Her long hair was plastered to her skull, escaped tendrils whipping her face, the ends floating around her shivering form. She was wearing a white bikini top, and he couldn't but help notice the outline of her nipples through the flimsy fabric that barely covered a pair of well rounded, nicely full breasts.

"Y-y-yes – I'm f-f-fine."

“Yeah? You don't look fine to me. Your lips are turning blue! Get yourself out of the water before you get hypothermia.”

“I-I'm just p-p-paddling,” she stuttered. “I'll be g-g-going soon.”

“Paddling? I don't think so.” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Come on, lady, out you come.”

She made a small movement as though she were about to reach out and take his hand, but then held back, shaking her head. "I c-can't. I can't come out of the w-w-water," she said, giving him a distressed look, her shoulders shaking with cold as she hugged her wet arms over her chest.

"Why not?"

"Um... well … b-b-b-because..."

"Because?"

"It's gone,” she wailed. I'm going to have to tell him.

“What has?” Geez, this woman is hard work.

“M-my bikini bottom."

Ben's reaction was instant. He guffawed loudly, a big booming laugh that exposed a row of gleaming teeth and crinkled the corners of his eyes. The woman glared at him, the faintest tinge of pink blushing her cheeks.

“Hah,” Ben spluttered. “Sorry, Miss Mermaid. I didn't mean to laugh at your... predicament.” His face broke into another grin as he mischievously darted a covert glance down into the murky water below her waist. Then the gentlemanly side of him kicked in. He shrugged off his battered leather jacket and held it out. “Here. Put this on. It's long enough to cover your, um … well, it's quite big,” he said lamely. “And it doesn't matter if you get it wet.”

She reached for it with shaking fingers and slid her frozen arms into the sleeves. “T-turn around while I f-fasten it.”

“Sure.” He obliged, listening to the lap of the waves as her cold fingers struggled with the zip.

“Need any help?”

"No," she snapped.

When he heard the zipper slide up, he turned. She waded towards him, sea water sloshing around her. Her blue-grey eyes were the colour of the sea, and there was an angry glint in them.

“Thank you very much-”

“Think nothing of it,” he interrupted. “Glad I could help.”

“I hadn't finished.” She glowered at him, her eyes reminiscent of leaden rain clouds. “Thank you very much for laughing at me, you toad.”

“What? Me – a toad?! That's not a very polite thing to say to the guy who rescued you.”

“It wasn't exactly a rescue,” she said dismissively. She was already barging past him, walking quickly over the sand. She paused in her tracks and turned to face him.” He was admiring her nice long legs. The jacket came to her mid-thighs... such delectable thighs they were too. “And anyway, I saw you peeking! That wasn't very polite either.”

“Hey, I stopped to help, didn't I? Gave you my best jacket.”

“Best jacket? This old stinky thing?” she retorted.

“Huh. My jacket does not stink. If you don't want it, hand it over.” He held out his hand. That's got her. She's run out of smart-assed remarks now.

“I'm keeping it.” Off she went again. He soon caught her up on his unfairly long legs.

“I didn't say you could keep it.”

“My need is greater than yours.” She stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn't caught hold of her arm. “Oh damn and blast! Bloody pebbles!”

“Where are your shoes, woman?”

“I had a pair of flip-flops but the damn things were washed out to sea.”

“Don't look at me like that. I'm not giving you mine.”

“I never asked for them. Anyway, you have feet like an elephant.”

Ben's eyes sparked and his palm began to itch. “First I'm a toad, then I'm accused of peeking and having a stinky jacket – which you appear to have stolen – and now I have feet like an elephant. Don't you have a good word to say about me?”

“No.” She strode on, cursing as the shale bit into her bare feet.

“Not even a thank you?” Miss Mermaid opened her mouth to retort … no doubt it would have been something rude... when she stumbled again and crashed into Ben. “Oh I've had enough of this,” said Ben. He grabbed her and hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “And now I'm a taxi service. You'll be getting a bill for my trouble.”

“Ohhhhh!” she shrieked. “Put me down! At once!”

“And let you cut those pretty little feet on the rocks? No, I don't think so.” He strode on, a smirk on his face as he held her tightly as she wriggled and kicked. “I'd be careful if I were you,” he warned, “it's not polite doing all that kicking when you haven't got any pants on.”

“Ohhhh!” she repeated, her face flaming with embarrassment. But she stopped kicking and kept her legs firmly together. “You insufferable man,” she muttered.

“If you say so,” he said cheerfully.

Miss Mermaid tried to maintain what shred of dignity she had left by keeping quiet for a minute or two. Though it was very hard to act dignified without any knickers on, and being jolted and bounced and generally tossed around over someone's shoulders. When she did speak it was to say, “Head towards the lighthouse.”

“I already am.” He shifted his burden slightly and began the ascent up a narrow path that led up to the cliff top.

She frowned at this. “Have you been spying on me?”

“No. Why should I do that?”

“Because you're heading towards the lighthouse, and that's where I'm staying.”

“Yes I know.” He soldiered on. Miss Mermaid seemed to grow heavier and heavier with every step he took up the incline. Was this a woman he had tossed over his shoulder or a small hippopotamus?

“What? You know? How the hell do you know that? See – you have been spying on me! I knew it.”

“Stop talking tripe.”

There was a silence. Then he felt her body shake. Poor thing. She must be freezing. “It's ok. We're almost there.” He struggled onwards and upwards, feeling the perspiration trickle from his brow. Was it really a woman he had hoisted over his shoulder, or a small hippopotamus? She seemed to be growing heavier by the minute. Then, to his surprise, the silence was broken by giggles. “Hey – are you actually laughing, Miss Mermaid?” She nodded her head and continued giggling. He rather liked the sound of her laughter. It was infectious. He found himself smiling in addition to sweating. Reaching the little path that led to the lighthouse cottage he set her down. “Ok. Share the joke. I want to know.”

“It's what you said. 'Don't talk tripe' – what on earth is that supposed to mean?” She looked at him, a smile on her face. He liked it, not only her smile, but her face, her legs, the windswept blonde hair and sea-blue eyes... everything about her.

“Beats me. It's something my Granddad used to say.” He grinned back at her. “I reckon it means something like stop saying silly things.”

“You northerners and your funny expressions.” She gave him a quizzical look, which changed to one of horror.

“What is it?”

“My key! Oh no – I left it on top of my flip flops. Shit!” she said crossly.

“Tsk, tsk, more bad language.”

“But you don't understand. I'm staying here for two weeks and I've lost my key.”

“Oh well, we'd best use mine then.” He delved into the back pocket of his jeans and produced it with a flourish. Miss Mermaid stared at it. Then she stared at Ben.

“I don't understand. How come you have a key to the lighthouse cottage?”

“I'm the lighthouse keeper – or was, it's all automated now but I still check in from time to time and do a bit of maintenance if needed. Come on, let's get you inside so you can change into some dry clothes, then I'll explain.”

Coming soon - A Taste of Loving Discipline

Well, it's taken a while to write, and at over 53,000 words it's fairly hefty, but I'm glad to announce that A Taste of Loving Discipline is now finished and is on schedule for publication next weekend.

Here is the opener. I hope it whets the appetite.

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June put down her brush and stared at the painting. “Hmmn, not bad, June. Not bad at all.” She took a few steps back and critically appraised her work. It looked even better from a distance. Pleased with her efforts, she absentmindedly reached up to secure an escaped tendril of long golden hair from her face, daubing a streak of indigo on her nose in the process. She smiled. The painting was almost complete and needed just a touch more colour on the dramatic skyline. She picked up her brush, ignoring the loud intrusive ring of the doorbell, and began to mix paint on her pallete.

The ringing persisted. With an exasperated sigh she put down her brush and made her way downstairs. Some moron must be standing with their finger on the bell. The top portion of the front door was bevelled glass and through it she could see the outline of someone's head and shoulders. If it was yet another salesman cold calling, he would soon be sent on his way for interrupting her work. She flung open the door, green eyes blazing.

“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?”

“He wasn't very good yesterday, but isn't too bad today. He's taking a nap. You probably woke him by ringing the doorbell,” she said accusingly.

“Oh well, he did ask me to call round at 2pm.”

“He's expecting you? He never mentioned it. What does he want to see you for?”

“Yes he's expecting me. I'll go up shall I?” the visitor said, making his way upstairs without bothering to wait for a response and deftly sidestepping her other question. He climbed the stairs effortlessly, two at a time and once he was at the top glanced round to see her following him, a cross expression clouding her face. “I've had a two and a half hour drive. A cup of tea would be lovely,” he said with a smile. “Milk. No sugar. If you please.”

June scowled at him and flounced back downstairs to the kitchen where she spent the next few minutes banging cups about and slamming the cutlery drawer so hard it almost flew off the hinges.

What was it about Alexander Stewart that she detested so much? He was one hellishly handsome guy, even she had to grudgingly admit that, with those intense blue eyes contrasting with dark brows and hair. Well defined bone structure and a chiselled jaw added to his visual appeal, along with a wide, sensual mouth. At 6ft 2 he stood tall and broad-shouldered in his expensively elegant suit, and he exuded charm and confidence. A lot of women would be bowled over by all that smouldering sex appeal. She thought he probably had a long queue of women clamouring for his attention, but he sure as hell wouldn't have June Jackson in his line up.

“He can go and boil his head,” she muttered as she took the teapot out of the cupboard and filled the kettle with water.

June Jackson had many admirable qualities. She was hard working and loyal, honest and reliable; she could be charming and witty, kind, considerate and compassionate - and since graduating three years ago with a degree in Fine Art from York University, had selflessly devoted her time to caring for her father who was battling Parkinson's Disease.

Then there were a few other qualities that were not quite so admirable. She could be impetuous, short tempered and obstinate, and she wasn't quite the selfless being she imagined herself to be. Because since Dad had formed a relationship with Gloria, June had become increasingly jealous of the woman whom she regarded as trying to usurp her own place in the household and in her father's affections. Dad had wanted Gloria to move in with them but June had dug her heels in. So for now, a temporary truce reigned. Gloria came round every evening and the three of them had dinner together, then June, conscious of 'three's a crowd' would take herself off out with friends or retreat upstairs to her 'studio' to paint or read – anything other than intrude on what remained of dad and Gloria's evening.

June was also as stubborn as a mule and would not be bullied into doing anything she didn't want to do. And that included marrying Alexander Stewart. It was her father's idea. He had made no secret about it and over the past few years had tirelessly remarked how they were remarkably well suited to each other and would make a perfect match. June had stamped about in outrage and refused to be part of a 'barbaric arranged marriage', telling her father in no uncertain terms to mind his own bloody business. She had no plans to marry, and if she should ever change her mind, she would marry someone of her choice. And that someone would most definitely NOT be Mr smart ass Alexander Stewart.

“Damn the man,” she muttered as she sneakily added a spoon of sugar into his tea. “There – drink that you smug devil,” she said as she stirred the liquid.

“Is that for me?”

“Oh!” June whirled round to find him right behind her, regarding her with that thoughtful and appraising look of his. “I didn't hear you come back downstairs. You sneaked up on me!”

“Did I?” he said smoothly. “Tsk tsk, you know I don't take sugar. I'd better pour that one down the sink.” He did so, then deposited three cups and saucers on a tray along with the teapot and a small jug of milk. “Your dad would like some biscuits. He says they are in the -”

“I happen to live here. I know where they are,” she growled, and reached up into the cupboard to retrieve the tin.

“We're in a bit of a snit today aren't we, Miss Prickly? You could do with a few lessons in good manners.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

There was something in that look that made June go weak at the knees. For a moment she found herself unable to speak as she rapidly tried to process the way she felt. A wave of something hit her full on … of what? Sexual attraction? Yes, maybe, she acknowledged reluctantly. But there was something more. And whatever that something was, she couldn't discern it; nor did she welcome it. And yet …

She pulled herself together. “I am neither 'in a snit' or prickly and I'm perfectly polite to people I happen to like.” There, that's told him. She flashed a gleeful smile.

He wasn't in the least phased by her cutting remark. “We'll continue this conversation some other time,” he said enigmatically. “Now come upstairs, your father wants to talk to you.”

“He can talk to me any time,” she objected.

“He wants to talk to both of us.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm his godson. Because I'm a close friend who cares about him. And because I'm also his solicitor. Now take that stubborn look off your face and stop acting like a petulant child.”

“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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Here we go - a nice sexy cover. Don't you just love chocolate?! (I do!)

Coming Soon - A Taste of Loving Discipline

Here's the beautifully sexy cover of a forthcoming release - A taste of Loving Discipline. It features June, a freelance artist. She has a choice of three men but opts eventually for Alex, a wonderfully dominant and intelligent man with whom she has been at loggerheads with for years!

In case you're wondering, she also gets to taste chocolate as well as a plentiful amount of loving discipline.

Coming Soon - Treasured Memories of a Disciplined Wife

Well, now that The Billionaire Cowboy has been put to bed (wouldn't it be nice to join him!) I'm working on a new release. This one is a bit different and has a retro feel. After all, domestic discipline isn't a current fad, it's been on the go for hundreds of years in various guises.

I've titled it Treasured Memories of a Disciplined Wife. The premise involves Daisy, a widowed old lady in hospital looking back on her life. Her treasured possession is an old photograph album, and each picture triggers a memory of her life with her beloved husband Frank. The narrative then takes the reader back into the past and we discover through a sequence of vignettes the stories associated with the various photographs. Some are poignant and nostalgic, others are amusing, and they all illustrate the relationship between Daisy and Frank. If you enjoy loving discipline, you'll love this book.

Here's the cover. The book will be available at the weekend. :)