THE TRAINING HOUSE: GIRL By Eden Bradley ~ Cover Reveal

THE TRAINING HOUSE: GIRL

Book One

By Eden Bradley

Available September 15, 2015

In those breathless moments between pleasure and pain lie the most poignant truths…

I have signed myself over to The Training House: my devotion, my obedience, my body. It is what I have always yearned for—to lose myself in powerlessness. To be made to. But this place is more than anyone could possibly prepare for, especially the Master of the House. He is too stunning, too commanding, bringing out a yearning for submission in ways I have never imagined, and I am lost in nearly unbearable desire.  He uses my body until he brings me to tears, then tenderly wipes them away, enslaving me to him instantly, body and soul. I cannot imagine existing without him, without his wicked touch, his strict and sensual command…
Until I meet another slave, and he changes the game of kink for me forever. How can I decide what my heart wants most, without risking losing it all?


WARNING:: These books contains material that may be difficult to read about and/or cause triggers for some readers, including consensual non-consent and other scenes that could be disturbing. Do NOT try this at home!


 The Contract:  

The Training House Contract and Agreement for Servitude

Terms of Agreement

I, ______________________, being of sound mind and body, do hereby agree and pledge myself in entirety as personal slave and property to The Training House as the Master of the House sees fit to use for a period of one year, to commence on _________ and to end on _________. I do this without reservations or stipulations, and without recourse or right of revocation. I have been informed and understand that I will not be harmed or have any permanent damage done to my body or mental well-being, nor shall any of my personal property be subject to ownership or use by The Training House, its Master, or any associates. I pledge under the terms of this contract my body, my obedience and my deep desire to serve.

I understand and agree to all terms within this contract. Terms are as follows:
1)   I will remain naked while within The Training House or other outside facilities the Master of the House may visit or send me to.
2)   I may be sent to outside locations and/or lent to other Masters, Mistresses or Trainers at the Master’s discretion. I pledge the same obedience to them as I do to The Training House under the terms of this contract.
3)   I will be collared, cuffed, shackled or bound by any variety of means as the Master of the House or his associates see fit. Restraints will always be used in a safe manner.
4)   I may be subject to piercings of the nipples and/or genitalia, to be performed only by a licensed piercer, including the Master himself.
5)   I will be subject to branding with the house crest only if it is agreed upon by both parties at the term of this contract or any future existing contract that I remain in permanent service to The Training House.
6)   I will be subject to sadomasochistic activities at the discretion of the Master and his associates, including various types of impact, impalement and use of any orifice for pain or pleasure, electrical stimulation, canes, whips, and implements which may scratch and/or open the skin. Any bleeding, open wounds or heavy bruising will receive appropriate medical attention by the House nurse or attending EMT.
7)   I will be subject to humiliation, degradation, loss of personal identity. 
8)   I will have no rights as an individual, or freedom to make decisions. 
9)   I will remain silent unless commanded to speak.
10)               I will accept without question or resistance any and all punishments or discipline the Master of the House or his associates deems necessary or desirable.
11)               I am charged to learn all the ways in which I may please the Master of the House and his associates.
12)               I will have no control over my orgasms, which will be given or denied at the whim of the Master of the House or his associates. I agree to never pleasure myself, saving my pleasure for the Master’s use.

I hereby certify that I am in excellent health, and had my last medical exam on ______. Paperwork to verify the state of my health will be supplied upon signing this contract. I furthermore agree that I may be subject to medical examination and treatment for my safety and for the safety of those I come into contact with, or purely for the Master’s pleasure. I also have supplied information regarding possible personal triggers any of the above activities might prompt. The Master agrees to ensure my body is kept in good health by means of diet, rest and exercise.

If at any time before the end of the contracted period the Master of The Training House is not pleased with my performance, obedience, ability to give pleasure or to endure his preferred treatment of me, he may decide to revoke this agreement, at which time I am released from the terms of this contract.

I affix my signature willingly and without any duress or under any threat of harm.

______________________ 
Slave’s legal name  

______________________
Slave’s signature

______________________
Date

______________________
Master’s legal name  

______________________
Master’s signature

______________________
Date

______________________
Witness  

______________________
Witness signature

______________________
Date


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EXCERPT:

878 words-opening R-rated (language)
© Eden Bradley 2015

He walks into the room and I don’t know where to look, what to do with my hands, what to say. Of course, I’m not supposed to say anything, am I? But even if I could—even if I dared—he is simply too overwhelmingly beautiful.
I didn’t expect it—didn’t expect him. My bare feet shift on the soft Persian rug, the wood floor beneath creaking like a quiet sigh of pleasure. Taking in a quick, gasping breath, I inhale the scents of aged wood and plaster, the papery smell these old San Francisco Victorians have. Scent and sound were all I knew until a moment ago, when someone removed the blindfold from my eyes. I know the city I’m in, but not where, exactly. I am not supposed to know. And now I know what the man I have been sold to looks like. My new Master. The man I would have served with deep devotion simply because he owns me, because this servitude is what I want—what I need—but who now is making me dizzy with indescribable lust and expectation.
He must be six-foot-four, with broad shoulders under a dark blue button-down shirt. European tailoring—the shirt fits his shoulders and his narrow waist too perfectly to be anything else, which I recognize right away from my time in Italy, Spain and London with my previous owner. A small stabbing ache in my chest at that thought, but I focus on the shirt, on the man before me, and the pain drifts, fades away. 
His sleeves are rolled up, revealing strong forearms. There is a tattoo of a Japanese style dragon curling around his right arm—a symbol of power, which suddenly, inexplicably, seems funny to me, if only because this man’s power seeps from every pore and needs no sign of proof. I let out a small, stupid giggle. Unable to help it. Helpless. Perhaps that’s why the giggle.
Helpless. Yes.
Or perhaps because the giggle is more from relief, the knowledge that my desire for pain, for punishment, will soon be sated.
He raises one dark brow over eyes that gleam like pure, blue fire in the dim light of the room. His voice is a low threat. Upper class American accent. “You find me amusing, girl?”
Girl. Is that to be my name in this place? Not Aimée? Why does that frighten me so when this is everything I’ve asked for? To be rendered invisible in a way I choose. 
A flash of my father, his back turned to me. How many times did that actually happen, and how much of it is purely symbolic, when in fact, I hardly ever saw him? But I don’t want to think of all that now. I am here to forget. To forget my past. To forget myself. To immerse myself in this powerlessness that is of my choosing.
Still, it occurs to me for one moment, sharp with the edge of panic, that maybe I should have read the contract more carefully before I signed it.
“Speak up,” he demands.
“No, Sir.”
“Nerves?” There’s a long pause—long enough to make me feel the truth of what he’s suggested down to my toes, in my belly, in those dark, dark recesses of my mind that brought me here to begin with. 
“Of course you’re nervous,” he goes on. “If you weren’t I’d send you back. I don’t take foolish girls. I don’t take a lot of things, but you’ll find out about that soon enough.” He steps closer and even his earthy, spicy, elegant scent frightens me, partly because he smells so good I want to drop to my knees before him—need to—which scares me half to death. “What I will take…is you. Whenever I want. I will do whatever I want to you. And any time you doubt why you’re here I will find a way to remind you. I will remind you through pain. Through denial. Through darkness. I will remind you by giving you exactly what you asked for when you agreed to come to my house. The Training House never fails its…victims.”
I’m shaking now, my legs trembling so hard they’re about to go out from under me, and then I will be on my knees, like it or not. I will like it, which I already know. I am also drenched with desire, my pussy slick and pulsing, which should not be surprising, but it is. Every single detail about this moment is shocking to me.
He steps closer and I look up at his face, knowing this may be the last opportunity I’m allowed. And God, his eyes are so, so blue—midnight blue, eyes like I’ve never seen before. His hair is dark and the slightest bit unruly. His jaw and cheekbones are sharply cut, as if from stone, and his mouth is both lush and cruel. I want to touch it, with just my fingertip. I don’t dare even think of kissing him. Oh, but I am a liar; I do think of kissing him. I think of that mouth between my thighs. 
Neither of those things is likely to happen in this place.
Torture.
Torture already, and I’ve just gotten here.

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LINKS:
My website book page: http://edenbradley.com/books/the-training-house-book-one-girl/ 
Website: www.EdenBradley.com 
Group blog: http://www.smutketeers.com/ 
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/edenandeve/ 
Twitter: https://twitter.com/EdenBradley 
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorEdenBradley.EveBerlin 
My Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Eden-Bradley/e/B001IQUL8G/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1 

Bridget's Phantasies By Izzy Szyn ~ RELEASE DAY SPOTLIGHT

Bridget's Phantasies 

By Izzy Szyn

BLURB:

Bridget Parker has worked for Scott Davis' company Davis Industries for the past six months. Her life up until now has not been an easy one. Her mother was a drug addict that always chose men and drugs over her daughter. Bridget is summoned to Scott's office unexpectedly. When she arrives she is in for a shock when she sees her mother sitting in the office.
Her mother had used Bridget's credentials to log in and embezzle funds from Scott's business accounts. She offers Bridget's services in exchange for them dropping the charges.
Scott and his head of security Nick have more than a working relationship. They also like to share women. It was well known around the company that women came and went very quickly. Most of them tried to go after Scott and his money. 
Bridget had seen them in the elevator and wanted them ever since. She even had named her favorite vibrators after them. When her mother embezzles from Scott's company she knows that her fantasy of being with them will never happen. But Nick and Scott are not going to let her go that easily.

Amazon Buy Link

DARK LASHES By Felice Fox ~ SPOTLIGHT

DARK LASHES

 By Felice Fox 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

BLURB:

When Talia Iverson’s never-ending search for love takes a desperate turn, she skips out on her Hollywood starlet clientele hoping to disappear on her uncle’s ranch in western Montana. Training livestock guard dogs seems the perfect diversion—protect the wolf pack living on Iverson Ranch, and her uncle’s cattle. But when a son of their neighboring ranch suspiciously offers to help her track and ID the wolf pack, Talia discovers what it really means to tangle with a predator.

Rancher Abel Cameron is the most dangerous kind of bad boy—when he’s wicked, he means it. Convinced the shared, open relationship he’s in is the only kind that will tolerate his dark sexual needs, Abel knows he won’t ever be the primary man in any woman’s life. But when Talia Iverson shows up to protect the wolf pack denned up on his neighbor’s ranch, he sees her for who she is—a lost soul who could break open his cold, jammed up heart. And he’s just reckless enough to show her how to do it.

Amazon  .  iBooks

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Excerpt: 

© Felice Fox 2014

They rode north for an hour toward the timber, following the river, then turned west and ascended into the mountains. It wasn’t long before Abel spotted the hunter orange ribbon Uncle Cal had left as a marker on a low branch and easily located the tracks in dried mud. Abel swung down from his horse and got to Talia just as she was sliding off. His hand rode up her sides, exposing her bare skin to the air and she shivered, pulling her shirt and jacket back down without turning to look at him. She felt the heat of his gaze on her, though.

It was a constant.

He looked at her like it was his right to do so. He kinda looked at everything that way.

Abel walked off to examine the tracks.

“One’s been here recently, but no way to know if that’s our pack or a lone wolf passing through. Doesn’t look like the rendezvous area, though.” Abel crouched and Talia did the same.

The sheer size of the print took her breath away, unlike any canine footprint she’d ever seen. She laughed softly.

“I wondered if I would be able to tell the difference between a dog print and a wolf…”

Abel chuckled, too.

“Yeah, no mistaking it.” The set of prints in the mud were huge, as big as a man’s hand. Abel stretched and walked ahead. The approving tone of his voice, the tease of a shared moment, prickled over the back of her neck, so she rubbed it away.

As they walked their horses up and over a ridge, Abel spotted something in a draw below. When Talia realized he was reaching for his rifle, all calm left her, her veins flooded with adrenaline and she seized his upper arm. Her fingers gripped hard against unexpectedly stout muscle. Abel dropped his gaze slowly, first to her hand, then up to her eyes, which were now stinging.

“Don’t. Please. You gave me your word,” she said in a choked whisper.

He shook his head, crossing his big hand over his chest and placing it over hers. A warming sensation in her pussy came on fast, threatening to seep lower and buckle her knees. Not for the first time, Talia wondered what the hell she had gotten herself into? Should have started with an easier man, someone passive, a push over. Instead she’d gone straight for the big guns.

“You don’t know anything about hunting, do you?” he asked, still watching her.

She swallowed in response; an audible answer seemed unnecessary.

Abel released her hand, took the rifle down slow and enveloped her from behind, lifting the wood stock of his Winchester along her cheek so Talia could see through the scope.

“You see him now?”

Abel’s breath. On her neck. She forced herself to shimmy forward.

“I see him. He’s beautiful.”

At the far end of a clearing below, encircled by patches of trees, a bulky, tawny-brown elk rested, carrying a regal tower of velvety antlers. Looking through the scope, the bull seemed so very close. Abel shifted closer to keep a good grip on the rifle since she wasn’t touching it, a part of her still protesting what she had believed he was about to do. He was a sturdy wall of heat capturing her from behind. For the moment, he had reason to mold himself against her this way.

“Our wolf is long gone,” he said, deeply, slowly.

“How do you know?”

“If he were still around that bull wouldn’t be so calm.”

“Oh.”

Abel let her watch for a few moments longer.

“Ready?”

She nodded, the circle and crosshairs disappearing and the scene before her expanding fast into a mass of trees and brush and the big elk, blending into the muddy browns and greens of the thick underbrush, leaving her dazed. Abel returned to his horse to tuck the gun away, then helped Talia onto hers. She had no idea where they were headed next, but clearly Abel did, moving forward, weaving through trees without hesitation.

“Where to now?”

“Not far.”

They’d been on the trail most of the day and the sky was just beginning to grow dark. Being in the chilly woods, seeing the wolf tracks and knowing how close they were to these majestic beasts had gentled and quieted her heart, at the same time a current of fear buzzed her limbs. She stayed close to Abel as they rode another ten minutes, descending along the creek bank. Here Abel pointed to elk tracks in the sandy terrain, though he didn’t dismount. Instead he continued to follow the stream, which curved gently to the right then, somewhat suddenly, disappeared into heavy timber.

Though the light had been fading, it dropped quickly, along with what was left of the afternoon warmth, when they entered those woods and began to climb again. Talia was about to mention that she didn’t want to be making camp in the dark, when Abel pulled up Shiloh and faced her, indicating over his shoulder with a quick turn of his head.

Behind him, tucked back in the trees and overhanging the stream, was a small, moss-covered log cabin with a single bay window, which took up almost an entire side of the structure. A rope bridge dipped from the far side of the cabin, suspended over the river. It looked like something from a fairy story.

“My granddad helped Cal’s father build it in the sixties. We’ll bed down there for the night and keep an eye on the trail.”

Talia removed her camera from her pocket. Of all the photos she’d taken on the trip, this was the one she most wanted to post, the one which proved she wasn’t in Southern California anymore. She was somewhere more magical and more real than anything Hollywood could dream up.

She imagined standing eerily in the darkened window, water rushing over rocks below, the whole scene lit by moonlight as she kept watch. Alone. Protected. But in her mind’s eye, Abel came up unexpectedly from behind like he’d done with the rifle, shirtless this time, resting his chin on her shoulder, slipping his hands under her plush pajama top, kissing her neck, her cheek.

Talia shook her head to chase away the images of pure fantasy—delicate and romantic and not at all consistent with her experience of this man. A soft “oh” escaped her when she realized she’d caught her mind wandering somewhere unsafe, turned it around and walked it back to where she could protect it.

That was new.

“It looks abandoned,” she said, her voice a little cold.

“If you prefer to sleep outside, I can build a nice fire. I can warm you from behind.”

“Inside is fine, Abel.”

He continued on.

Talia turned her horse, leading it uphill toward the cabin, struggling to keep her mind safe from visions of the Abel she did know; the one who, if she shared his sleeping bag, would pull down her pajama bottoms to expose her naked butt and press himself against it, hands grasping her waist, teeth biting her neck, claiming with his whole body the parts of herself she so desperately wanted claimed. He’d push her. He’d take everything if she let him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

ABOUT FELICE FOX

WWW.FELICEFOX.COM

Felice is a big fan of bluegrass and country music, and a lover of all things wild, woodsy and romantic. She wears bad girl boots and was twice mistaken for a roller derby queen. Hold Me Together, the first Cameron Ranch story, was an Amazon #1 bestseller and Hot New Release. It has been described as a “danger to panties everywhere” (Herding Cats & Burning Soup) and “not for the faint of heart” (Fresh Fiction). Her fiction debut, Take Me for Longing, has been an Amazon bestseller since it’s release in 2012 and her second title, It’s Just Sext, became an instant Amazon #1 bestseller. Felice lives, loves and frequently sends out naughty text messages from Silver Lake, California.

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

http://www.amazon.com/Felice-Fox/e/B0077RMQII

FACEBOOK

http://www.facebook.com/felicefox

https://www.facebook.com/felice.fox.5

TWITTER

https://twitter.com/felicefox

PINTEREST

http://www.pinterest.com/felicefox/

INSTAGRAM

 http://www.instagram.com/felicefox

GOODREADS

http://www.goodreads.com/FeliceFoxBooks

Wild Heat By Lucy Monroe ~ Spotlight ~ Excerpt

Wild Heat 

By Lucy Monroe 

Sometimes old flames are the hottest of all . . .

In the quaint little town of Cailkirn, Alaska, it’s impossible to keep a secret, especially one as juicy as the unexpected return of Kitty Grant. Tack MacKinnon remembers her wild red curls and even wilder spirit—and still feels the sting from when she shattered his heart in college. But there’s a pain in Kitty’s gorgeous eyes that guts him to the core and Tack is determined to do whatever it takes to see the woman he still loves smile again—even if it means taking on her demons as his own.

After fleeing an abusive ex-husband, Kitty decides that the best way to heal her broken heart is to come back home. But she gets a whole new shock when she sees how undeniably sexy Tack has become. More handsome, more muscular, more charming—more everything—he’s impossible to resist. Before she knows it, they’re reigniting sparks that could set the whole state of Alaska on fire. Yet trust doesn’t come easy to Kitty anymore, and as things heat up between her and Tack, she can’t help but wonder if one of them is going to get burned . . .

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Excerpt
(unedited version)

CHAPTER ONE

“We’re all going to die this way.”

Caitlin Grant’s head snapped up at the high pitched tones of the small boy in the seat beside her.

He looked up at her with an earnest brown gaze that dared her to disagree.

“Shh…sweetheart,” his mother comforted from his other side, her tone more worried than confident. Still, she rubbed his short nappy hair in a tender gesture. “It’s going to be fine, Joey. You heard the captain. It’s just turbulence.”

“The plane is shaking, mom. This can’t be good.” Joey sounded so adult and so childish at the same time.

Caitlin felt her lips curving into her first smile in months. “We’re coming into Anchorage.” Their early morning flight was right on time. “It’s usually choppy on these flights.”

“You’ve been on a shaky plane before?” the boy demanded.

Caitlin nodded, one bright red curl slipping from its clip to brush her cheek. “Many times.”

Fighting the near irresistible urge to get up and go to the bathroom so she could smooth her hair uniformly back into the clip, despite the captain’s instructions to remain seated, Caitlin tucked the errant strands behind her ear.

“This is really bad.” Joey’s tone indicated disbelief for her calm assurances.

Doubt in her judgment was something Caitlin was very familiar with. Whether it was the way she chose to wear her hair, or the orchestra she hired to play at their annual outdoor fete, her ex-husband had frequently expressed concerns about Caitlin’s questionable choices, opinions and taste.

She’d learned not to defend herself because arguing always made it worse.

Tempted to fall back into old patterns and withdraw, Caitlin couldn’t ignore the small boy’s worry however. And she could not forget the final bit of advice from her therapist at their last appointment.

Leaving your husband isn’t going to change what you need it to if you continue to live as if he’s still looking over your shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, Caitlin forced further reassurance from a tight throat. “I’ve been on planes that shook worse than a baby’s rattle and with a lot more noise.”
                                                                       
How ridiculous for it to be so difficult for her to add support to her own assertions.

“Really?” Joey asked hopefully.

Caitlin managed another smile. “Really.”

“And you didn’t die?”

She actually had to suppress the urge to grin at that. Schooling her expression into lines of seriousness, she said, “No.”

His mother wasn’t as adept at hiding her reaction, doing a poor job of hiding her snigger with a cough.

Joey didn’t seem to notice. “Cool.”

A burst of raucous laughter from the rows behind them surprised Caitlin enough to draw her gaze. Was that Rock Jepsom’s younger brother?

The last Caitlin had heard, Carey had taken off for Hollywood with his inheritance and no intention to return. Just like Caitlin, except her inheritance had barely covered the cost of university.

Carey had had a couple million to support his dreams. He sure didn’t look like he was coming back broken like she was. In fact, he was surrounded by a group who were clearly in the industry.

Caitlin had spent eight years living the life in LA, nine if she counted her engagement. She recognized actors and production people as easily as she did a knockoff Chanel bag.

What were they all doing heading into Anchorage? A lot of movies purported to be set in Alaska, but few actually were.

It was a joke among residents how often the media got it seriously wrong in their attempts to portray America’s largest state.

She wouldn’t have expected Carey to be the one to take up that cause though. Not even a little bit.

But then she’d never expected to move back to Cailkirn either.

Tack MacKinnon finished nailing down the new stair riser on the back porch steps of the Knit & Pearl Bed and Breakfast.

It was a rare morning off for him during tourist season. Even though it was early May, he still had plenty to do getting his business ready for the busier months to come. Whether he was out blueprinting a new tour, navigating old ones and looking for changes in the land over the past year, or taking out some of the early season clients, Tack’s long hours had already started.

He’d planned a trip into Kenai for this morning, but when the eldest Grant sister had phoned to ask for his help, he hadn’t even considered saying no.

He might be a MacKinnon, but everyone pitched in to help the Grant sisters. The last of that particular founding family still living in Cailkirn, they were as close to town royalty as anyone was ever going to get.

While Alma Winter was no longer technically a Grant, she was still considered one of “The Grant Sisters” just as her sister-in-law, Moya Grant, was. Both elderly women had lost their husbands before Tack had even been born. The final sister, Elspeth Grant had never married.

And was one of the most vigilant matchmakers in all of Alaska.

“Oh, thank you, Tack. You’re such a good boy.” Miss Elspeth smiled at him from the wide porch. “You’ll stay for some tea, won’t you?”

“Of course, Miss Elspeth.” It was getting late to make the trip into Kenai and be back in time for his afternoon tour anyway. “A man would have to be a fool to turn down your shortbread cookies.”

Miss Elspeth went pink with pleasure. “Maggie Grant brought the recipe from the Old Country and it hasn’t changed in nearly two centuries. Our dear grandmother passed it down to me even though Alma is the oldest.”

“My da won’t admit it, but they’re even better than my gran’s shortbread.” Tack grinned up at the elderly spinster. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that to Gran MacKinnon though.”

Miss Elspeth laughed, the sound soft and youthful despite being closer to seventy than sixty. “Your secret is safe with me. I’ve got a secret of my own you know.”

“From who?”

“Everyone. I haven’t even told Moya,” she finished in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Oh?”

“Nope.”

That surprised him. The two elderly ladies had been best friends before they became sisters via marriage and were extremely close. Usually, what one knew, so did the other — and both delighted in knowing something Miz Alma did not.

The childlike delight in Miss Elspeth’s faded blue eyes made him smile. “Are you going to tell me?”

“You know, I think I just might.” She nodded, her straight red hair fluttering in the breeze. “Yes. You deserve it; you take such good care of us.”

Tack knew better than to push the older woman, but he was curious. Any secret Miss Elspeth considered worth keeping would be interesting, to say the least.

Some might the think the Grant sisters were a few crayons shy of a full box. What with all three of them still dying their hair red, claiming to be a good twenty years younger than they were and wearing fancy hats to church every Sunday.

Then there was the way they Miz Moya talked to the ghost of her deceased husband, in company. All three of the sister were convinced their home-turned-bed-and-breakfast was haunted by the first Maggie Grant.

Still, Tack liked them.

No one in the town loved Cailkirn more or was more dedicated to the town’s thriving.

None of them wanted it to turn into another Anchorage, or even Fairbanks, but Cailkirn was less than a decade shy of its two hundredth birthday. He and the Grant sisters shared the need to know it would celebrate that centennial and many more.

Miss Elspeth had fussed Tack’s muscular six and a half foot frame into a sturdy wooden chair at her kitchen table and put the kettle on before she returned to her secret. “Someone’s coming home and I bet you’ll never guess who.”

Tack didn’t want to steal Miss Elspeth’s thunder. So, he didn’t tell her that he’d heard rumors of Rock Jepsom’s younger brother coming. Carey and a bunch of his friends had booked into the Northern Lights Lodge. With twenty guest rooms, it was the only thing resembling a hotel in, or around Cailkirn.

The vast majority of Cailkirn’s tourist income came from the more than half a million guests from the cruise ships that docked daily in their ports May thru September. Day only visitors, they had no need for local lodgings.

In a bid for town harmony, Tack did his best to share the MacKinnon Bros. Tours clients between the lodge run by the Sutherlands and the Grant sisters’ B&B. Thankfully the different types of accommodations appealed to different types of his “Enjoy the Real Alaska Experience” clients.

“Who’s coming for a visit, Miss Elspeth?”

“Oh, she’s not coming for a visit. She’s coming home to stay. I always knew she would, no matter what Alma said. Sean would have too, if he and Gina hadn’t been in that terrible accident.”

The mention of Miz Moya’s dead son and daughter-in-law sent a frisson of foreboding through Tack. “She?” he asked in sepulcher tones.

Miss Elspeth could not mean who he thought she did. Granddaughter to Miz Moya, Kitty…Caitlin please…Barston was married to a mover and shaker in the City of Lights. She hadn’t stepped foot in Alaska since dropping out of college to marry Cain Barston eight years ago.

No way was she coming home to Cailkirn. Unlike Tack, her former best friend and the fool who’d loved her too much and too long, the petite redhead hated Alaska. She especially despised life in the small town that her parents had fought so hard to leave behind.

“Yes, my niece.” Miss Elspeth put her hands together as if in prayer. “Kitty’s coming home.”

Tack took a big gulp of tea and then choked as he tried not to spit it out in shock at its scalding heat.

Miss Elspeth was up patting his back before he realized she’d crossed the kitchen. “Are you all right Tack? You work too hard. You need to take a day off.”

He didn’t mention that today, or at least that morning was supposed to be exactly that. Doing so would be churlish and there was something truly wrong about being grumpy with a Grant sister. Even after she announced the woman that had broken Tack’s heart and abandoned their friendship for the acceptance of people like Cain Barston was coming home.

Moving home.

“What about Barston?”

“She divorced him.” There was something in Miss Elspeth’s tone.

Grief. Anger. Satisfaction.

It was all there.

“I didn’t realize they were having problems.”

“Well, it’s not as if you listen to talk about her. You practically run from the room when Kitty is mentioned.”

“I do not.” Though probably? He did.

She’d been the love of his life and she’d never seen him as more than a disposable friend.

“Well, that is neither here nor there. Kitty always said everything was fine, but we could see there were difficulties. She lost her spark, our Kitty. She also lost so much weight she looked like a skeleton.” Miss Elspeth had maintained the trim figure of her Miss Alaska days, but she’d never been rail thin like so many of the women he’d met in Los Angeles.

“That’s not all that abnormal for LA, Miss Elspeth.” He didn’t like the thought that Kitty’s blue eyes had lost their shine though.

Her summer sky gaze, so different from his dark one, had been the first thing his six year old self had noticed about the new girl in school. Pale with tiny freckles, she’d been so different than a boy who took his coloring from his Inuit mother. He’d been mesmerized by that difference and she’d never lost her fascination for him.

Which was why he’d never allowed himself to stick around when people were talking about her. The only way to sever his Kitty addiction had been to cut off all ties to her, just like she’d cut off all ties to him.

“If you’d seen her, you wouldn’t say that. When she called from the hospital, she weighed ninety-three pounds.”

Pain pierced Tack’s heart, though he’d never acknowledge it. “That can’t be right.”

Sure Kitty had lost some weight once they moved to California to attend USC, but she’d been healthy the last time Tack saw her. Curves in all the right places, she might have been a little thin for his taste. She’d still turned him on like no other woman ever had. Kitty hadn’t been bone-protruding skinny by any stretch.

Miss Elspeth sat down with her own cup of tea, her expression somber. “Our Kitty almost died and we weren’t there. Moya went though, after our girl called. She stayed with Kitty for six weeks. You remember?”

“Yes.” It had been the previous winter.

Despite her lifelong and very vocal lack of desire to ever visit the Lower 48, Miz Moya had said she was going south for the sunshine. Tack had thought it odd, but chalked it up to the elderly woman missing her only grandchild.

“Kitty said that’s why she’d had so many broken bones over the last couple of years. They’d gotten brittle she said.” Miss Elspeth frowned. “Grant bones don’t go brittle. We’re hardy stock. My grandfather lived to be ninety and Gran another twelve years after that. Neither had a single bone break in all those years.”

“Kitty broke something?” Tack asked in disbelief.

She’d gotten into more scrapes as a kid, always taking risks. He could remember the tumble she’d taken when they’d been hiking on Resurrection Pass when they were twelve. It had about stopped his heart, but she hadn’t so much as gotten a hairline fracture.

“More than one something. She didn’t break her wrist, crack two of her ribs or her clavicle bone bumping into walls, no matter how brittle her bones.”

Bile rose in Tack’s throat. “Cain Barston beat her?”

Elspeth’s lips thinned in a sad line. “Kitty never said so, but that man destroyed our girl.”

“She’s coming home now, though.” Tack just didn’t understand why, if it had been that bad, Kitty hadn’t come back a long time ago.

Or at the very least last spring when a pretty subdued Miz Moya had returned to Cailkirn. She’d stayed in California another full year by his reckoning.

Was her dislike for their small town life so strong she’d rather live with a monster than come back to it?

Miss Elspeth reached out and patted Tack’s hand, her smile belied by the tears sparkling in her faded blue eyes. “You’re right. She is moving home. And it’s going to be all right.“

Tack rose from the table and gave the older woman a gentle but firm hug. “Of course it will.”

Tack had more doubts on that front than he’d had since bringing his broken heart home to Cailkirn seven years ago, but he wouldn’t voice them.

He’d transferred to Idaho State after the summer Kitty got engaged to Cain Barston and graduated with a degree in Outdoor Education two years later. He’d come home to an offer from his father and Granddad MacKinnon to help finance Tack’s dream of starting a wilderness guide business back in Cailkirn.

Their only proviso had been he take Egan his brother into the business as well, once he’d gotten training. Tack had agreed without reservation. Even thought he was four years younger, next to Kitty Grant, Egan had been Tack’s best friend.

Kitty had dropped out of USC her junior year in favor of her MRS and moved on to bigger and brighter things.

Or so he’d thought.

Tack could not believe the vibrant girl who had sparked every one of his fantasies since his first sexual thought had stayed with a man who abused her. That she’d let herself get so dangerously underweight.

He didn’t know what had gone on in that marriage, but it didn’t sound like Kitty’s plans to get away from their small town had worked out the way she’d expected them to.

Troubled, Tack left Miss Elspeth in her immaculately clean kitchen after promising to return to the B&B for dinner with the sisters that evening.

It was their customary way of showing gratitude. Since Miz Moya was one of the best cooks on the Kenai and Miss Elspeth was equal in her baking, most Cailkirn residents considered such an invitation a pretty nice thank you.

Keyed up by the idea of returning to Cailkirn for the first time in almost a decade, Caitlin walked behind Joey and his mother toward baggage claim.

When they arrived a huge man stepped forward stopping the mother and son’s progress. Like a lot of Alaskan men, particular those who lived outside of the major cities, he had facial hair. However, he had it neatly trimmed close to his face. Even so, it was longer than the close cropped beard and mustache Tack MacKinnon wore, which looked like a perpetual five o’clock shadow, but was a lot less bristly. The only beard Caitlin had ever found appealing.

And why she’d already started thinking about Tack, Caitlin didn’t know. She’d callously jettisoned the man from her life, betraying years of friendship. She doubted Tack would have the time of day for her anymore, much less be interested in renewing their acquaintance.

There would be no healing of that particular self-inflicted wound in her heart. Considering how stomped on and shredded that organ had been over the past years, Kitty was surprised at the level of regret that thought elicited in her.

She’d pretty much decided her heart was beyond fixing. And the last thing she needed was the vulnerability of any kind of relationship, even friendship.

Pushing aside her own disturbed thoughts, Caitlin couldn’t help noticing the way Joey and his mother reacted to the man who was so clearly there to meet them. Joey was staring up at the man in rapt fascination, but his mother appeared as nauseated as she had on the plane, her gaze shadowed by trepidation.

“Is this my new daddy?” Joey asked with the keen interest and innocence of a small boy.

The man having the looks of a modern day Cossack, the mother with the accent and delicate pale features of a Southern belle and the little boy with short nappy hair and skin the color of coffee with just a dash of cream, the small family embodied the diversity so much a part of her home state.

The man stared down at the boy for several seconds of tense silence. Then he addressed the woman. “Savannah Marie?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t say you had a child.”

“You didn’t ask.”

He turned abruptly and started walking.

Savannah’s shoulder’s slumped, the defeat in her posture too familiar for Caitlin to ignore it.

Not that she’d let her sense of despondency show like this woman, but Caitlin had felt it too long and too deeply not to recognize it in another human being.

She reached out to touch Savannah’s shoulder and offer help, though heaven knew Caitlin wasn’t anyone’s idea of a hero.

However before her hand connected the man turned back with a brusque, “Aren’t you coming? You’ll need to point out your bags for me. We’ve got to get on the road. The drive to Cailkirn from here isn’t short.”

The Southern woman’s sigh of relief and whispered, “Thank God,” got to Caitlin in a way that nothing else had in a long time.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she let her hand fall on Savannah’s shoulder, causing the other woman to stop and turn to face Caitlin. “Pardon?”

“You’re going to Cailkirn?” Caitlin forced herself to ask.

The other woman’s grey gaze reflected the mix of emotions Caitlin had heard in her voice a moment ago as well as confusion. “I think so?”

Caitlin nodded. “Come on then. Let’s get our bags. We’re going to the same place and I’m going to ask your…friend,” she settled on, uncertain what the relationship was at this point. “Into giving me a ride.”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“Don’t worry. I won’t take up a lot of room.” Caitlin winked, proud of herself for making the comment without feeling the shame that usually accompanied any reference to her body.

“But—”

“He won’t mind. It’s an Alaskan thing. Neighbors help neighbors. Especially in the small towns, but nowhere more than in Cailkirn.”

They reached the luggage carousel and the bearded man.

“Caitlin Grant.” She put her hand out to him. “I’m headed to the Knit and Pearl B&B. I would really appreciate a ride if you’ve got room.”

“Nikolai Vasov.” He shook Caitlin’s hand. “I know the Grant sisters.”

Caitlin gave Nikolai the polite expression that she’d perfected in her years with Cain. “I’m not surprised. Most people in Cailkirn do.”

Her grandmother and great-aunts had lived in the small town on the Kenai Peninsula their entire lives. With her grandfather and Great-uncle Teddy gone, the three elderly ladies shared the spacious Victorian house that had been built on the original Grant homestead more than a hundred years ago — after the family had amassed sufficient wealth.

As far as Caitlin knew, her Aunt Elspeth had never lived anywhere else and her grandmother had lived in the Grant home since her marriage to Uncle Ardal forty years ago. Aunt Alma had moved back into the big house after Teddy Winter’s death a few years after the turn of the century.

It was a couple of years after the oldest Grant sister moved in that the sisters decided to turn the house into a bed and breakfast. Caitlin had been preparing to go away to college and her grandmother and aunts claimed they needed something to keep them busy.

“You are a relation?” Nikolai asked.

“Moya is my grandmother.” Caitlin didn’t recognize Nikolai, but he looked a little like the Vasov boy who had been a couple of years ahead of her and Tack in school. “Are you related to Alexi Vasov?”

“He’s my cousin.”

She nodded, vaguely remembering talk about Alexi’s uncle. Peder Vasov had left Cailkirn right after high school just like Caitlin’s parents. Somehow, both their children had ended up back in the town settled by Scots and Russians, integrating a small Inuit village along the way to incorporated town status.

Sudden clarity washed over Nikolai’s expression. “You are Kitty. You grew up in Cailkirn.”

“Since I was six, yes.” Since the devastating death of both her parents. “Gran Moya and her sisters raised me. Uncle Teddy too.”

His death had hurt almost as much as that of her parents.

Every single one of her older caregivers had loved Cailkirn with a passion she’d never been able to match.

The only thing Caitlin had ever wanted was to get out. Out of Cailkirn. Out of Alaska. Away from the pain of loss she associated with living there.

She’d made it, only to learn that the world outside was cruel and demoralizing.

Nikolai had the look of a man who might have figured that out too, even if he’d originally called the Lower 48 home.

He nodded his head abruptly. “We’ll make room for you.”

He didn’t ask how much luggage she had. It wasn’t the Cailkirn way. He might not have been born there, but he’d apparently lived there long enough to learn it.

Caitlin turned to Savannah and her son. “I should introduce myself to you too, I think. I’m Caitlin Grant and you can find me at the Knit & Pearl Bed and Breakfast. You and your son will always be welcome.”

Though she was probably the last woman who should be trying to offer hope and help to someone else, Caitlin couldn’t seem to stop herself.

“I’m Joseph, but everybody calls me Joey,” the little dark-haired boy offered while his mother stood in apparent shock.

Caitlin shook his hand and didn’t tell him she’d heard his name on the plane. “It’s very nice to meet you, Joseph. I’ll call you Joey if you like.”

“Yes.” He stared at his mom, clearly waiting for her to say something.

The other woman offered her hand. “My name is Savannah…” she cast a sidelong glance at Nickolai.

He gazed back, his expression impenetrable.

Savannah took a deep breath. “Vasov. I’m Savannah Vasov.”

Caitlin schooled her features not to show her shock. She hadn’t heard of a proxy marriage since she was a teenager, but what else could this be? With Nikolai not knowing about Joey and Savannah showing such uncertainty about the use of her last name.

In a state where the male population outnumbered females of marriageable age especially, long distance relationships were not uncommon. Marriages brought about through a third party weren’t unheard of either.

Heck, they happened in the Lower 48 too. The dot.com matchmaking entities were an ingrained part of American life now. Entire reality shows were dedicated to the concept of matchmaking and selective pool dating with the endgame being a marriage.

Proxy marriages were a lot less common though, to the point of being almost unheard of. Oh, they happened, most commonly among active duty military though.

They were only legal in six states, California being one of them — which explained how Savannah and Nik had managed to marry by proxy. It wasn’t a legal practice for an Alaskan based marriage ceremony.

Though foreign brides marrying American men by proxy was still an active practice. Caitlin had known more than one beautiful Eastern European or Asian woman back in LA who had married her wealthy, but otherwise unremarkable middle aged husband, by proxy. It had worked out beautifully for some and not so well for others.

But then Caitlin’s marriage had been its own horror story. She was the last person to judge another woman for the criteria by which she made her choices.

Regardless, the strong suspicion that Savannah had agreed to such an arrangement only told Caitlin how desperate the other woman had to have been.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With more than 7 million copies of her books in print worldwide, award winning and USA Today bestseller Lucy Monroe has published over 60 books and had her stories translated for sale all over the world.  While she writes multiple subgenres of romance, all of her books are sexy, deeply emotional and adhere to the concept that love will conquer all.  A passionate devotee of romance, she adores sharing her love for the genre with her readers.