by Maggie Ryan
“Beau, I can’t just give up twenty percent of the business and expect Laney to pick up the slack. Plus, she’s planning a wedding. She can’t afford to buy out my share simply because I got bored.”
“I know that. So, what if we just give it to her, and call it payment for all the extra work she did this year?”
Ginger’s eyes bulged, and a wide smile spread slowly across her face. “We could do that? You would let me do that? Can we afford to give up that much?”
“We can manage, and yes, I would do that and more to see you as happy as you look in this moment.”
She launched herself at him with a happy cry, so forcefully that he fell backwards onto the floor. It was a good thing he had been sitting and not standing. She rained happy kisses all over his face, covering almost every inch before pulling back and looking at him quizzically. “Really? Really, really?”
He would have given it all up to see her this happy, and relieved. He picked himself up off the floor and smiled. “Yes, really. We will talk to Laney and Josiah tonight, and if they agree, we’ll call Roy and have him draw up papers.”
She hugged him again, squealing happily. “Oh! I’m so excited, I hardly know what to do with myself!”
He grinned salaciously, and leaned forward to cup her bottom. “I can think of a few things.”
She smiled at him, eyes twinkling, then looked back to where their daughter still sat on the floor between them, joyfully banging two blocks together in her hands.
“Well, it is almost nap time.”
The End
Rayanna Jamison
Rayanna Jamison has always dreamed of becoming an author. She credits a big move from Oregon to Utah in 2013 as the catalyst that finally began her writing career. She now lives in Southern Utah with her husband, two children, two dogs, and her mother. She writes what she loves to read, which is fun romantic stories about submission in its many forms. When she is not writing, she enjoys reading, cooking, crafting, and shopping, and that's just in her spare time. When the kids and husband are home, she can be found baking with her daughter, watching her son and his friends, and hosting neighborhood block parties. She loves exploring her new area, and finding fun new things to do with her family.
Don’t miss the rest of the Corbin’s Bend Series!
Welcome to Corbin’s Bend
Return to Corbin’s Bend
At Home in Corbin’s Bend
Corbin’s Bend Homecoming
Love in the Rockies
Don’t miss these exciting titles by Rayanna Jamison and Blushing Books!
Catching Her Cowboy Daddy
Santa, Sir
Cole for Christmas
Other Uses for a Wooden Spoon
Corbin’s Bend Series
A Perfect Partnership
A Holiday Ruse
Ginger UP
Love Multiplied Series
Green Valley Brides, Books 1 & 2
Luke’s First Bride, Book 3
Vegas Nights Series
Collared, Book One
Claimed, Book Two
Second Chance Ranch Series
Winterland Daddies, Book 1
Anthologies
Sweet Town Love
12 Naughty Days of Christmas - 2014
12 Naughty Days of Christmas - 2015
A Spanking Good New Year
Audio Books
The Bishop’s First Bride
Bride Two Soon
An Author’s Angst
Maggie Ryan
©2015 by Blushing Books® and Maggie Ryan
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Blushing Books®,
a subsidiary of
ABCD Graphics and Design
977 Seminole Trail #233
Charlottesville, VA 22901
The trademark Blushing Books®
is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.
Ryan, Maggie
An Author’s Angst
eBook ISBN: 978-1-62750-983-1
Cover Design by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the Author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Chapter 1
The tap tap tap of her fingernail on the backspace key was the only sound in the house besides the occasional heavy sigh. Venia sat in her recliner, feet up as she studied the laptop's screen, watching her work of the past several days disappear one letter at a time.
"Shit, give it up, old girl, just highlight and delete the damn thing!" Venia glanced towards the phone. Should she call and confess her sin? How often had she heard that cursing was not ladylike? Thinking about her last spanking had her finger pausing momentarily against the laptop's keyboard. It had involved a trip across the arm of her sofa, her jeans at her ankles, her panties remaining as her only protection. It wasn't even one she had been told to expect, it had been delivered only after she'd made a phone call. Another heavy sigh filled the air as she accepted the fact that even if she chose to call again, no one would be coming to take her in hand. Ever since Vance had retired his traveling paddle—well retired it for anyone not named Ettie that is—her options of being turned across a sofa arm for a heating of her ample backside had ended, deserved or not. Not that Vance hadn't offered to take her across his knees. Though she had finally made that first call after hearing about his services from some other women without current partners, she hadn't felt right about draping herself across his lap. The last time she'd been in that position, it had been over her husband's knees. Deciding that wasn't a path she needed to go down in her current state of mind, she pushed Vance from her mind with the final thought that she was glad he had found happiness with the local rag's feisty columnist. A final sigh was uttered as she called up the file folder containing her current work in progress, and with a final hard stab at a key, sent the pathetic prose to its timely death. Shutting down her laptop, she set it aside.
Looking around the living room, she felt a mixture of emotions flow through her. She and her husband had had such hopes when they applied to move to the community of Corbin's Bend. They'd explained their plans to their daughter, Cecily, who had been a bit shocked to learn that her parents practiced domestic discipline in the first place. The couple had been so excited to be getting in on the ground floor of the incredible community. The application process completed, a house assigned, neither she nor her husband had any doubts that the planned move was the perfect next step in their lives together. While they could deal with their daughter's not so enthusiastic best wishes, what neither had ever expected was that the move would be made by only one. Greg had died before ever calling the community his home. It had been a difficult decision but Venia had decided that with or without the man she'd planned on sharing the next step with, she packed their old house, donated what was no longer needed or what could be used by others and made the move. She'd never regret that decision. Corbin's Bend was her home; she'd made great friends and was very content. If there were days like today when nothing seemed to be going right, well, she'd just have to get over herself.
A half hour later, she was sitting at a small table, a cup of coffee and a chocolate filled éclair demanding her attention. Taking a rather large bite, she closed her eyes and a soft humming sound came from her lips.
"Good to see the éclairs are up to par," Ange said as she slid into the chair opposite Venia.
Venia swallowed the bite and took a sip of her coffee. "You know you are truly a lifesaver don't you?"
"Well, most people state I'm an angel," Ange teased, her reference to the na
me of her shop, Ange's Angel Cakes, used for the millionth time. "I must admit, while I like the notion of saving a life, I do believe it takes more than sugar and flour to do so."
"Don't forget chocolate," Venia noted after popping the last bite into her mouth. "I'd decided that since throwing myself off the nearest mountain would require first climbing it, I needed the energy of a couple of éclairs."
Ange's look said she didn't find the statement very amusing. "I won't have my shop associated with such thoughts, Venia Varner! Now, while I certainly appreciate the business, why don't you tell me what's really wrong?"
Venia shrugged, not one used to discussing her own problems. She was far more comfortable helping others with theirs. "It's nothing really."
"Bull… um hockey. I don't agree. Where is that happy woman that everyone knows? You look like you lost your best friend."
"Maybe that's what I need," Venia said, finishing her coffee. "Heck, I might not be able to call certain people, but I sure can call a friend."
Ange stood, her eyes flashing. "Isn't that just dandy? What am I, invisible? Well pardon me, I guess I'm only good for flour, sugar and oh, yes, let's not forget chocolate!"
"No, of course not," Venia said, realizing that she had just hurt her friend's feelings. "You are a dear friend. It's just that I need a mentor."
"A mentor? You? Venia, you are a wonderful mentor!"
"Thanks, but sometimes even those of us who have been here the longest need a shove in the right direction. You are an angel, my dear friend, and I love you. I promise to be back to my old self when we meet tomorrow night." Venia stood and gave Ange a hug. "Even if I upset you, you will still bring the cupcakes, right?"
Ange might have a feisty temper but she was not one to hold a grudge. "Of course I'm bringing them. And, Venia, remember, you have tons of friends. Please don't hesitate to call any one of us, promise?"
"Don't worry, honey, I'm both too old and far too lazy to be trekking up any mountains." Hoping that she had reassured her friend, Venia left the shop. It was hard to stay down in the Bend. As she walked to her car, she stopped and chatted with several residents. Her smile might not be back to its full intensity but by the time she'd climbed into her car and headed home, she was definitely feeling a teensy bit better.
Dropping her keys into the pretty dish on the table next to the door, Venia crossed the living room heading towards her kitchen. As she skirted a chair, a picture on the wall caught her eye. She passed it a dozen times a day and yet it was like seeing it for the first time. It was a picture of an old-fashioned Royal typewriter, a piece of paper held between the rollers. At the top ran a collection of book covers—depicting some of the books that Venia had written. Her late husband had given it to her the day she'd signed a contract for her tenth book. Greg had always been so proud of her, encouraging her in all ways. A brief smile lit her face as she remembered exactly how some of that encouragement had taken place face down over Greg's knees. The smile slipped away as she read the beautiful script that flowed across the bottom of the picture. 'Every letter—every word—offers infinite possibilities'.
Venia's world had revolved around words as long as she could remember. She used words of love with her husband, and words to plea for forgiveness when he'd found need to redden her rear. She'd used words of comfort to ease their daughter's pain at Greg's untimely death. As a mentor in the spanking community of Corbin's Bend, she'd called upon her extensive experience with words to soothe, comfort, scold, and coax those newly arrived residents who needed someone to help ease the way. Hell, she made her living as an author! Lifting a finger, she tapped against the blank piece of paper in the picture. "But what happens when the words are gone?"
Tapping on glass certainly wasn't going to solve her problem. The stupid piece of typewriter paper was blank—no rousing words of encouragement leapt out of the frame and into her head. She'd suffered writer's block before but never like this. Every time she opened a new file, every character she tried to create absolutely refused to come to life on the page. It was time to phone a friend and she knew exactly who that was going to be.
That evening, she was sitting in a booth at Endelé, the Bend's incredibly popular Mexican restaurant. "Why is it that most of life's largest struggles are discussed over a plate of food?" Venia lifted her fork to take a bite of her chile relleno.
Lizzy Mayfield smiled as she scooped up guacamole with a chip. "I'd be willing to bet Marilyn would disagree. She is constantly telling me that being over her knee solves our largest problems."
Venia lifted her glass, the frozen margarita the perfect companion to the spicy relleno dish. "I would have agreed to that while Greg was alive or even if Vance was still on call. However, I've found myself turning to food for inspiration."
"And is it helping?"
Venia knew she could laugh it off or wave it away and yet she also knew that her former mentor would see right through her. "No, I guess not. All the inspiration I've had is that my dryer appears to have the magical power to make my jeans shrink yet again."
"You can turn even a silly excuse into something far more imaginative," Lizzy said, lifting her own glass only to set it down when Venia moaned. "I told you to stay away from all those hot peppers." When Venia's head lifted and her eyes filled with tears, Lizzy reached across the table to take her friend's hand.
"Oh, sweetie, what's wrong?" Venia's head shake didn't stop her. "Don't shake your head at me, Venia. Even though you are a mentor, don't forget I've been your mentor for years. I know you and know something is wrong. Life is too short for bullshit or for keeping our hurts to ourselves. You are going to tell me; either here and now or we'll go to your place. Now, which is it to be?"
Venia chose her house. Despite attempting to shake off her concern, she half feared she'd fall apart if she opened up in public. The two friends switched to coffee and after fixing their mugs, carried them into the living room.
"I'm scared."
The confession had Lizzy reaching over to put her hand on Venia's arm. "I'm here. Tell me."
Venia spent the next half hour explaining her fears. Lizzy didn't interrupt, sitting back and doing what she was known for. She listened, truly listened to what was both being said and what was left unuttered. Anyone that knew her knew it wasn't in her to simply brush aside a concern—especially not when it concerned someone she loved. When Venia finally sat back, her explanation done, Lizzy sat forward.
"As I understand it, you have writer's block." When Venia rolled her eyes, Lizzy smiled. "You should be glad you don't have a paddle wielding HOH here right now. I promise, no matter how upset you are, that dramatic eye roll would get your butt blistered before you could type 'once upon a time'."
"That's just it, I can't even think further than those four words. Every scene I try, every plot line just sits on the page. I've tried to develop characters and if they aren't rolling their own eyes, they are covering up huge yawns with their hands. I'm telling you, it's not writer's block—it's a writer's block, tackle, and the huge semi-truck that delivered it all at once."
"Honey, words have not disappeared." She held up her hand when Venia snorted. "Granted they might have taken a vacation, but, sweetie, you are far too talented to think they won't return home to roost." Standing, she took Venia's mug from her and walked to the kitchen. Returning with refills, she regained her seat.
"The question is, how do we remind those words that a short vacation can be just as refreshing as a long one? God knows, if they want to hang out on the beach, the least they could do is invite you to come along."
Venia laughed. "Now look who is using words rather creatively. I need the words to come home, not to chase every possible future fan away seeing my fat ass on some beach."
"I think you'd better start keeping a journal," Lizzy suggested. "That way, when you next find yourself wishing some man would hold you accountable, you'll have pages and pages stating all the rules you've broken."
"Wishing for a dominant HOH
is its own subject. For now, Miss Genius Mentor, how do I really get back to writing? How do I find my muse again?"
"If the words aren't coming to you—go to them."
"What does that mean?"
"It means, your brain is attempting to tell you that you need to go in a different direction. You don't really want to type those same words in a different order. Your muse needs a challenge. Think about it, you've written romance novels for years. I'm not an author, but I know I enjoy reading a wide variety of books. There are dozens of different genres out there—so, pick one. It won't be as familiar, it will require some research but before you know it—voilà—new words will appear and demand you put them into some sort of order."
Venia didn't snap a reply. She sipped her coffee and then slowly smiled. "I love you, Lizzy! I think that just might work. I just need to think of a genre."
"Well, the book club is meeting tomorrow night. Since you are hosting it, you'll have a whole room of people who are bibliophiles trapped in your house. Between us we have read thousands of books. We can certainly come up with some suggestions of what we'd like to read."
By the time Venia saw Lizzy out, the dark curtain that had been descending over her for weeks lifted just enough for her to see a sliver of light at the bottom. Locking the door and picking up the coffee mugs, she moved towards the kitchen. This time when she saw the picture, she smiled. "Thanks, Greg, I miss you so much but should have remembered I'd be able to count on you to help lead me to a solution."
