I’m excited to be back for the third time on Wild and Wicked Cowboys. My visits coincide with a new release as always, but I also wanted to share about a new Facebook page I started called the Smokin’ Hot Cowboy Erotica Saloon. (link: https://www.facebook.com/groups/781156808659513/ )
Already 75+ member’s strong, we are a group readers and authors of western and cowboy inspired erotic and romantic fiction. We post, discuss, promote, savor and salivate over everything cowboy. Stop by, check us out, and join if you’re so inclined. We’d love to have you.
Now, let me introduce The Trail Master’s Bride with a clip.
Warning: there’s some good old fashioned over-the-knee justice dished out toward the end, (all adult) in the manner of John Wayne as McClintock, minus the fireplace shovel. Yikes! So, if you’re offended by such shenanigans, skip on past the excerpt to the blurb. J
Here we go…
As the guide and trail master, I have extra duties beyond what the other men have. I scout, guide the train, arbitrate disagreements, set the watch, and see to the safety of every man, woman, and child on this train. I also must ensure that we keep to a reasonable timetable so we don’t find ourselves in the middle of the Cascades in early fall with two feet of snow to deal with, which let me make perfectly clear is deadly. If that isn’t enough, on a daily basis, I get to deal with a bellyaching brat who was dumped in my lap. What’s more, she can’t seem to realize this isn’t Boston and the servants aren’t going to tote and fetch for her anymore. Now, I’ve set you a task and expect it done without any more lip. Understand?”
Before he said more or really lost his temper, he walked away without waiting for answer. He’d taken no more than three or four steps when something hit him square in the back with a thud, stopping him mid-stride. After a brief pause, he slowly turned back. As he did, another projectile came his way and struck him dead center in the chest. Gawking down at the dark brown smudge on his shirt, his eyes came up, absolutely amazed at her gall.
“Did you just throw dung at me?” He asked the obvious, completely flabbergasted that she would throw anything, let alone excrement at him.
“I want to make something clear to you, oh, mighty wagon master. Never in all of my twenty years did I imagine a life such as this, so excuse me if I don’t jump for joy at the chores you have assigned. Gathering animal dung on the prairie was not my lifelong dream. So if I’m irritable, or uncertain, or if I need a night off from blistered fingers while I cook for you, you’ll just have to put up with it and my bratty bellyaching.”
Unable to get over the fact that she had thrown shit at him—twice—he heard her words, but they didn’t register. “I asked a question, Mina. Did you just throw buffalo dung at me?”
“I did, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Have a good night.”
To his out-and-out disbelief, she walked away from him. He saw red. Just who did the little brat think she was, hurling shit at him? He was after her lickety-split, catching up with her at their wagon. Without another word, he propped his boot upon the wheel and pulled her face down over his thigh. As she kicked and screamed, he hauled up her skirt and petticoat, leaving her thin white drawers in place. Although fit to be tied, he noticed how the linen pulled across her hips and thighs in this position. Reminding himself why she was upended, for an excellent reason at that, he proceeded to wear her tail out.
Swatting her no less than thirty times, he paid no heed to her fussing and squirming. As the first ten landed, she cussed a blue streak. By the second set of ten, she was apologizing and pleading for him to stop. The last ten were accompanied by sniffles and promises to never do it ever again.
At thirty, his ire had abated enough to set her back on her feet, taking hold of her shoulders for two reasons: to steady her on her noodle-like legs and to keep her from running off if her temper returned. Tears glistened on her cheeks, which softened his heart, but by God, she’d thrown shit at him.
“Never again, Mina. If you dare repeat it, you’ll find me taking my time to pull down your drawers, bare your behind, and paddle your disrespectful bottom with the bread board hanging in the wagon. Am I making myself clear?”
“Not good enough. I want to hear it.”
“It’s clear. I promise I won’t ever do that again.” She tried to pull her face away, but he held firm. She closed her eyes tightly instead. Then she surprised him by admitting, “I’m truly mortified that I did that. I’m so sorry.”
“What possessed you?”
Her eyes opened and she looked up at him, admitting, “I have a quick temper, I’m sure you’ve noticed. Always have. For some reason, you seem to bring it out of me better than most.”
As he stared at her, he felt his anger melt away as pride welled up at her honest profession, as well as the burgeoning tenderness that seem to grow more every day, even though she’d thrown buffalo shit. He shook his head while laughing softly, the sound coming out in a disbelieving huff as he pulled her close.
“What am I going to do with you, darlin’?”
After being cast out of her childhood home by her horrid stepmother and forced into a marriage by her uncaring father, Mina Hobart reluctantly begins the journey west on the Oregon Trail, hating every minute of each hot, dusty day. Then tragedy strikes and Mina is left a widow.
The west is no place for a young, newly single woman, and the job of keeping Mina safe—and keeping her in line—falls to Weston Carr, the rugged trail master. Weston quickly proves more than ready to tame the feisty redhead’s careless ways and sassy tongue, even if that means taking her over his knee for a good, hard, bare-bottom spanking.
Unfortunately, even as Mina does her best to learn to cook over a camp fire, make coffee properly, and do the laundry in a creek, jealousy and gossip among the other wives quickly build into significant strife in the wagon train. To quell the gathering storm, Weston is forced to take matters into his own hands and make Mina his bride, whether she likes it or not.
Despite Weston’s rough ways and firm-handed discipline, Mina soon finds pleasure in his arms far beyond anything she has experienced before. But when a series of mishaps befalls the wagon train—incidents in which Mina is the prime suspect—the new couple’s growing bond is badly strained. Can Mina prove she is not at fault before things come to a head, and if she does, will Weston be able to protect her from whichever of their traveling companions is up to no good?
Publisher’s Note: The Trail Master’s Bride is an erotic romance novel that contains sexual scenes and spankings, including domestic discipline in a historical setting. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Maddie Taylor Links
You can keep up with Maddie Taylor via her blog, her Twitter and Facebook pages, and her Goodreads profile, using the following links:
Thanks for letting me share and for stopping in. In a few months, I hope to be back with the third in my Silverbend Series; Wild Wisteria, which is Luke Jackson’s story and sadly the end of my trilogy.
Happy summer! Maddie J