Fantastic Blurb Just for You!

“Fuck,” I muttered, crumbling the contract in my fist. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” I really should have read the damn thing better.

“Language,” he warned.

“Gah!” I stomped my foot. “What else am I supposed to say? I’m the one on the receiving end of this!”

“Damn right,” he exclaimed. “You were the one arrested for reckless driving.”

“It was an accident.”

“Forty miles over the speed limit in an active school zone is not an accident. It’s negligence.”

“It was five minutes before the restriction ended!” I explained for the zillionth time. “There were no kids!”

“Thankfully.”

“Okay, that cop was being a total ass.” I tossed the ball-o’-contract onto the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to look at the clock before I entered the area. Like I said, I didn’t see any kids. And it was literally five minutes before 15 turned back into 45 miles per hour.”

In true “Head-of-Household” fashion, or what I imagined a “HoH” to be since I was new to all this, my husband crossed his arms and shook his head. “Not a valid excuse. Especially since you were clocked at 56. That’s still eleven miles over the regular speed limit.”

Ah, the tone. He gave me the tone. The “this is final and I will not be deterred”authoritarian tone.

Swallowing my exasperation, I flicked my gaze to the wood paddle he held in his hand. “Really? You’re really going to beat me for this?”

Though he masked his expression, I saw the hurt flash in his eyes all the same. It was a low blow on my part, I know, but I couldn’t help it. This all seemed so unfair.

“Discipline would be the proper term,” he said with admirable restraint. “Correction would also work. And yes, I believe a paddling is in order.”

Unbelievable.

Mimicking him, I crossed my arms and glared back. “Me going to jail wasn’t punishment enough, huh?”

Silence. It was the ultimate stare-down.

Looking at him holding that instrument of pain—a weapon, if I wanted to be nasty about it—was affecting me more than I cared to admit. My day had been horrible enough without this added to it. Arrested, booked, a few hours in jail, a court date…

Funny, a therapist had once told me that when we stress, we regress. So if the sudden stinging in my eyes and the nearly overwhelming urge to stomp my foot and sling cruel, careless words were any indication of that datum, I was losing maturity at an alarming rate. And the lingering silence only encouraged the relapse.

“If you’re afraid, sweetheart, just say so,” he offered.

“Scared?” I felt an enraged flush rise to my cheeks and my vision blurred with welling tears. “I’m not scared, and I’m definitely not scared of you—” Fuck. My throat tightened. I blinked back the brimming moisture and locked my jaw. I would not cry. I would not cry. I would not cry—

I inhaled a shaky breath and covered my eyes so I wouldn’t give the asshole the satisfaction of seeing me lose it. Damn him. He would not break me. I wouldn’t let him.

Fantastic by Tia Fanning

Available now at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, iBooks, and Google Books

New Release! The Brat and the Bodyguard

Dear Reader,

What can I say? There’s not much time, so I’ll keep it short. I was engaged to man who turned out to be an international drug lord. I have fled to my father’s house to hide, only to have my ex fiancé issue a very serious threat: I come home to him, or he’ll kill me and my father. Those are my two choices.

Do you believe in love at first spank?

So my father has hired a security firm to keep me safe, and he’s paid for personal protection in the form of tall, dark and handsome.

Mr. Bodyguard thinks my bad attitude is more brat than bitch, and he has a solution in mind to correct the problem: a spanking. I was not having any of that. However, when I seduce him on the rebound, I kinda agreed to let him dish out a little corporal punishment in exchange for guaranteed multiple orgasms.

So here’s my issue: He’s held his end of the bargain. Should I uphold mine (assuming we both live through the night)?

Please come armed with advice…and perhaps a weapon. ~Ms. Brat

Fantastic! A New Release from Tia Fanning (Domestic Discipline Spanking Story!)

Dear Reader,

This morning, my fantastic husband of only six months bailed my sorry ass out of jail. I am grateful for that and for him. But now that we’re home, he wants to bring the broadside of a wooden paddle down on said ass as punishment for my behavior. And I’m not having it!

Seriously? A spanking? Oh, hell no. Needless to say, the fight is on.

Look, I love my husband more than words can express, but I don’t understand all this Domestic Discipline stuff. I’m trying to get my hubby to see reason, but he’s not budging, and I don’t know if I can let him correct me. I’m beside myself with heartache. What should I do?

Do I let our wonderful love story end here and now? Or should I buck up and bend over?

Distraught with Discipline

Mary Lou Needs a Drink: The Start of a Love Story

“I’ll take my chances,” Phoebe declared, strutting her ass through ninety-plus degree heat toward an old, not-so-trusty clunker of a car.

The pink metal glistened in the searing noon sun, taunting her with the false allure of a cool, reliable vehicle. But the stuff beneath the hood told a different tale. The stupid car royally sucked. It couldn’t go farther than ten miles without a pit stop for a drink of water.

She should have known better than to trust it. Hell, even the old man who sold it to her had warned her not to take Mary Lou too far or push her too fast. He’d said his late wife’s Caddy, which he claimed still smelled like her perfume, might be pretty to look at, but was more decrepit than he. And that was saying something. The old geezer had one foot in the grave.

“I think you should reconsider,” the hottie mechanic offered, trailing behind her. “It’s not safe. As I told you before—”

“Enough.” Phoebe stopped dead in her tracks and spun around. She stared him down—or up, if she wanted to get technical about it. “Look, I get it. But the truth is I don’t trust you. I think you’re trying to rip me off, and quite frankly, I’m sick of men trying to take advantage of little old me.”

Whistling to hide his laughter, the sex-on-legs mechanic clearly weighed her words, shaking his head and sucking in a loud breath. Strangely, he didn’t look offended; he just looked…disappointed, she guessed.

He wiped the back of his hand over his brow. “I like your bluntness, but I promise you, I’m being honest in my evaluation and fair in my pricing.”

With a roll of her eyes, she turned on her heels and continued toward the driver’s side.

“Miss Morris—”

“Dude, really. Even if I believed you, I couldn’t afford you.”

She opened the car door, squeaky hinges and all, and slid behind the steering wheel. She didn’t bother to put on the seatbelt. It was broken. She turned the key in the ignition, and with some persistent pedal pumping, the noisy engine finally flipped over.

Hottie sauntered to the open door and squatted, resting his elbows on his gorgeously thick thighs, showcasing the talent of ink on his arm. At six-foot something, in a sullied uniform that fit snug around greased-up muscles, her mind drifted to something other than her car trouble. In Phoebe’s fantasy, Hottie was offering her another way to pay him for his services.

And then he spoke and ruined it all.

“This vehicle is nothing short of a deathtrap. I’d prefer you didn’t get behind the wheel. Let me fix it. I think we can work something out—”

“Geez.” She held up her hand. “You’re hot and all, but seriously, let it go. While I was just imagining sleeping with you as well, I don’t think you could live up to my fantasy. Lord knows I don’t want you to spoil it any more than you already have, so I’m going to pass on your offer and get the hell out of here.”

Cocky amusement flickered over his face. His blue, almost-gray, eyes sparked. “Wow. I love your candor.”

New Release!

“Yeah, thanks,” she muttered, adjusting the mirrors. Now, if Hottie would just move out of her way so she could close the damn door.

“But,” he continued, “I was thinking more along the lines of a monthly payment plan on parts, and I would forgo the labor.”

Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, she huffed out a frustrated breath. Hot and exhausted, Phoebe was in no mood to consider stacking more bills on her already considerable debt. No matter how good he looked, smelled and sounded, she had to move on.

She shook her head. “Look, I promise I’ll stop at the next town. The clunkette here will make it that far before she needs more water or something, right?”

“It’s not gonna happen, sweetheart. The next place worth stopping at is Sayville, sixty miles out.”

As if agreeing with his assessment, the car sputtered, coughed a few more times, and shuddered in the throes of a slow death.

Couldn’t anything go her way? Why wouldn’t the damn engine give her a tiny break?

Hottie cocked his head toward the shop. “Come inside and we’ll figure some numbers. I promise, no rip offs.”

“I appreciate the payment plan, but I’m not sure when I’d be able to pay you.” Scanning the desolate horizon, Phoebe swiped a drop of sweat trailing into her cleavage and fanned herself. “Hell, if I’m honest, I’ll probably never be able to pay you, and I don’t feel right about that. I think it’s best if I just leave, take my chances and pray that I make it to the next city where I can trade this beautiful POS for something uglier, but more reliable.”

“POS?”

“Piece of Shit.”

Click here to get your copy of "HOTTIE" by Demi Alex & Tia Fanning at Amazon.com.

RESPLENDENCE PUBLISHING  -  AMAZON  -  KOBO  -  ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS

#love #romance #hottiemechanic #deercreek #demialex #tiafanning #wanttoreadmore

A New Release

Dear Readers, I know it's been a long time since I have posted to this blog. Please forgive me for that. Life is crazy sometimes. So why now? Well, after three long years, surprisingly, I have published a new story. It's really short, but it's a start. (Or in my case, a restart.) If you have a free moment, please check it out.

* * * *

The perfect assistant, Jessalyn Palmer is proud to work for Dr. Wilbur Stieran, a brilliant mechatronic scientist and world-renowned inventor. However, when her two years of flawless service is ruined by an unfortunate spelling error, Jessa finds herself over the boss’ knee.

A week later, Jessa is still trying to come to terms with the spanking and the conflicting feelings the punishment invoked. Embarrassed by her response to his loving discipline, she has avoided her boss as much as possible. Then the apprentices beg her to test drive Stern Stieran’s latest invention—his precious prototype, AllSPANC.

By the end of the journey, Jessa (the no-longer-perfect assistant) discovers that some mistakes are worth making, and that some lessons are worth learning the hard way.

Available Now from Stiff Rain Press

The tug of self-preservation insisting I eat the damn soup...

Taken With the Enemy is the book of my heart. What does that mean, the book of my heart?

For me, that means it's the book an author has to write even if no one wants to publish it. It's the book that an author drops everything for, including their current projects, to complete because they are feeling the story that strongly. It's the story with characters and a plot that is so much a part of the author that if they didn't put it on paper, the story would haunt them and they would never be able to move on to write something else.

In the end, it's the book that an author loves best of all their work.

Taken With the Enemy is the book of my heart.

Inspired by a dream I had, Taken With the Enemy is a contemporary spin of those old historical novels where the heroine ends up falling in love with her captor. I had locked myself in my basement to write this book, completing it in about one month, during the holidays, knowing full well that the story might never see a printing press due to its "politically incorrect" nature.

I mean, this is the 21st century; you do not fall for your kidnapper.

But is it possible that true love could form under such circumstances? Could a solid, secure, healthy relationship develop around abduction? Especially in a modern world where psychological conditions like Stockholm syndrome exist—a term often used to describe any attachment a person might feel for their abductor?

I like to believe it’s possible, at least for the characters in my story. (LOL!)

I’m a hopeless romantic. I’m an avid believer in the concepts of love at first sight, of love conquering all, and that if two people are meant to be together, true love will bloom regardless of the circumstances.

I am a romance author.

Cheers!
~Tia

* * * * *

Yanking the covers away, he grasped my arm and pulled me off the mattress. I was so shocked, I didn’t object when he dragged my ass into the dining room. He shoved me down into the chair at the head of the table.

“You will eat. Now,” he growled.

Staring at the steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup and the glass of fruit juice before me, I instinctively touched the spoon resting on the napkin, but drew my hand back. The thought of putting something in my mouth made me feel queasy. I really just wanted to go back to sleep. I was exhausted.

At the other end of the table, he angrily slid the heavy wooden chair out, marring the air with the shriek of scratching marble. I flinched, hating the sound that echoed through the room.

He sat and stared me down. “I said eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” I mumbled.

“I don’t care.”

The edge in his voice, the hard set of his jaw, and the dark gleam in his eyes cautioned me not to press the issue. But amongst the inner chaos that consumed me—including the tug of self-preservation insisting I eat the damn soup—was the overwhelming urge to rebel against his demand.

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warned, raising a dark brow.

What was I? A wayward child? If I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t friggin hungry.

I shook my head.

“Eat.”

It was all too much.

Frustrated, I slammed my hands down on the table’s surface. “I’m not eating this.”

“Yes, you are.”

I swept my arm across, knocking the bowl and the glass off the edge. They hit the hard floor in a shattering, splattering mess.

The gratification was short-lived.

Quick as lightening, he was out of his chair and in my face, as dangerous as the first time we met.

“I’m going to let that slide,” he growled, “because apparently, not having food for five days has made you irrational and far braver than you should be, given the circumstances.”

I glanced away.

He pounded the tabletop. “Look at me!”

Flitching, my gaze immediately jumped back to his, my heart thumping in fear.

“I am going to get you another bowl and you are going to eat,” he continued, enunciating each syllable with careful restraint. “And if you don’t, I will tie you to that chair and force feed you. Am I making myself clear?”

~Excerpt from Taken With the Enemy by Tia Fanning

* * * * *

“I am a fan of Tia Fanning and her work. She pens wonderfully entertaining stories that don’t disappoint her readers. This story was extremely engrossing and had me wondering the entire time what was going to happen to Brenna. I will definitely add this one to my library...”

--Diana Coyle, 5/5 and a Reviewer Top Pick, Night Owl Romance

It's All About Tia... Oh! And Tia's Tiara

Me at my very first book signing... (sigh...) I know, it's an awful picture. Goofy smile, scrunched nose, squinty eyes, buckteeth, double chin...

I also know you all are wondering why I'm wearing a tiara on my head.

Seriously, that tiara helped me out a lot. Others wondered the same thing and kept coming to my table. I managed to sell out of my books that day, and I truly think the tiara is the reason why.
;)

I began writing early on in life, as most writers do, but I took a very nontraditional path to becoming an romance/erotic romance author. Believe it or not, I began exploring my passion for writing as a poet. Don't get me wrong, I had always loved reading stories, especially tales involving some kind of romance (like fairytales), but it was not something I ever thought I would write.

Poetry was my outlet. Not only did I want to tell a story, but I wanted it to be beautiful, lyrical, flow the way a whisper is carried on a moonlit breeze. I wanted my words to wrap around the reader and subtly caress their senses. I wanted to pull at that secret place deep inside a person where fond memories and distant dreams resided, and take them far away from the harsh realities of the world. (Fluffy, I know…)

While I wrote poetry, I continued to feed my other passion—reading. Everyone once in a while, I would stumble across an author that wrote stories the same way that I strove to write my poetry. Not only were these stories beautiful, romantic, stirring, but they were written in a way that made me feel what I always endeavored to make others feel with my own work.

Because of this influence, my poetry slowly evolved into short stories. But as time went on, I grew older, wiser, and eventually moved into adulthood. Sadly, I abandoned my childhood aspirations so that I might concentrate on other “grown-up” things. However, the more I lived life and learned what a cruel place the world could be, the more I grew bitter and jaded. (sigh…)

Thankfully, while I gave up writing and my desire to be a writer, I never gave up reading romance.

So years passed and I matured physically, mentally, emotionally, and finally sexually, (or in some order close to that) and I discovered that my reading tastes also matured. I found that I still wanted the romance, but I also wanted the passion to be a little hotter. Reading myths and fairy tales gave way to sweet fantasy romances, which gave way to historical romances, and—now confident and secure in myself and my sexuality—mainstream romances gave way erotic romances.

One day I met a wonderful man, and like a storyline from one of the many books I read, we fell in love and got married. A little less bitter and jaded with life, I started writing again. (LOL!)

So, here I am.

I believe that my work today is a blend of all I confessed above. I find that many of the stories I write, whether it be contemporary or paranormal, still have the element of fantasy and fairytale that I loved so much as a child. My stories promote the ideals of love at first sight, of extraordinary things happening to ordinary people, the concepts of fate, destiny and coincidence, and always have the perfect happily ever after.

However, I also find that most of my characters (especially my heroines) tend to exhibit a very... um... realistic attitude that many associate with the modern world. I think it makes the story interesting when the heroine comes across with that honest “this is freaking unbelievable, but since my luck is so bad, I shouldn’t be surprised that it happened to me” attitude. I like to think it allows readers the ability to relate to a character, and this makes the overall “fairytale” feel of the story believable—like it could happen to any of us at any moment.

Cheers!
~Tia

Official Website: www.tiafanning.com

MySpace Page: www.myspace.com/tiafanning
Official Blog: www.tiafanning.blogspot.com

YouTube: www.youtube.com/tiafanning

NowLive: www.nowlive.com/tiafanning

You can also find me hanging out at Amazon (www.amazon.com), Fictionwise (www.fictionwise.com), Coffee Time Romance (www.coffeetimeromance.com), and of course… Resplendence Publishing (www.resplendencepublishing.com).

A Letter To My Readers...

* * * *

www.tiafanning.com

Dear Reader,

Welcome to a world where love, romance, and desire burn as hot as flame...

Whether you want to read about love at first sight, or a reunion of love from the past, there is a story to be found here. From contemporary romance to the paranormal, from the shy heroine who has a secret love of adult toys, to the powerful hero who uses magic to protect the love of his life, in this world, the flames of passion and romance are fanned to scorching levels as love conquers all.

I love hearing from my readers, so please, feel free to contact me by e-mail at tia@tiafanning.com or befriend me on MySpace at www.myspace.com/tiafanning.

Sincerely,

Tia Margaret Fanning
"Fanning the Flames of Romance"