From the Publisher
Gay romance fiction in the Dom/sub genre
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Contentment it's said is a pearl of great price, but contentment is
something that Lee is far from feeling on this particular Saturday
morning in hot July.
Hurling up the shutters I unlocked the shop door, quickly disabling the
alarm and stepping thankfully into the cool interior. It was only eight
a.m. but already the sun was giving out a generous amount of heat, as
was my backside, both sources of heat seeming to lend credence to the
pessimists' proclamations about global warming. The cause of my own
particular global warming peeped the horn of his car as he prepared to
drive home. I pointedly refused to turn around and raise a hand in
farewell. At that moment in time the only thing I felt like raising was a
middle finger, and I knew that would not be well received, just as my
announcement at breakfast had not been well received.
Firmly closing the door behind me I made my way to the rear
of my florist shop to begin work on the day's orders. Four weddings,
two funerals, several birthdays, a lone anniversary, plus a few
miscellaneous were on the agenda for this July Saturday. Summer of
course was popular for weddings though I have never personally
understood why. What sane person opted to drag through a hot day in
restrictive formal wear, heavy layers of silk, velvet and voile, or their
synthetic equivalents, according to the budget of the couple in
question. Still, I plugged in the kettle to make tea. It was my job to
produce the floral trimmings, not meditate on the wisdom of getting
hitched in the height of summer.
As I waited for the kettle to boil I meditated instead on the discipline
that Tony had meted out not an hour since, it had been harsh, or maybe
the fact that it was the first time in a while made it seem so. I was right
off Tony if truth were told. I really didn't see why he should have
disciplined me so severely for doing something that was entirely my
business and nobody else's. Just as I didn't see why he'd taken away
my car keys the previous week, making me necessarily more
dependent on him. To my mind he was being dictatorial just for the
sake of it and I was sick of it, and sick of him. The kettle boiled with a
rush of steam and I poured water onto the bags and put the teapot lid
back on, reaching back to massage my tender buttocks as I waited for
the tea to brew. Thanks to Tony, I'd be in discomfort for much of the
day. I was damn well going to put that wicked wooden hairbrush in the
very next charity bag that landed on the doormat.
Making a deliberate effort I turned my mind from personal
woes to work.