Romance and Spanking and Delicious Food!

I've been neglectful in mentioning my latest Discipline and Desire book, a long contemporary spanking romance novel titled "The Baker's Man."

The book is special to me, because it's the first real novel I ever wrote. Years and several edits later, it was ready to be published. I hope you'll find the story of the four main characters--Lena, her younger sister Annie, Lena's catering rival Jackson, and Jackson's main employee, Ricky--as happy and sad and romantic as I do. Below is a description of the book, and the entire first chapter. Happy reading!

THE BAKER'S MAN by Barrie Abalard

"After years of hard work, Lena Korhonen and her sister Annie are finally making it as caterers when rival caterer Jackson Portsmouth appears, threatening their livelihood—and Lena's heart. The two are thrown together when Annie is injured, and Lena's cantankerousness requires Jackson to spank her—more than once—to bring her around. Well-matched in many respects, the two fall in love with each other when they work a job together.

But an overheard phone message after a night with Jackson convinces Lena she's put her trust in the wrong man—again—so she backs out of the catering job she was supposed to work with him. Then someone sabotages Jackson, jeopardizing his reputation and career, forcing Lena to decide if she’ll obey her heart and stand with him rather than against him. Only now, an angry and heartbroken Jackson wants nothing to do with her. Will these two stubborn people, made for each other, ever combine their hearts and lives and find a spanking-ever-after happiness? Read "The Baker's Man" and find out!"

Excerpt from "The Baker's Man", © 2008 Barrie Abalard. All rights reserved.

Karolena Korhonen turned to watch as the man in the old Mercedes sedan pulled away. She narrowed her eyes, automatically memorizing his plate number. At first she'd thought he was a potential buyer for the triple-decker across the street, but the longer he’d parked there, the more she'd wondered about his purpose. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had expressed interest in the dump. The place across the street had been on the market for so long, the metal “FOR SALE” sign was rusting.

She had sensed his eyes on her, so she’d patted her right front pocket to reassure herself that her cell was still there, available for any emergency. Although she liked her new digs, this area of Gainesborough occasionally had problems, and any stranger sitting in a car staring at her rather than going about his business made her wonder exactly what his business was.

Still, she had caught a glimpse of simply styled, jet-black hair, a strong profile, and large, capable-looking hands. She imagined his long, tactile fingers skimming slowly down her torso, trailing fire. She also imagined his hands spanking her bottom with authority, as if he had a perfect right to do so. Then those long fingers of his would explore the hot wetness between her legs…



Looking down, she realized she'd neglected to put on a bra earlier, something that was all too apparent now that her body was responding to her fantasy. Scolding herself for her foolishness, she descended the ladder. She had to go find an undergarment to immobilize her bouncing breasts. Damn it all, she was still tingling, and she had work to do.

A vehicle pulling up behind Lena startled her. A mixture of relief and love replaced nerves as a blue-eyed, pixie-sized woman with burgundy-dyed hair bounced from the car. She was teetering on platform slides, and wearing a skimpy halter and micro shorts that made underwear irrelevant.

"Lena, you won't believe what happened,” the pixie said, dancing around her.

She glared. A couple of bandages would have covered more skin. If she'd been home earlier when her little sister left, Lena would never have allowed her to go out dressed like Paris Hilton.

"Annie, what are you doing, dressing like a slut?" Lena crossed her arms, effectively flattening her chest. Her little sister’s petite stature always made her feel so big and lumpy and ugly.

Annie, ignoring the pointed comment, plowed ahead. "Come with me tonight to Jillian's in Boston to celebrate. We can play a little pool, get a little crazy, maybe meet an interesting man or two, especially if you wear what you've got on—"

"I will not go out in public without a bra, not in this tank top. Besides, you know I'm not interested in attracting men right now. What are we celebrating?"

Annie fluffed her hair. "You simply have got to get over this ridiculous complex about your looks. I don't have half the curves you do, and I do all right."

Lena snorted. "Yeah, I know. Thanks for reminding me what a big, fat-assed loser I am. What a sister, what a pal."

"What you are is gorgeous. You're the kind of woman that men dream of, despite the popularity of rail-thinness." Annie hugged her, and Lena found it impossible not to soften. She'd do anything for her little sister, and had, starting way back when their mother died.

"All right, enough nonsense. What's your big news?" Lena smiled to mitigate her gruffness.

"I found a job. A really good one. I'll be able to earn enough this summer to pay for all of next year's schooling. And I only have to work four nights a week, eight to three, so I can help you out around here."

"Three in the morning? What sort of job is this?"

"It's at, uh…" Annie mumbled, grabbing her purse and heading for the house's entrance. "Got to run, I've got a date with something called fun tonight. You remember what that is, don't you?"

Lena grabbed her sister's ear and immobilized her as she tried to slip past. "Annie, tell me right now. Everything. Or I swear I'll ground you."

"Ouch, let go of my ear! You wouldn't dare."

"Yeah, well, maybe I would. Maybe I should." Lena tugged and Annie squeaked. "Out with it."

"I, um, have a job as a waitress."

"Pray tell, where are you waitressing until nearly dawn?"

Annie toed the sidewalk, not looking Lena in the face. "The Pussycat Lounge. They pay really, really well, and the tips are supposed to be incredible."

"Let me get this straight. You'll be serving drinks four nights a week in a strip joint to a bunch of obnoxious jerks who are going to pinch your butt and paw your breasts while you prance around in four-inch spikes and a second-skin, thong-style teddy."

"And your point is? Ow!" Annie said as her sister tugged her ear again.

"My point is, why not go all the way and strip for the money? I'll bet that pays even better.” Thank heavens she was the one who had been blessed with common sense, even if she didn't have Annie’s looks. Her little sister had both beauty and brains, but less common sense than would fit in her microsized pink purse.

"I just want to pull my share of the load. You haven't had it easy, taking care of me since Papa died. I know how you've worked to make a life for us. Why won't you let me do this? I want to give, not just take," Annie cried. She collapsed against Lena, who enfolded her sister in her arms and let her sob. Poor kid.

Annie had been only twelve when Papa died. It had been August, barely a month before Lena would have started in the Culinary Arts program at Johnson and Wales University. She'd planned her life precisely—first school, then an apprenticeship, then work as a sous chef, and then head chef, capped by establishing and running her own four-star restaurant. Her plans had included wealth, maybe even fame. Instead, Lena had been forced to work two jobs while pretending an adult relative lived with them whenever the social workers investigated, which wasn’t often. Somehow she and Annie had stuck it out together, she the sober ant, toiling for the future with no thought of present pleasures, and Annie, the party-loving grasshopper who landed in trouble a few times. Her kid sister was a sucker for a handsome face. Lena had never disciplined her sister for those mistakes the way Papa would have if he'd been alive, and she was proud of the fact.

Lena hugged her sister tighter, feeling tears sting her own eyes. Here she was, damaged goods at twenty-seven, with a little sister who was twenty-one and living life at one hundred miles per hour. She just wanted Annie to be happy and safe and to have an education in something more than parties and men.

"You’ll never have to worry as long as I'm around, buttercup." Lena stroked her sister's trembling back, wishing Annie had left her hair blonde instead of dying it such a weird red shade.

"But I want to help." The suffering in her sister's face as she lifted her head to look into Lena's eyes almost broke her heart. Annie toiled as much as she did. True, she played as hard as she worked, but she was a good kid. Not to mention she was all the family Lena had left.

She smiled. "Kiddo, just get a job bagging groceries. Or land some temp work. Don't worry about the money. We'll make it. We always do." She pulled her little sister along, left arm entwined around her, a waif protected by an earth mother as they mounted the front steps together.

Annie stopped short, tears not dry on her face, yet grinning when she saw the fruit of her sister's painting labors. "Hey, the house looks bitchin'. I told you mauve and sky blue were the way to go."

Lena shook her head. Her sister's emotions could change faster than a ricocheting bullet. "Yes, you were right, I was wrong, sing the song, all day long."

"Nyah-nyah, nyah-nyah-nyah." Annie finished their private childhood ditty, a bratty smirk on her face.

"Get inside now, girl." She couldn't remember a time when she hadn't played Mama to Annie, she realized, suddenly feeling old. And because Papa had turned harsher and drunker after Mama passed on, Lena had been the protective big sister as well. She lied, claiming her sister's misbehaviors as her own, and took her father's punishments, the nights without supper, and the beatings as her sisterly duty, for she was older and stronger and better able to bear it than fragile Annie. Papa, she knew in retrospect, had been an abusive tyrant. Squeezing her eyes shut, Lena’s breath caught, lost in the recollection of hurts inflicted by the hands and words of a broken, lonely man who vented his anger at his wife's early death on his elder daughter.

"Only if you come with me to Jillian's tonight."

"What?" Lena struggled to come back to the present, away from painful memories. She'd walked down the hall to the kitchen yet had no recollection of it.

"Jillian's! Say we can go, puh-leeze?"

"I can't. In fact, you can't go, either. We've got planning and maybe some shopping to do. I landed a gig for Saturday."

"Who? What?" Annie swept her up in a mock-tango. "Dahling, don't hold back."

Lena ducked her head in amusement while spinning around the enormous first floor kitchen. "The Jakes family, you know, the ones that own half the town? Tiffany is graduating and 'she simply must have my Mocha Coconut Cake.’" Lena’s Mrs. Jakes imitation made Annie giggle. "Enough for one hundred of her closest friends. We're both going to be making precious little tea sandwiches and baking cakes out the wazoo starting early tomorrow morning. Dahling."

Her sister pogoed with delight. "Woohoo! I hope you charged her a pretty penny and a half."

"Of course I did, but it was still less than the other caterer she had lined up, apparently. That's because I have help that works cheap. Dirt cheap."

"Dirt cheap, that's me." Annie shook her upper body as a stripper would.

Lena winced. "Annie, tell me that you don't do things like that in public. Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know."

"Don't you worry, mamakins," Annie cooed, "li'l Annie can take care of herself."

Lena sighed as her sister bounded up the stairs to the second floor and her own little piece of privacy. Annie was a terminal flirt, but love had eluded her. Her seemingly outgoing and bubbly sister kept her own counsel in such matters, but Lena’s heart ached each time Annie's latest golden hope turned to dross.

Love. Only once had Lena thought she was in love, and was loved in return. Betrayal, anger, and hurt surged through her, as did the feelings that made her body wriggle with delight. Lust, that's all it had been, just like the lust she felt earlier after seeing her unknown admirer.

She thought again about the man's hands, imagining them spanking her bare cheeks, then comforting her after the spanking was over. Then those hands would slip under her shirt…

Lena shook her head. Admirer? Who was she kidding? He was spying on her, for God's sake, and who knew what he intended. It didn't matter if you were petite and beautiful like Annie or tall and muscular like her, they all wanted the same thing.

She leaned against the fridge, a quirky half-smile curving her lips. Men might be pigs, but they sure could make you scream with joy. Maybe it was time to go find a sex buddy. She could live without love, but she needed sex, or she’d go bananas. Without sex, she had nothing in her life but work and sleep.

A voice inside her crooned, Imagine getting spanked by a no-nonsense man, the way you were once, last year. Imagine how he’d rip down your cutoffs, bend you over his knee, and crack his palm against your squirming backside. Imagine how much it would sting, imagine the heat you’d feel, and not just in your bottom. Imagine how he’d kiss away your tears, how he’d spread your legs, unzip himself, and slide inside. Imagine how his thick shaft would stroke you, inside and out, until—

She ran herself a glass of water and drank it, determined to banish sexy fantasies from her mind. Still, the heat in her delta lingered as she thought of the dark-haired man in the sedan. Slowly she climbed the stairs, enjoying the sensuous movement of her ripe body.

Excerpt from "The Baker's Man", © 2008 Barrie Abalard. All rights reserved.