- Sign up sheet (to play)
- Register prize donations
- Code of conduct
- 2013 FAQ (will be updated with a few changes for this year)
UPDATE: Okay, okay. I get it! You need more time to write your elf stories. I will give you one additional day to add your elf story below. You have until midnight EST on Sunday the 21st. Happy? 😀
“Ow, Mrs. Claus!” Elf Pizelle yowled as she clutched the rungs of sturdy wooden chair she hated more than anything. “I didn’t…stop it!”
Mrs. Claus hauled Pizelle further across her lap, nearly sending the elf into a faceplant on the floor. She shook out her hand before applying the enormous wooden spoon to the seat of Pizelle’s bright green trousers. “An entire plate of my best sugar cookies! I’ve a good mind to call all the elves in to see how I deal with theft. Do you know how much butter costs these days? Not to mention the lost time and labor.”
Pizelle tried to listen to Mrs. Claus’ lecture, but the wooden spoon commanded her full attention. “If you’d listen to why I took them,” she begged.
“That will give the cookies back?” Mrs. Claus flipped up Pizelle’s cranberry-edged tunic and emphasized each word with a solid smack. “You. Stole. My. Cookies.”
“Ow!” Tears streamed down Pizelle’s cheeks, and her legs scissored in desperation. “Okay. I’m sorry. It was wrong! Can I just tell you why I did it?”
Mrs. Claus paused. “Do you remember what these delaying tactics got you last time?”
Pizelle shuddered. The threat of a second spanking at bedtime from Santa, that’s what it had gotten her. And Santa, already stressed with last-minute preparations, had asked Mrs. Claus to perform the honors instead. Mrs. Claus was not pleased at having to give the second spanking herself, and she had used the cane. In public, in front of the entire elf population of the North Pole. Pizelle’s bottom recovered long before her pride did, and none of the elves had let her live it down.
“I was wrong,” Pizelle admitted. “I shouldn’t have tattled on Olive then, but this time I had a good reason. I promise. Just let me tell you. If you don’t think it’s a good reason, I’ll take the rest of my punishment without any fuss.” She crossed her fingers. She couldn’t make good on that promise, at least not with Mrs. Claus this angry, but it was worth a try.
Mrs. Claus’ answer came in a rapid fire of swats, each one causing Pizelle to nearly break resolve. She gritted her teeth but managed not to let out more than a few muffled cries. After a pause, the stern voice resumed.
Pizelle started to slide off Mrs. Claus’ lap, but another swat stopped her. She blushed, swallowing her tears and shame, and fumbled for words. How could she talk with her face smushed into Mrs. Claus’ ample red skirt and ruffled apron?
“Leila was upset–”
“Louder!” Mrs. Claus barked.
Pizelle turned her head, sighed, and began again. “Leila was upset, and–”
“Leila Feran. Ma’am.”
Mrs. Claus shifted position, and Pizelle cringed. No retribution followed, however. “Leila Feran who was on my naughty list until two weeks ago because she still hasn’t learned to control her temper?”
“Yes ma’am.” Pizelle suppressed a sigh of relief. She’d gotten this far. Maybe Mrs. Claus would let her finish. “Carene had promised to spend Christmas in New York, even though she hated the crowds and noise, and Leila had spent weeks preparing. Then Carene had to cancel because of a teachers’ strike and her school district threatening to fire everyone, and Leila…”
Mrs. Claus’ tone softened. “Go on.”
“You can’t!” Leila pleaded when Carene phoned with the news. “I’ve got tickets for the Met, and I was going to take you on a carriage ride in Central Park.”
“I’m sorry,” came the answer. Carene hated disappointing her hotheaded partner. “We have to stand by in case the administration calls for more talks. I’ll go out as soon as the strike’s over.”
“When will that be?” Good old Leila. In the past, she would have erupted at not getting her way. Carene could hear her fighting for control. “It’s the fifteenth today. I’ll switch our tickets from tonight until Christmas Eve. You’ll be here by then, won’t you?”
“I can’t promise,” Carene began, but Leila’s newfound calmness got the better of her.
“You can do it if you try,” Leila said, and against all better judgment Carene agreed.
“You better,” Leila warned.
“Or?” Carene hugged herself, wishing it were Leila’s delicate violinist hands entangled in her hair.
“Or I’ll take that paddle of yours and…”
“Leila!” Carene laughed, warmed all over. “That’s my job!” Christmas Eve couldn’t come soon enough.
Pizelle licked her lips. She wasn’t sure whether she should continue. The next part might get Leila back on the naughty list, despite all of Pizelle’s trouble…and that would mean incurring Mrs. Claus’ wrath for nothing.
“Leila, uh…she was kind of upset.”
“Ow!” Pizelle pitched forward and had to steady herself with a hand to the floor.
“Fibbing will get you extra.”
“I’m not–OW!” Pizelle writhed as Mrs. Claus set to correcting the latest decoration of the truth. “Okay! I’ll tell the rest of the story.” Under her breath, she added, “For a grant of transactional immunity.”
SMACK! “That’s enough Good Wife reruns for you. No more television for the rest of the year.”
“But, Mrs. Claus…” Pizelle felt Mrs. Claus’ nimble fingers at the waistband of her knickers, and she quickly changed her mind. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Finish telling about Leila.”
“Yes, ma’am. Well, the strike continued, and the teachers were told by the union to stay on call through the new year. Carene had to call Leila, and Leila had to cancel all of their New York plans and fly to Carene instead. Leila hates the small town life, you know.”
Mrs. Claus patted Pizelle’s bottom, causing the hapless elf to sigh in relief. “What happened?”
“I made you some cocoa,” Carene coaxed, walking her pointer and middle finger up the back of Leila’s neck. “Do you want some marshmallows?”
“No, thanks.” Leila shook off Carene’s touch and bent down for her violin case. “I should get in some practicing.”
“It’s Christmas Eve,” Carene protested. “Your concert isn’t until mid-January.”
“Yes,” Leila said pointedly. “It’s Christmas Eve. We should be at the Met listening to La Traviata. Not pimply adolescents coming by to butcher We Three Kings.”
“I couldn’t help it.” Carene fell back as if Leila had slapped her. “Do you want me to lose my job?”
“Yes! I told you I’d get you a better one in New York. You could set up a private studio, only take the most talented kids, earn three times as much..”
At that, Carene straightened her spine. They had gone over this old argument more times than she cared to remember. “I respect your need to live in New York and play with the Philharmonic, so you respect my need to live in a small town and teach junior high orchestra.”
“Unless it’s inconvenient for you.” Leila spat out the words. “Thanksgiving? Your mother was sick. How many times have I had to come to you in the past six months? We were supposed to do this fifty-fifty, Carene. So why are we spending my two favorite holidays in your nowhere of a town?”
Pizelle interrupted herself. “She didn’t really mean it.”
“She meant it,” Mrs. Claus said to herself. “And yet she’s on the nice list. Why?” Her voice deepened. It became soft. Dangerous. “What did you do, Pizelle?”
“N-n-n-othing,” Pizelle stammered. “Just shared joy and light of the season as you and Santa wish me to do.”
“Ow!” Pizelle cried. “Ow! How will I ever sit down to cobble shoes if you don’t stop that?”
Mrs. Claus hauled down Pizelle’s polka-dot panties and covered the pinkened elven flesh with a flurry of wooden kisses. “One more time, and without the sass or so help me Santa I will make you wish you were never born.”
“I already do,” Pizelle muttered. “No! No! Don’t! I’ll be good!” She howled so loudly that Mrs. Claus couldn’t hear the words, and at long last Mrs. Claus ceased spanking to allow Pizelle to sob across her lap. “I’m sorry! I’ll never say or do anything I shouldn’t again. I’ll never take any more of your cookies. I won’t try to help anyone get off the naughty…” She gulped.
“What did you do?”
Carene retreated to the kitchen and poured the still-steaming hot chocolate down the drain. She shook, fighting tears. Should she have abandoned her responsibilities and gone to Leila instead? Leila was right. Carene hadn’t kept up her end of the bargain, but neither had Leila. She’d promised to leave Carene in peace, but every visit to New York meant endless harangues on why Carene should give up her job. Carene had come to dread the visits, dread the time together, and dread the touch of the woman she loved more than life itself.
Anger gone, Leila’s voice crooned with sweetness and a hint of…could it be…playfulness?
“I’m busy.” Carene turned on the hot water and scrubbed the spotless mugs.
“You haven’t opened your present yet,” Leila chided, coming behind her to wrap her arms around Carene’s waist and rest her chin on Carene’s shoulder. “I spent a lot of money on it, too.”
There went Leila again, flaunting big-city big-income perks.
“I’m busy,” Carene snapped, continuing to soap the red-leaf mugs.
“C’mon,” Leila purred, spinning her around and placing a small gilt-edged box in her hand. “Open it.”
Carene stared first at the box and then at her childhood best friend who had grown up into the most infuriating lover a woman could have. “No…” she whispered, refusing to touch the box.
Leila paused and disappeared into the living room. She returned with a hint of sugar on her lips, and she leaned in to transfer that sugar to Carene’s, licking to make every granule count. She broke a round white cookie in half and popped it into Carene’s mouth, caressing her cheek while Carene chewed.
Warmth spread through Carene, warmth and tenderness. She could feel the hot summer sun beating down as eight-year-old Carene and Leila picked dandelions and chased each other across the lawn.
“Get off the grass!” called out a camp counselor. “Leila and Carene, if you’re late to rehearsal one more time I’m calling your parents.”
“What’re you gonna do, spank us?” Leila gave a rude gesture as Carene pulled her into the woods.
“Shh!” Carene giggled. “You promised not to tell anyone!”
“What?” Leila blinked innocently. “That you like to spank me?”
Carene blushed to the tips of her ears, unable to move. Leila leaned in to kiss her cheek before turning around and wiggling her strawberry-print shorts. “Kissed me, kissed me, now you gotta spank me…”
Carene laughed and swatted, unable to understand the tingling that electrified her entire body.
“Carene?” A full-grown Leila traced the edge of Carene’s jaw, feeding her another piece of cookie.
Carene swallowed, catching herself before she teetered off-balance. Leila’s dark eyes gazed at her with such love, such tenderness, and a hint of primal desire that scared her. No, that used to scare her. Oh, all right. That still scared her. Carene had grown up with sweetness, love, decorum, and a sense of duty. Leila’s passion was still as foreign to her as it was decades ago.
Leila brushed the last crumb from Carene’s lips and knelt. Right there on the tiled blue-and-white kitchen floor, holding out the golden box. Leila took Carene’s hand and interlocked fingers to open the box together. Inside lay a plain gold ring studded with a single amethyst. Carene’s birthstone.
“Leila, I…” Carene’s voice trailed off. Wasn’t a diamond more traditional? Or didn’t Leila mean…but then why get down on her knees…?
“Pretend that we’ve just seen the same opera we saw on our first date,” Leila crooned, mesmerizing Carene with each syllable. “Pretend that we’re surrounded by snowy park grounds and I’ve tucked you into a snug blanket, and the horse is pulling our carriage past the fountain. The fountain where you found me after our first fight, when you stormed out of my apartment and said you were through and we could never be together.”
“I didn’t storm out. I said I needed some space,” Carene interrupted, but Leila paid her no attention.
“Where I brought you some bread crumbs to feed the pigeons the way you always wanted to do, even though the stupid dirty birds are a nuisance and real New Yorkers hate them.”
Carene laughed. “They’re pretty.”
“And where I said that if coming to New York made you this unhappy, I would give up the Phil and move to be with you all the time. And you said…”
Carene blinked, remembering and saying the words. “That I love every part of you, even though I hate the parts that take you away from me. And we had no problems a good, old-fashioned paddling wouldn’t cure.”
It was Leila’s turn to laugh. She took out the band and slid it onto Carene’s left ring finger. “And you promised me.”
Carene nodded. “So did you.”
“If I take your last name, will it save me from the latest ‘cure’ I’m sure you’re planning to deliver?” Leila remained on the floor, waiting.
Carene caught her breath. “My last name?”
“I’d have to remain Leila Feran for stage purposes, but at home…” Leila looked up with such sweet trust and submission that Carene’s eyes filled with tears. “At home, I want to come to you as Mrs. Carene Moraghan.”
“Don’t be so old-fashioned,” Carene said, trying to keep herself from breaking out into wild, erratic laughter. Never in her strangest dreams had she pictured Leila Feran wanting this. “Mrs. Leila Moraghan is just fine. And…”
Leila jumped up to throw her arms around Carene’s neck, laughing and crying. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk,” she said. “It didn’t matter where I proposed…it just mattered that I did.”
Carene sniffled and wiped her eyes. “And what did I tell you about the house rules here, Mrs. Moraghan?”
“I can’t wait to find out,” Leila drawled. She unbuttoned Carene’s blouse.
“No divas. And…”
“Yes, Mrs. Moraghan?” Leila slid the silky fabric over Carene’s head. “Ooh, someone went to Victoria’s Secret again? After I told you not to? Naughty. Guess I better take back your other Christmas present…”
“Don’t you dare,” Carene gulped, prickling with anticipation as she watched Leila unzip her own blouse. “No. No seducing me to get out of your punishment. March yourself to the bedroom and set out your paddle.”
“Yes, Mrs. Moraghan,” Leila cooed, cupping Carene’s chin to draw her in for a lingering kiss. Carene gasped as Leila sashayed out of the kitchen, shedding clothing with each step. “I’m waiting,” Leila called.
Carene opened the freezer and took out an ice pack. She held it in her trembling hands, steeling herself to remain firm. To hold fast to principles and…
“Oops,” Leila exclaimed from the bedroom. “My panties got stuck on your bed post. So I’m completely undressed…”
Carene dropped the ice pack and ran to her fiancee.
“Spank me.” Leila lifted her bottom and looked over her shoulder. “Kissed me, kissed me, now you gotta spank me…”
Later, Carene spooned Leila while reaching down to squeeze the red-hot glowing bottom cheeks. “What changed your mind?”
“I’m an angel straight from heaven,” Leila said with a poker face. She laughed as Carene gave a little swat. “I heard a knock at the door and found a box wrapped in a bow. It said to eat one and share the other with you. I might not have shared the entire cookie…”
“Naughty,” Carene mused.
“Very,” Leila agreed. “Perhaps you should cure me so I can learn to share.”
“Well,” Mrs. Claus said grudgingly. “That explains two cookies. And the others?”
Pizelle squirmed. “Am I out of trouble?”
“No. Answer the question.”
Pizelle sulked but re-thought her attitude. She didn’t want to provoke any more anger. “Natalie Mestecom was in a bad mood for the past month because she doesn’t like going through counseling, and she was taking it out on Kat. Kat was so upset she started hiding in the library instead of going home. Normally Natalie would have taken care of the issue with a good spanking, but she was too absorbed in her own issues. So Kat thought Natalie no longer cared, and she did some stupid things. I left them each a cookie.”
Pizelle sighed. “Karielle and Soris were tougher. Soris still thinks Christmas is a pagan holiday, and Karielle wouldn’t dare do anything after the punishment she got for putting up the Hollow Bean tree last year. So I broke up the cookies into crumbs and put them into Karielle’s apple pie. She got a spanking from Soris, but it was a nice one.”
“That’s six,” Mrs. Claus agreed. “There were at least a dozen.”
“Spring has been so good this year that she almost didn’t need the cookies. She’s been writing and working hard, and she only gives Rachel sass for a joke.”
“So Rachel was disappointed. She missed spanking Spring, and Spring missed it even though she couldn’t understand why. So Spring got cranky and…”
“I can imagine,” Mrs. Claus interrupted. “I broke more than one spoon over that stubborn author’s backside. It’s a miracle it only took one cookie for her.”
Pizelle grinned. She was safe! “Spring ate the cookie and confessed that she missed Rachel’s attention. They’re going on their first date next week, but Merry doesn’t know. Ironic, since Spring accused Rachel of sexual misconduct.”
“And the rest?”
“Mira’s parents were coming for a Christmas visit from the US, and she was nervous that they wouldn’t like Hana. Hana was so busy with a big embassy trip that she wasn’t around to reassure Mira, and Mira’s mother said a lot of things. Mira was so angry at what she thought was homophobia that she told her parents to go back and never come again. But…”
“I’m assuming the cookies worked their magic?” A hint of pride crept into Mrs. Claus’ voice.
“Well…Mira’s mother admitted she didn’t like Hana, but not because she was a woman. Stacy was afraid Hana would be transferred back to Japan and take Mira with her. Stacy wants Mira back in the US for good. She’s tired of her daughter living overseas.”
Mrs. Claus nodded. “Hana should have kept better tabs on her girlfriend.”
Pizelle hastened to reassure her. “Oh, she is. She had a long talk with Mira about proper behavior, and Mira’s back into school girl clothes at home for the rest of the week. Hana even got Nurse Trinity to visit, so Mira’s being sent to bed and woken up with a spanking every single day. Only problem is that Mira can’t keep her hands off Hana long enough for Trinity to spank Mira properly, and when Mira’s supposed to serve out her punishments in the corner or writing lines *Hana* can’t keep her hands off Mira.”
Mrs. Claus laughed. “How that cinnamon oil working for them?”
“Brilliantly,” Pizelle beamed. “Mira hasn’t sat down comfortably for six days, and Nurse Trinity’s agreed to stay for another week. She even had a Castle rocking chair shipped over from Ohio, and she says if Mira won’t settle down quick-smart there will be a rattan cane to go along with it.”
“Well done.” Mrs. Claus patted the elf’s bottom. “What about the last two?”
“Talia and Vina?” Pizelle blushed. “Vina caught Talia dozing off during a cabinet meeting, and Talia’s always hated all of her tutoring sessions. Vina insists Talia must be ready to step in as queen should anything happen to her, but Talia won’t take it seriously. You know that spanking doesn’t help much as Talia adores it.”
“Adores the belt,” Mrs. Claus corrected, “but not hand spanking.”
Pizelle nodded. “Well, ever since the last ‘ritual,’ Talia refuses to submit to a handspanking again. She hates being that vulnerable. So she threatened to run away, and…”
“Let me guess,” Mrs. Claus broke in. “You changed her mind with a snitched cookie?”
“Er…” Pizelle fumbled for words. “Everything is happy now in Queen Vina’s kingdom, and they can’t wait to visit Earth in a few months?
“You haven’t told me the most important part,” Mrs. Claus said, in a tone that made the poor elf’s insides shake harder than Santa’s bowlful of jelly. “Just how did you get these cookies in the first place?”
“P-p-p-please,” begged Pizelle. “I saved all of them from the naughty list. Please don’t…”
“Did you,” began Mrs. Claus as she rubbed her might spoon against the defenseless nether cheeks. “Did you enter my kitchen after you were specifically told not to do so?”
“Yes ma’am, but you see I was just trying to…”
“HOLY CANDY CANES!” Pizelle shouted, nearly leaping off Mrs. Claus’ lap in terror. “Please please please! I’ve learned my lesson and I won’t steal from you again!”
“You haven’t learned your lesson yet,” said Mrs. Claus with an ominous lift of her spoon. “But you will.”
“Nooooooo!” wailed Pizelle, and her screams shook the entire North Pole. “But I got everyone off the naughty list! You can’t!”
“Yes, I can, Pizelle, and do you want to know why?” Mrs. Claus deafened Pizelle’s cries with a thunderclap of wood against flesh.
“No! I mean yes, ma’am.”
“In all of your effort to get divas and authors and daughters and wives off the naughty list, do you know whom you forgot?”
Dread sank into Pizelle as she began to understand. “Noooo,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Mrs. Claus agreed. “You forgot to take off your own name. And if you don’t want to be on my naughty list this year and receive a stocking’s worth of coal that will translate into a switching every Saturday next year, you’ll take your punishment like a good elf. Or you can march yourself down to the unemployment office right now and get transfer orders. Perhaps Antarctica needs a penguin keeper.”
Pizelle covered her face in terror as the dreaded Mighty Spoon of Claus descended. “No!” she howled.
“Yes,” Mrs. Claus repeated. “Elf Pizelle, I will get you back on the nice list if it’s the last thing I do. And you, my dear, will not sit for a week.”
As Pizelle bucked and cried across her mentor’s lap, she dissolved into tearful peace. Mrs. Claus was spanking her naughtiest elf, and all was right with the world.
If not with her bottom.
Today’s challenge: Write your own naughty elf story using one or more characters from an Ana Vitsky book. Have a question about a character? Ask me in the comments, and I’ll try to answer as quickly as I can. Feel free to insert yourself and/or other naughty miscreants into the story. Have fun!
Characters featured in this story:
Music. Without the love of her life, how can Leila learn to live again?
Professional violinist Leila Feran is accustomed to fame as the youngest and first female concertmaster of the Philharmonic Symphony. Driven to achieve ever-increasing heights, she injures her wrist so badly that she may no longer be able to play. While she recovers, she moves in with her childhood best friend, a pianist and beloved orchestra teacher in a small town.
Carene welcomes Leila with open arms and only one condition: no divas allowed. And if Leila can’t follow the house rules, she might find herself over Carene’s knee…or worse. In between arguments over physical therapy and house rules, Carene’s zero-tolerance policy regarding divas results in some old-fashioned discipline that changes into something more.
Will Leila and Carene’s new feelings for each other blossom into something wonderful? Or will Leila lose not just a friend, but her potential soul mate?
THE WAY HOME
Natalie always wanted a little sister. Kat didn’t know she was allowed to want anything…or anyone.
Kat, a shy farmgirl, arrives at her freshman dorm with a backpack, a suitcase, and her mother’s wish for Kat to attend college “at least until you get married”. Her roommate Natalie, a confident and fun-loving social butterfly, decides sight unseen that Kat will become her best friend for life. Natalie teaches Kat about college life, academics, and friendship by taking Kat under her wing…and over her knee.
Then their lives fall apart one fateful night on campus, and for the rest of the decade Kat and Natalie struggle to find their way back to each other. Their way home.
LIGHTING THE WAY
College roommates, best friends, and family. Can Kat and Natalie find a way to stay together…without killing each other?
Kat Astra knows one thing: everything is her fault. A dead-end job. A fear of confrontation. An inability to speak up when necessary. Desertion of her best friend in her time of need.
Natalie Mestecom knows one thing too: everything Kat does is Natalie’s fault. The relationship rule is simple; Kat has problems, and Natalie fixes them. But what worked in adolescence becomes more complicated with adulthood, and new developments in their relationship challenge these roles. Kat is no longer sure whether she is willing to be disciplined according to Natalie’s rules, and Natalie is no longer sure whether she is worthy of Kat’s trust.
Can Natalie allow herself to be vulnerable? Can Kat believe in her own strength? Can Natalie believe in Kat’s strength? How will they, each in their own way, learn to move beyond guilt and blame in order to forge a new relationship together? In order to make peace with themselves and each other, Kat and Natalie reconnect with family, re-visit memories of their past, and make plans for taking steps forward in the future. To light their way home.
DESIRE IN ANY LANGUAGE (book one)
MIRA’S MIRACLE (book two)
MIRA’S DESIRE (box set of both books)
Mira thought she wanted a spanking. What she got was love.
On her own for the first time, Mira is studying abroad for her translator’s certificate. Unfortunately, the heady excitement of dance clubs, late-night parties, and endless shopping quickly distracts her from her educational goals. Mira’s advisor offers her private tutoring, but the combined pressures of culture and language difference threaten Mira’s progress at school. She is unable to get her act together until she makes a discovery that horrifies and tantalizes her: in her new country, corporal punishment is a way of life. The secret to her academic success just might also fulfill her wildest, unspoken dreams.
Sexy. Seductive. Dangerous. A poignant and compelling read.
Whisked away to the fairytale Castle for a dream vacation, Mira confronts her darkest fears.
Vacationing at Master Marshall’s world-renowned Castle should have spelled Fantasy Land, but for Mira the trip means paying a debt. She promised to work hard at her translator’s certificate course while her advisor went on maternity leave, but distraction arrives in the form of her first love. Diplomat Hana Takahashi, from Desire in Any Language, captures Mira’s total attention. Between Hana’s stringent embassy security and Mira’s draconian school dormitory curfew, their stolen kisses drive Mira wild with desire. Hana makes a bet with Mira: keep up with her schoolwork or take a trip of Hana’s choice, according to Hana’s rules. No veto power.
When Mira presents her inadequate end-of-term report, Hana books a dream vacation—of Hana’s dreams. Safe within the Castle, the elaborate role playing kink haven, Hana turns Mira into her little girl. Complete with a private nurse, playroom with its nanny in charge, and a schoolroom filled with naughty pupils and a stern teacher, the Castle’s ageplay wing reduces Mira to a child from the moment of her arrival. Hana’s word is law, and all of the Castle employees carry out her orders for Mira.
However, Mira’s natural resistance leads to tantrums, defiance, and spankings from every adult who assists with her care. When she encounters a tutor who triggers her deepest fears, she must face her residual trauma over the duplicitous “Mistress Susan.” Is Mira ready for the maternal nurturing offered by Hana, or will her unhealed wounds drive everyone away? Can she become Hana’s little girl, or will she safeword out of the Castle to return to everyday life…without Hana? Will there be a miracle for Mira?
What if heterosexuality were a crime?
Betrothed at birth to the daughter of one of the most prominent Houses in the totalitarian theocracy of Bastia, soon-to-be-college-graduate Clissa isn’t sure whether she is ready to undergo the Mar. Once she becomes the Nur, or the submissive partner, to her betrothed she will have to submit all major decisions of her life to the beautiful Helaine whom she has only met once. She must marry a woman, according to the decrees of Bastian law.
Caught between his desire to “get along” and the growing awareness that he is “het” and is attracted to Clissa, Destral kisses her one day as they study in their college library. Shocked at the feelings the kiss awakens, Clissa begins to question everything she has been taught. Did Basti, their deity, really decree that it was sinful for a man to be with a woman? Will her growing feelings for Destral cost her everything that her parents have worked hard to give her?
In a mad attempt to subvert Bastian authority, Clissa and Destral run away to find the Het Pride, a group that preaches tolerance, equality, and peace. Z, their leader, promises that one day hets will achieve equality and freedom. When the Bastian police capture or kills most of the Het Pride, however, Clissa is assigned to new parents for “reeducation” in the doctrine of Bastia. Her new parents are given one mandate: Bring her back to rightness with Basti.
Clissa, lost in a system that is threatened by her very identity, must make her choice. Will she be broken by Bastian authority, or will she find a way to break free? Can true love overcome a harsh regime?
THE VENGEANCE OF MRS. CLAUS
In some countries, turning 21 means gaining the right to vote and drink alcoholic beverages. For Claire Labraun, the Christmas after her 21st birthday would be beyond her wildest imagination.
Minelle and Matthew Labraun believed in a traditional marriage. Matthew was head of their household, and Minelle was his helpmeet. When it came to raising their headstrong 21-year-old daughter, however, they found themselves at a loss. Minelle had always taught Claire to do the right thing for right’s sake. Claire, however, had different ideas. She rebelled against their rules, flaunted authority, and connived to get things she wanted. She had never been spanked in her life; Matthew and Minelle kept that adult privilege strictly between themselves. But this year, a visit from Santa plus Claire’s newly adult status would change her idea of Christmas forever.
Award-winning author Spring Meadows and newspaper-turned-literary editor Rachel Templeton have one thing in common: they can’t stand each other. Spring is sure that her bestselling talents single-handedly keep her publishing company afloat, while Rachel would like nothing better than to take this smart-mouthed, button-pushing prima donna down a peg or two. When Spring makes the fatal mistake of accusing Rachel of sexual misconduct, Rachel decides to teach her a lesson.
“What is an author to an editor?” Spring asks herself. If only she had been prepared for Rachel’s answer…
Born to a destitute woodworker who wanted a son to carry on the family business, Talia grew up with one phrase on her lips: “If I had been born a boy.” If she had been born a boy, she would have been cherished, supported, and launched into the world with her father’s legacy. As only a worthless girl, she toils all day long to earn her handful of inferior grain.
Far away in the heavenly palace, Queen Vina receives a mysterious coin necklace from Nicodemus, teller of stories. Compelled by the throbbing heartbeat, she scours the earth to come across Talia, enslaved to a family who never wanted her. Rather than admit her motives, Vina purchases the girl with a sackful of gold. Furious, betrayed, and homesick, Talia endeavors to share her misery with the entire palace. Vina, afraid to confess her love, allows herself to become trapped in the role of brutal slave owner.
Talia, bred to expect nothing but misery, faces the first choice of her life. Will she accept love, even if it comes from an unlikely source? Or will she reject the one who offers her everything?
Not featured: Daughter of Discipline, Ana Adored (should be published soon, I hope!) and Freiya’s Stand (still no publication date) as well as “Living in Sin,” which will come out on March 11, 2015.
Today’s challenge: Write your own naughty elf story using one or more characters from an Ana Vitsky book. Have a question about a character? Ask me in the comments, and I’ll try to answer as quickly as I can. Have fun!
- Day 1: Welcome and Introductions
- Day 2: Giving Tuesday
- Day 3: 2nd Annual Holiday Recipe Exchange
- Day 4: Hating the Elf on the Shelf
- Day 5: Blue Christmas
- Day 6: St. Knickerless Day
- Day 7: Beyond Fairytales
- Day 8: Beginner’s Guide to Lesfic
- Day 9: Holiday Carol Sing-a-long
- Day 10: Creating Something Good, Part 1
- Day 11: Healing and Emotional Responsibility
- Day 12: Creating Something Good, Part 2
- Day 13: 3rd Annual White Elephant Gift Exchange
- Day 14: Creating Something Good, Part 3
- Day 15: Holiday Memories
- Day 16: Chag Chanuka Sameach!
- Day 17: Choosing to Believe
- Day 18: Sex Toy Story 2
- Day 19: On love and loss