Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-189-3
Genre(s): Hot Flashes, BDSM
Series: Snowfire Multi-Author Series
Length: Hot Flash
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-189-3
Genre(s): Hot Flashes, BDSM
Series: Snowfire Multi-Author Series
Length: Hot Flash
Blurb:
When Kassie’s big-shot boyfriend dumps her, she slinks back to her isolated hometown to lick her wounds in private. But a well-endowed snowman and a reunion with an old flame makes sure her homecoming sizzles with passion.
Excerpt:
Kassie stepped back and studied her masterpiece. She'd taken the art of snow sculpting to a completely new level. Her snowman was a snowwoman – with all the anatomical parts to prove it. Pert, up-tilted breasts with naughtily pebbled nipples adorned the snowy chest while curvaceous hips narrowed down to a smoothly shaved pussy.
She snickered at the thought of Gerald William Dwyer, of Dwyer, Dwyer and Sons, Inc., driving up to her little house and seeing the very unladylike snowperson in her yard. Of course, that wasn't likely to happen. He'd be too busy with the little tart he'd dropped her for. After all the effort she'd put into being the perfect little lady just to please him, he'd dumped her for an over-painted, underdressed bimbo.
She shivered as the cold started to penetrate her winter clothing. Dusting the snowflakes off her leggings, she headed back inside.
The little house wasn't much, just a three-room cabin in the frozen bush of Northern Ontario, but it was hers. Thank goodness, she wasn't prone to cabin fever. She'd grown up here, attending school in the small town down the road. She'd dreamed of what she'd do when she grew up and left to conquer the world, but she'd never appreciated its isolation as much as she had in the past couple of weeks, while she hid from the world to lick her wounds and kick herself forever trying to change just to please a man.
Shedding the layers of heavy winter clothing, she stirred the coals in the woodstove and added another piece of birch wood before curling up on the sofa with her book.
She snickered at the thought of Gerald William Dwyer, of Dwyer, Dwyer and Sons, Inc., driving up to her little house and seeing the very unladylike snowperson in her yard. Of course, that wasn't likely to happen. He'd be too busy with the little tart he'd dropped her for. After all the effort she'd put into being the perfect little lady just to please him, he'd dumped her for an over-painted, underdressed bimbo.
She shivered as the cold started to penetrate her winter clothing. Dusting the snowflakes off her leggings, she headed back inside.
The little house wasn't much, just a three-room cabin in the frozen bush of Northern Ontario, but it was hers. Thank goodness, she wasn't prone to cabin fever. She'd grown up here, attending school in the small town down the road. She'd dreamed of what she'd do when she grew up and left to conquer the world, but she'd never appreciated its isolation as much as she had in the past couple of weeks, while she hid from the world to lick her wounds and kick herself forever trying to change just to please a man.
Shedding the layers of heavy winter clothing, she stirred the coals in the woodstove and added another piece of birch wood before curling up on the sofa with her book.
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