Spanking & Sprinkles: Love Is in the Air, page 1
Spanking & Sprinkles
The Love Is in the Air Series
by
Reba Bale
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
About This Book
About the Love Is in the Air Series
Dedication
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Maddie
Buck
Maddie
Buck
Maddie
Buck
Maddie
Buck
Maddie
Buck
Maddie
Buck
Maddie
Buck
Maddie
Buck
Maddie
Buck
Maddie
Buck
Maddie
Buck
Epilogue – Maddie
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Copyright
SPANKING & SPRINKLES
© 2024 by Reba Bale
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No portion of this book may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage retrieval system in any form by any means without express permission from the author or publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact the publisher at authorrebabale@outlook.com.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, organizations, or locals is entirely coincidental. Trademark names are used editorially with no infringement of the respective owner’s trademark. All activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood related.
Cover by Steph Brothers
About This Book
A grouch who’s really an alpha cinnamon roll, a sunshine who’s really a brat, and a Valentine’s Day date they’ll never forget...
Maddie
When you’re short and curvy and run a cupcake shop, people naturally think you’re sweet. Sweet – I hate the word! I can play the part, but my friends know the real me: she’s a little quirky, has the sense of humor of a pre-teen boy, and swears like a sailor.
After a string of dating disasters, two of my regular customers encourage me to sign up for the local radio station’s Valentine’s Day matchmaking contest. I’m about to tell them no, but then I see Hazy Cove’s tattooed bad boy is one of the contestants. After I pick my jaw up off the floor, I know I have to apply. Going on a date with Buck Henderson will be good for my business, and if the rumors about him are true, he might just help me break the long dry spell I’ve been in since I moved back home.
Buck
When you’re tall and muscled and run a tattoo shop, people naturally think you’re tough. And it’s true – except where my grandmother is concerned. When she decides to sign me up for some stupid dating contest, I don’t have the balls to tell her no, which is how I find myself clicking through applications from the women crazy enough to enter to win a date with me.
When I see the sweet little gal who runs the cupcake shop, I know she’s the one I should pick. All she’ll need to do is spend a few hours with me and she’ll run screaming from my dominant desires before she even gets a glimpse at my toy collection. I’ll be off the hook with Nana Daisy and maybe I’ll get some free cupcakes out of the deal.
Turns out my sweet little baker is submissive in all the best ways – and that smart mouth of hers is giving me all kinds of ideas...
Be sure to check out a free preview of Reba Bale’s erotic romance “Forbidden Desires” at the end of this book!
About the Love Is in the Air Series
Don't let their small-town charm fool you—these men are anything but innocent.
When a radio show contest in a quaint town on the Oregon coast goes viral, women from all over the region are vying for a chance to win a date with one of the five sexy bachelors. But on Valentine's Day, when the chosen ladies arrive, they'll discover that real small-town men are way less vanilla than a movie fantasy.
Will sparks fly and hearts be won, or will these arranged dates be a painful mess?
Check out the whole series at mybook.to/loveisintheair.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to fellow authors in this fun collaboration, some very cool people: April Cross, Kristin Lance, Meg Becker, and Eliza Black.
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Maddie
“Are you biting my ass, you kinky bastard?”
I looked over my shoulder at the tattooed hunk who was currently nibbling on the skin of my derriere. He looked up with a smile that most people would think was flirty if they didn’t know Buck the way I did.
“You have a bitable ass, darlin’,” he said, biting down hard to prove his point.
I yelped in pain, but the pain soon subsided, leaving behind a rush of moisture between my legs. Buck methodically bit a line up one butt cheek and down the other, soothing the bites with his tongue as he moved from spot to spot.
My hands were tied over my head, the rope looped over a pull-up bar Buck had installed in the doorway of his guest room. I pressed my naked body against the closed door, instinctively pulling away, but there was no place to go. I was trapped between the door and Buck’s enormous body.
I had a feeling that I’d be remembering those bites every time I sat down tomorrow. The thought made me smile.
I’d never understood the part of me that liked a little pain – craved it even – but I wasn’t about to analyze it too closely, not when I had a hot giant nibbling on my ass.
Buck slowly shifted to standing, rubbing his body against mine, his erect cock sliding between my ass cheeks.
“I’d love to fuck this ass,” he whispered near my right ear, right before he bit down on the lobe, causing me to squirm.
“I don’t do anal on the first date,” I said primly.
He chuckled as he rolled his hips, the motion making the tip of his cock move up and down my crack. I suppressed a moan.
“That’s okay, I’d prefer to wreck that tight little pussy our first time together anyway.”
***
One month earlier...
“You’re listening to James and Delilah, right here on KHZY FM. Now, who’s looking forward to Valentine’s Day?”
“Do we have to listen to this shit?” I hissed to my best friend and employee Lisa.
She looked up from the tray of cupcakes she was decorating and gave me a big smile.
“You may have noticed there’s not a lot of radio options here in Hazy Cove. Maybe you forgot while you were gone living your glamorous life in the big city.”
“Technically, Portland’s a small city,” I corrected, shaking a bottle of sprinkles over my own tray of cupcakes with a little too much vehemence.
I’d forgotten a lot of things about this small town on the Oregon coast while I’d been away living in Portland for so many years, including the way everyone in town was obsessed with holidays.
It didn’t matter what holiday. Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Flag Day, the citizens of Hazy Cove celebrated them all. Most of the time I didn’t mind, but all the hoopla over Valentine’s Day was really getting on my nerves. Everywhere I looked in town it was all big red hearts and cupids and love. I shuddered. It was still January for cripe’s sake.
My mother would say I was only cranky about it because I didn’t have a Valentine. My mother had always been way more romantic than I was, which was funny for a woman who’d gotten knocked up by her married boyfriend and then abandoned to raise her child all on her own.
I grabbed my tray of cupcakes and pasted on the sweet smile that residents expected from their local purveyor of cupcakes, heading out into the main shop area. After all, I had an image to maintain.
Culver’s Cupcakes, known by the locals simply as ‘the Cupcake Shop’, was a Hazy Cove institution. My grandmother had started a bakery specializing in cupcakes before I was even born. She’d passed on the shop – and her secret recipes—to my mother, and my mother to me.
Like Mom, I’d grown up here making cupcakes, but I’d always had bigger dreams. I didn’t want to spend my life making cupcakes for tourists and nosy locals, I wanted to move to Portland and make something of myself in the city.
And I had.
After getting my master’s in business administration at Portland State University I’d been snatched up by a local consultant company, providing technical assistance to small and medium sized businesses around the Pacific Northwest. In Portland I spent my days wearing heels and power dresses and analyzing spreadsheets and business plans. I spent my nights eating in fancy restaurants and dating rich guys in suits.
Six months ago, I’d taken a leave of absence from my job and come home to Hazy Cove to take care of my mother and the family cupcake shop. I traded power suits for cupcake themed dresses and put on the persona of the sweet and cheerful baker instead of a hardened business expert.
I’d planned to just keep things afloat until Mom got better and could return to baking. She was feeling much better, and thank God for that, but now she was making noises about retiring and passing the cupcake shop onto me. And for some reason, I didn’t hate the idea anymore.
I was going to need to make a decision sooner or later – go back to my high-powered job and my fancy condo in the Pearl District or pack up my stuff and move back here and spend the rest of my life quietly making cupcakes.
Honestly, I still wasn’t sure what I was going to pick.
I glanced out the window at the waves crashing against the rocks, a grey haze making the beach look almost spooky. The scene made me smile. This part of the Pacific coast was rarely warm, but the wind whipping across the rocky coast line called to me. It felt like home in a way Portland never had.
Grabbing the coffee pot from behind the counter, I wandered around from table to table filling up cups and chatting with the customers. Daisy and Wanda were huddled in the corner, looking at something on an iPad. The two older ladies were childhood friends who were somehow still getting into trouble long past the age where most people were sitting at home in their rockers.
Daisy looked like a sweet little old lady in her red velour sweatsuit, but I knew for a fact she was inked up from top to bottom and had been quite a hell-raiser in her youth. My grandmother had always talked about her in hushed tones, sharing stories of Daisy’s wild days before she married Don, opened a tattoo shop, and started a family.
“How are you ladies doing today?” I asked politely. “More coffee?”
I looked up to see Daisy watching me with an appraising look on her face.
“She’ll do, don’t you think?” she asked her friend.
Wanda looked me up and down. “She’s perfect. She’s pretty and sturdy.”
Oh my God, were these old ladies calling me fat? Sure, I was curvier than a lot of women, but I kept in good shape and dressed in a way that highlighted my figure. Well, back in Portland I did anyway. I was a little more lax about my appearance here, and honestly it was possible I’d been sampling our cupcakes a little too much. I resolved to do some Pilates tonight.
“Maddie dear, we need a favor.”
I felt a sense of trepidation. “What kind of a favor?”
“I need you to try to win my grandson.”
Buck
“Well, if it isn’t one of Hazy Cove’s most eligible bachelors!”
I didn’t dignify my friend – make that former friend – Jack’s teasing with an answer. Ignoring my irritation, he followed me to a booth in the back of the Hustler, a bar generally only frequented by Hazy Cove locals. That was the nice thing about the tourists, they rarely walked more than a block or two off the main promenade.
The Hustler had seen better days, but it was clean, served beer in chilled glasses, and had both darts and pool. It was the perfect place for hanging out with your friends, even if your friend was currently giving you a shit-eating smile.
I slid into one side of the vinyl booth, scooting towards the wall so Jack would have enough room for his legs under the table.
“I take it you saw the ads for the Valentine’s Day contest in the paper?” I asked, mentally cringing at the picture they’d included of me flexing my tattooed biceps like I was a bodybuilder or something.
“Oh no, I saw it on TikTok.”
“What the hell is TikTok?” I grumbled.
“It’s a video sharing application. You know, it’s the one where they do all the challenges and shit.”
I shook my head. “You know I hate all social media.”
Being humiliated on Facebook had a way of making a person wary of social media, especially if that humiliation involved a viral meme made out of a picture of your naked ass flexing while wearing a leather vest and holding a riding crop. Fortunately, most people thought I had a horse fetish, not that someone had broken the rules and filmed me at a BDSM party where I was about to fuck a submissive I’d just finished spanking.
Although my ass had gotten a lot of compliments, telling me that my workout routine was on point. People dressing up as ‘Buck’s Ass’ for Halloween that year was a little much though.
One of the servers came over to get our beer order, then Jack gave me a searching look.
“How did you – of all people – get signed up to be one of the eligible bachelors for the ‘Love Is in the Air’ contest?” he asked. “You don’t even listen to the radio.”
“It was Daisy,” I said, referencing my grandmother. “Ever since Papa died, she’s been hellbent on getting me married off. She decided that the radio contest would get me a wife while bringing positive publicity to the tattoo shop.”
“You could have told her no,” he pointed out, no doubt picking up on my distinct lack of interest in finding a date for Valentine’s Day, let alone a wife.
No one would ever mistake me for the marrying kind. I didn’t even believe in love.
“No one can resist Daisy when she’s got her mind set on something, you know that,” I said. “She does her sweet boring grandma routine, but she’s stubborn as hell and hard as nails. And the truth is, I just can’t say no to her.”
“Grandma’s boy,” Jack coughed into his hand.
I held up one finger in response. It wasn’t my pointer finger.
Ever since my grandfather had passed away a few years ago, I’d made it my mission to take care of Daisy, the way she took care of me as a kid. It was ironic since my grandmother got into even more trouble as a senior citizen than I did as a teenager.
My grandparents had taken me in after my dad took off and my mother got arrested on her third strike. They’d saved me from a life of shitty foster homes, and I was forever grateful to them.
I grew up helping around our shop, Tattoo Me, so it had felt natural to apprentice with my grandfather after I graduated from high school. I’d learned everything I knew about tattoo artistry from my grandfather and from my grandmother I’d learned the business side of things. Daisy had gifted me the shop when I turned thirty, but she still worked there most days, doing the bookkeeping, making appointments, and giving me hell about her increasing desire for a great-grandchild.
“So, what’s your plan to get out of this?” Jack asked, sending a flirty smile to the server as she set down our beers. “I know you have a plan.”
“I’m gonna find the sweetest, most innocent looking chick in the contest, take her out, then tell her I want to tie her to my bed, spank her ass, and fuck her doggy style,” I explained. “She’ll run off screaming, and I’ll be able to tell Daisy that I tried it her way, but it just didn’t work out.”
“That’s brilliant,” Jack said admiringly. “When do you get to pick out your date?”
“They’re sending me the questionnaires and pictures to look over on February seventh, then we’ll do an interview together and set up a date for Valentine’s Day.”
“Are you going to go to the Central Coast Social Club event tomorrow?” he asked, referring to our local BDSM club. They didn’t have a permanent location like you’d find in a big city, so events were scheduled at different locations each month.
“Nah, I promised Daisy I’d fix her sink and then stay for dinner.”
My grandmother had one rule growing up: never call her ‘grandma’ or any name denoting her status as a grandmother. Mostly I called her ‘Daisy’ unless I was pissed at her. Then I’d call her ‘Granny’, ‘Nana’ or something equally insulting.
“Well, I can’t wait to hear everything about your special romantic Valentine’s Date,” Jack smirked. “Who knows, maybe you’ll really fall in love.”
I snorted. Love was for suckers, everyone knew that.
“Fat chance.”
A few days later I got an email with information on all the women who’d applied for a date with me. I was honestly surprised by the volume of applications. Daisy had mentioned that the contest had gone ‘viral’. She’d explained what that meant – my grandmother was way more technologically savvy than I was – but I didn’t understand how big of a deal it was until I saw all the applications.
