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About the Author
Callie Wild spent her childhood devouring fairy tales and her teen years soaking in a powerful marinade of historical bodice rippers and 1980s time travel romances. She finished her first book at age ten, a friends to lovers story featuring too much kissing—at least according to the English teacher who called her mother in for an after school conference—and has been writing ever since. She loves stories that are hot, fast-paced, sexy, steamy, sweet, and a little silly and is so excited to share her Kinky Adult Fairy Tales with readers.
Contact Callie at [email protected]
Please Enjoy This Excerpt Of
TAMED, A Kinky Adult Fairy Tale
About the Book
TAMED: A Kinky Adult Fairy Tale
Bedding the Bad Girl Book Two
The Big Bad Wolf has met his match…
Katarina knows that Serge should be off limits. Not only is he a bad boy and a womanizer, he's her boss. But after a hot encounter in his limo, she realizes that some things-like chemistry, biology, and the irresistible lure of Serge's sexy accent-cannot be denied.
Soon Serge has tamed Kat's savage beast and claimed her heart as well, but can he build a life with a woman who has as many skeletons in the closet as he does? And what will happen if the sins of their past refuse to stay buried?
A sexy, stand-alone continuation of Snow White with shades of Red Riding Hood. No Cliffhanger.
TAMED
by Callie Wild
Katarina was a handful and strung so tight she looked as if she would snap in two. She was too tall and too thin, her breasts were barely apple-sized, and he imagined her hipbones would stab a man to death if he ever managed to convince her to let him be on top. She was also older than Serge’s usual girl—somewhere in her mid-thirties, though her tomboy figure made her appear younger. Her only real draws were her luxurious dark red hair that looked as soft as silk, and her stunning sea-green eyes.
But who could enjoy them when she kept her sharp face narrowed in a glare half the time?
Kat Masterson wasn’t his type, not any of them, and he was a man who appreciated a
wide variety of feminine charm. She was also currently in his employ, making her off-limits. He didn’t cross that line. Sure, he had danced along it from time to time, but never crossed it.
Work and sex mixed about as well as peanut butter and salami.
So why was he so drawn to her?
“I’m sorry we got off to a rough start. I’m just really nervous.” The flush across the bridge of her nose highlighted freckles he hadn’t noticed before. “It brings out the bitch in me.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” That was exactly what he would have said, but she was clearly trying to make a fresh start and the freckles were cute. They softened her a bit, allowing him see the woman she might have been if her life had taken a different direction.
“You’re nice. A liar, but nice.” Her tongue slipped out to dampen her lips. “So listen, I know giving me any kind of artistic control is off limits. I get that. I just want a fair shot and a chance to show my good side as well as my bitchy one. Is that something we might be able to agree on?”
Serge nodded, still feeling bad for hurting her feelings back at the office. “Yes. I want this to be a fair competition. I’ll speak to Matthew and let him know I expect as much. Backstory is acceptable, forcing a narrative is not.”
“Thank you.” Her smile was stunning, transforming her thin face into a thing of beauty. “Seriously, thank you so much. I really appreciate it, Serge.”
With a soft sigh of relief, she leaned back against the seat to look out the window, clearly content to take the rest of the ride in silence. If only she’d chosen to cross her legs, as well. Maybe then he would have been able to look out the window, too.
As it was, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the long, toned lines of her calves, or the creamy insides of her thighs. He could just glimpse where her thigh-high pantyhose ended and her slightly paler flesh began, and it was enough to succeed where Sally’s teasing hand on his thigh had failed.
The swelling against his fly was so surprising it made his heart skip a beat. He had been having a hard time getting aroused for almost a year. He’d even made a visit to his doctor in hopes of discovering what was the matter with him. He loved women, he loved making love to them, and he’d never had a hard time getting it up before, even four or five times in a single night.
He had feared a circulatory problem or that his compulsive protective measures might have failed him. But even a venereal disease seemed preferable to the even more horrific culprit of “old age.” He was only forty-one; he should have at least a decade or two left in him before he was forced out to pasture.
He had submitted to what seemed like a million tests only to discover that there was nothing physically wrong with him. It was something else, something twisted up in his mind that was taking its toll below the belt. It was frustrating, embarrassing, and at times flat out enraging.
