With the wedding of his nineteen-year-old stepdaughter Emily fast approaching, billionaire Jason Garrons would like nothing more than for the event to bring the family together after the tragic death of Emily's mother, but constant bickering between Emily and her sister seems set to ruin any chance of that. On top of everything else, the wedding planner is getting on Jason's last nerve.
Though she jumped at the chance to plan a high-society wedding, when Maria Sali pushes Jason too far she is shocked by his reaction. After making it clear that he is done putting up with her sharp tongue and headstrong attitude, he bares her bottom and spanks her soundly in her own office. To Maria's surprise, the humiliating punishment leaves her deeply aroused, and she soon finds herself imagining what it would be like to be more thoroughly taken in hand by a man like Jason.
Maria is not the only young lady in need of stern correction, however, and when Emily's gets drunk and causes a scene at the bridal shower her fiancé decides that it is time for her to learn how a firm-handed husband deals with a naughty bride. But when the moment for Emily to walk down the aisle finally arrives, will everything go smoothly or will it all end in tears?
Publisher's Note: The Billionaire and the Wedding Planner includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don't buy this book.
Here's a tease:
Emily still couldn’t believe her ears. How could this possibly be happening? Jason couldn’t really mean to spank Georgia, could he? And he couldn’t have just threatened to spank Emily, too, if…
If what?
If Emily kept being what Georgia had earned the spanking for calling her. Emily did realize that she had taken some positions on matters having to do with the wedding that some observers might have called slightly unreasonable. But a girl only got to be a bride once. Hopefully. Emily had dreamt of her wedding day since she had seen her first princess movie. She had talked about it with Georgia, with her friends, so many times, before she had met Albright and while she was dating him, the man Emily had decided she would marry. Now that he had finally proposed, and all the talk had become reality, it had to be exactly as it was in her mind, when she had talked about it, and dreamt about it…
With Mom.
Mom had known Albright, at least, before she went into the hospital for the last time. Actually, she had seen Albright, then, for the first time since Emily and Albright had attended a preschool together than neither of them could recall, though of course Anne and Priscilla remembered it vividly—especially how Emily had poured a bucket of papier-maché or something over Albright’s head.
So how could Mom have said, so close to the end, “Don’t marry him for me, Emily”?
Emily had pretended not to understand, as she stood by Anne’s hospital bed. “What are you talking about, Mom?”
“I can see it in your eyes, when you look at him. I know you think it’s all love, and I do think there’s a lot of love in it, but…” Anne’s eyes had filled with tears. Emily had taken her hand, and started to cry herself. “You need someone firm, Emily. Firmer than I could ever be with you. I don’t know if Quint…”
“Albright,” Emily had said automatically.
Anne had crooked a wry smile up at her. “I think he likes Quint.”
“But the shark movie…”
“I think he likes the shark movie.”
Then they had laughed, and the subject had thankfully dropped, and not been raised again. Emily’s final parting from her mother had been comforting and peaceful: a promise to find her truest self, and live it; a promise to accept Jason’s help in finding it; a promise to care for the people around her, to honor her mother’s legacy of loving service.
Georgia had walked from the table, her face a bright scarlet and her eyes fixed on Emily. Something in those eyes accused Emily of bringing this humiliation on her sister, but Emily also saw in Georgia’s brow a strange air of meaning, as if her younger sister were saying, I told you so.
For a moment Emily couldn’t think what it could mean, but then, with a blaze of heat in her face that exceeded even what she had felt the first time Jason had said a spanking, she remembered. Georgia had sworn that one night, just before Mom got sick, she had heard Jason spanking Mom. Georgia had said that she couldn’t figure out what could possibly be going on, that she felt sure Anne would call the police if her husband were hurting her. She had knocked on the door, and Anne had come to answer it, with a smile on her face, though Georgia said she did look like she had been crying.
That couldn’t be what Mom had meant about firmer, could it?
“Go on, Georgia,” Jason said. “Let’s get this over with.”
The younger Easton girl turned back to her stepfather. “Could I have it with my jeans on, please?” she asked.
Emily’s mouth hung open at her sister’s quiet tone, her apparent acceptance of Jason’s strange, awful bargain: continued financial support in exchange for an acceptance of some bizarre idea he had of discipline for adult women.
“No, Georgia. Having your pants taken down, or your skirt raised, for punishment is a big part of the lesson you’re going to learn.”
Emily looked at his calm face, at Georgia’s red one. “Georgia,” she said, hardly knowing where the words came from, since they were so unaccustomed to come from her mouth, “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to Priscilla.”
“Yes, you will,” Jason said. “But your sister is getting spanked for what she did, not what you did. After her spanking, you can go to her room to comfort her, and talk it over, and she can apologize to you, too, for what she decided to say. Right now, Georgia, you need to get your naughty backside upstairs, and do as you’ve been told.”
Tears were forming in Georgia’s eyes as she turned to obey. Emily said, “May I comfort her now?” hearing in her voice a respectful tone and not knowing from where it had come.
“No,” Jason said. “Georgia needs to think about what she did, before she’s spanked.”
Georgia gave a little sob at that, and ran up the stairs.
Emily, chewing on the inside of her cheek, stared at her plate, utterly at a loss as how to respond to what seemed a strange but unavoidable new reality. Jason’s voice called her from her reverie.
“If you need a spanking in the future, Emily. I’m going to give you a choice. I can give it, or I can tell Quint, and see what he decides.”
She felt her brow pucker as the warmth again mounted into her cheeks. Anger blazed up alongside whatever else her suddenly wayward mind had decided to produce. She looked up at Jason and did her best to keep her voice steady, and to fill it with scorn. “Quint—I mean, Albright—would never spank me.”
“Well, then,” Jason said, seeming maddeningly amiable now, “you’ll want to have me tell him, won’t you?”
“No, I…” Why had she said that? She returned her eyes to the lovely swordfish Jason had made for this special dinner, which she saw now she had ruined, and she felt tears of her own starting in them.
“You don’t have to decide now,” he said, and now his voice even sounded kind. “But if you’re going to continue to be what your sister called you, you should probably think it over.”
