The Best Present Ever

By Patricia Pellicane

He'd do anything for her, even if it took the magic of Christmas.

Elizabeth Pennyworth has come to town to teach, only to find the schoolhouse and her living quarters in shambles. The mayor hired her through the mail, so she goes to the mayor to find a solution to her problem. How can she teach the children their lessons?

Zachary Bond is delighted to find the newest and by far the prettiest of Fancy's girls in his office and doesn't hesitate to sample this delightful piece. That she acts like a lady only further intrigues him. A bit too late he discovers her true identity. He is determined she will soon belong to him...Zachary has lessons of his own to teach.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
• Release date: Dec 21, 2009
• ISBN: 9780857150028

Patricia Pellicane

Patricia Pellicane lives with her husband on Long Island in New York. Her six children live in neighboring towns as do most of her sixteen grandchildren. Her favorite hobby is reading. Patricia insists her ideas for stories come while doing dishes. “Could anything be more boring? It’s nearly impossible to keep your mind from wandering.” In a recent interview she was asked: How hard or easy is it for you to write? Patricia’s response, “Someone once wrote. ‘Writing is easy. All you have to do is put a sheet of paper in a typewriter and stare at it until blood forms on your forehead’. Sometimes writing is exactly like that. And other times it’s a wondrous happening where words flow from mind to fingers to computer screen almost without conscious thought. It doesn’t matter which way it works for you. Once a writer begins the journey, they’re hooked. It’s a drug and you can’t stop looking for that next story, that next high.”Patricia’s fans can contact her at, [e-mail] or stop in at her website at www.patriciapellicane.com Click under Books for a list of her twenty-two printed published books and About Me to catch a glimpse of what Patricia thinks about life in general and more.

Book preview

A Total-E-Bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

The Best Present Ever

ISBN #978-0-85715-002-8

©Copyright Patricia Pellicane 2009

Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright December 2009

Edited by Michele Paulin

Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2009 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.

Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-sizzling.

THE BEST PRESENT EVER

Patricia Pellicane

Dedication

To my family, my best and most eager fans.

Chapter One

The floor was a disgusting affair. Dirt mixed with rain, and the horror that had once filled the tipped and now empty spittoon brought shivers of revulsion down her back. Lizzie raised her skirt lest the hem touch upon the slimy concoction. Through a crowd of men on this Sunday evening, she gently and deliberately  picked her way towards the bar, while averting her gaze from a tasteless nude that hung behind the long, wooden structure. Ignoring the men and their first startled and later all too interested looks, she pulled her hanky from her sleeve, breathing in its delicate scent in an effort to ease the worst of the obnoxious odours of stale whisky, cigar smoke, the sour scent of unwashed bodies and an occasional gust of just about gagging perfume. The saloon smelled at least as bad as it looked. Lizzie thought it most unfortunate that the mayor of Glory should have secured offices at the back of a saloon. Too late, she wondered if she wouldn’t have been better off waiting at the hovel of a schoolhouse after sending word for Mr. Bond to meet her there.

Lizzie stopped at the bar and waited for the bartender to leave the woman he currently eyed. In truth, it was less the lady herself but rather the lady’s bosom that held his full attention, for even as they spoke, he didn’t appear to be looking anywhere else. Lizzie cleared her throat twice before he managed to tear his gaze from the generous display of milky, white flesh and make his way towards her. Despite her modest mode of dress, his gaze widened with interest. Obviously, it wasn’t often that a lady of quality entered this place, and his look of amazement told her as much. Is Mr. Bond in? she asked.

Down the hall, miss, he returned, with a definite leer. Last door on your left. Then not quite under his breath, he added, Lucky bastard.

Lizzie pretended not to hear and followed the man’s instructions. Moments later, she reached the door and knocked. No answer.

She had no choice. She stood near stairs that lead to the second floor and didn’t want to think why a line of disreputable, dirty cowhands continuously went up and came down. One after another, they passed her, eyeing her in a most unseemly manner. She wasn’t about to wait in the hallway, an easy target for any unscrupulous sort to misuse. Lizzie took it upon herself to open the door and was immediately rewarded for her efforts with the warmth of a fire. She shivered as she felt the heat, never realising until that moment that her one and only coat was hardly enough to combat the cold nights of Nevada’s desert.

Upon entering the room, her eyes widened with surprise to find it richly appointed with softly, glowing wood. A huge mahogany desk stood before a leather chair, behind both  stood a sideboard holding stacks of papers and a few framed pictures.

Her eyes grew even larger with amazement as she took in the walls. For a lady like herself, it was like stumbling upon Shangri-La. But for the fireplace, the walls were lined ceiling to floor with books. More books than she’d seen in any library. It was wonderful. And it smelled clean, like lemon polish, like the delicious scent of leather, like a man’s spicy cologne, like a hint of smooth whisky and a trace of cherry pipe tobacco.

The room was empty. An invitingly warm fire glowed at one end, flanked by two comfortable looking chairs.

It was a large room, almost as large as the room out front, but quiet, serene, a marked distinction from the crowd, noise and unpleasant odours in the saloon. Lizzie took off her hat and smoothed the few errant strands of silver-blonde hair that had fallen from her pins. With her hat, coat and purse on a chair and her carpet bag on the floor beside it, she bent at the waist to examine a loosened button on her boot, never realising her backside faced the door and offered the man who silently entered the room a deliciously appealing sight. 

Very nice, he said just as his hand slid over her rounded rear in an impossibly familiar fashion.

Lizzie gasped and shot upright, straighter than her ruler, her back ramrod stiff, every muscle harder than the writing slates in her trunk, her eyes round with astonishment, her lips thinning with dawning anger at the unbelievable gall of this grinning oaf.

The man’s eyes widened with obvious appreciation as he walked around her still form to face her. "Fancy didn’t tell me her newest girl was a beauty. Damn, but you’re apt