LASSIE, COME HOME

LASSIE COME HOME

by Ree L. Diehl

Release Date 31 December 2020

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In Edinburgh at Hogmanay, cultures will collide….

Highland athlete Ross Carmichael is a mountain of a man and more than most women can handle. American Nora Taylor isn’t put off by his size, and she loves that he wears a kilt.

Now if she can just see what’s underneath it…

Lassie, Come Home is a 5,000-word erotic romantic comedy short story first appearing in A Curvy Christmas Anthology.  Written for Ages 18+.

Beta Reader Dawn Martin-Smith: I find it incredible that you have such a way with words, that under a different nom de plume the stories are so different. Nia, I love Ree L Diehl’s stories.  They are short, sweet and fucking hot!

Excerpt:

He’d given thought to what he had to offer a woman, let alone one as beautiful as she was.  His size intimidated most that he met.  Under a bit of paunch, he had enough muscle to tip the scale at three hundred twenty-five pounds and rank in the top ten of any Highland games that he competed in.

He was a mountain of a man.  Lucky for him, she was an avid climber.

After connecting online, he’d managed to talk her into visiting Scotland.  Now that she was here, he hoped that he could get her to stay.

Given her interests, he could tempt her with Harry Potter places, dangle castles and historic sites, and offer to guide her on a number of walking tours.  Today’s weather would have been perfect for it.  With temperatures hovering at fifty degrees Fahrenheit, the average tourist required no more than a light jacket or shawl.  Aussies wore winter coats, and braw souls from Northern climes sported bare legs and arms.

Ross gripped himself under the table and imagined pinning her to the wall of the lavvie and banging her senseless.

Christ.

He couldn’t wait to get her alone again.

BY GEORGE

BY GEORGE

by Nia Farrell

Length: 5,690 words. Release Date 12 December 2020.

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Musician George Elliott is in rehab, recovering from the car accident that nearly killed him. So far he’s beaten the odds, learning to walk and talk again (even if it’s with a stutter). He’s on the autism spectrum and struggles with PTSD whenever there’s a change—and everything is new to his injured, amnesiac brain.

He doesn’t know where his home is. He can’t remember what it’s like to be with a woman, but he very much wants to when he starts sessions with music therapist Carole West.

Plus-sized George finds himself falling hard and fast for a beautiful woman he doesn’t think he can have. But it’s Christmas season. In this short story inspired by the classic holiday film It’s a Wonderful Life, miracles do happen.

Originally part of A Curvy Holiday charity anthology, By George is a heart-warming BBM romance with a heat level of four, written for Ages 18+.

Beta reader Dawn Martin-Smith “God Nia, I don’t know how you do it. The story of George is absolutely fantastic. I had tears in my eyes pretty much from the get go. Your talent is incredible.”

Excerpt:

George felt his breath seize and fought the anxiety that made his chest tighten and his heart race. He’d never had panic attacks before the accident (or so he’d been told). Any change carried the threat of one—which sucked—because everything was new to his injured, amnesiac brain.

Tina rapped on the door.

“Come in.”

The voice that answered was as rich as dark chocolate and as sultry as a summer night. Tina opened the door, revealing a wall of musical instruments on the left. To the right, an electric keyboard sat by a set of shelves lined with drums and percussion. On the far side of the room sat the source of the voice, a beautiful blonde with a soft smile and compassionate eyes as blue as the azure sky.

“Hi, George,” she said, rising from her office chair and rounding her desk to greet him. “Do you know who I am?”

Should he?

Anxiety clawed at his chest, tearing ragged holes in his breath.

“That’s okay, George,” she quickly assured him. “My name is Carole. Carole West. Can you say it?”

“Cuh-Cuh-Ca-rrrole W-Wuh-Wuh-WWWest,” he managed, cursing his stutter that the accident hadn’t taken with his memory, damn it all.

She beamed at him like a teacher with a prize pupil. “Very good, George! Now, come on in. Have a seat. I have some things I want to show you, and then we’re going to try some fun things that I think you’ll enjoy.”

Carole looked at Tina. “Thanks for showing him down. I’ll buzz you when we’re through.”

The door closed, shutting the two of them in together. George lowered himself into an empty armchair. Carole sat on the piano bench and looked at him sitting white-knuckled with nerves.

“Are you okay, George?” she asked, all solicitousness. “I know this is a break from your routine.”

Evidently, he was on the autism spectrum, too.

He hated that she knew it. He couldn’t hide his stutter but he’d become something of an actor, able to convince people that he was just like them.

“I’m f-f-fine,” he grunted, sounding sulky, regretting that he had too much going against him to interest anyone as lovely as her.

“Oh, George,” she sighed, blinking away the moisture that sprang into her eyes. “You’re here. You’re strong—stronger than you know. I want to show you something and hopefully give you some new goals to achieve.”

Rising, she picked up a remote control from her desk, aimed it at the DVD player, and pressed a button. A concert lit up the screen, starting with a shot of the guitarist’s hands, his fingers dancing over the strings, his soulful voice serenading the fans who’d come to see him perform.

The camera angle shifted, showing the audience. Carole was sitting in the front row with Tina.

“See anyone you know, George?” she asked, freezing the frame and trying to not grin.

“Th-th-that’s y-you,” he stuttered. “A-a-and T-Tina.”

“Correct!” She hit the play button. The camera panned left until it pointed back at the stage, passing over band members and background vocalists before focusing on the lead singer.

George clutched the arms of his chair and stared.

“I’ve been a fan of yours for years, George,” she said softly. “You don’t stutter when you sing because there’s music in your soul. I hope to help you find it again.”

DAMAGE CONTROL

Model Jenn R. Turnham Photographer Lori Stead Copyright 2019 Wet Silver LLC

Damage Control

by Ree L. Diehl

Length 18, 365 words.  A BBW/billionaire workplace romance.

Single-title release scheduled for 2020. First appeared in the Stand Your Ground anti-bullying/antiviolence anthology.

 

Tagline: Wentworth’s new plus-size lingerie sales clerk thinks a boss with benefits could be just what she needs.

 

Curvy Isabella DeLorean knows what it’s like to be the butt of jokes but she has brains, talent, beauty, an irrepressible sense of humor, and a plus-size body that matches her big heart.  Tough as steel and built for comfort, this DeLorean would love nothing more than to take her new boss for a ride.

Nicholas Wentworth III is CEO of the Wentworth’s department store chain.  His newest sales clerk is so popular with customers, Bella wins Employee of the Month and all the perks that come with it—a sizeable bonus, a premium parking space, and dinner with CEO.  Bella’s hot Italian-American blood thinks that a boss with benefits might just be what she needs.  She’s already dealing with vicious coworkers, a shady manager, and office gossip.  Accepting the award from Nick puts an even bigger target on her back.  Someone’s aware of their mutual attraction.  Someone who’ll stop at nothing to keep her and Nick apart.  With Bella’s life in peril, can Nick find her stalker before it’s too late?

Damage Control is Ree L. Diehl’s first novella, her first BBW, and first romantic suspense. 

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Excerpt:

Bella put the credit card printout with the cash register receipt and handed them to Lola.

The bride-to-be tucked them in her billfold.  “I’ll give these to Vito when I get home.  Thanks for all your help, doll.  You’re the best.”

“Thank you, Lola.  I wish you and Vito every joy.”

Glancing over, Bella saw Maria carrying Justinian on her hip.  The way that he was gnawing on a finger, she wondered if a tooth was coming in.

She was so focused on her nephew that she didn’t see Ms. Cohen coming from the back with a spray bottle of perfume in her hand.  “There,” she said, misting away.  “Much better!”

For Ms. Cohen maybe, but not for Bella.  One whiff and she felt her throat start to close.  She stumbled to the chair just outside the lingerie display room, gasping for air.

“Someone get a doctor!” Maria yelled.  Justinian burst into tears, wailing like a banshee.  Lola called 911.  “Bella, can you hear me?  Do you have one of those shot things for allergies?”

Bella shook her head weakly.  She had an inhaler if she started to wheeze.  A runny nose and sinus headache were the norm.  She’d never had a reaction this bad, with a fat tongue and dangerously constricted airways.  Dear God, what if her throat swelled shut before help came?  Not being able to breathe was the most frightening thing she’d ever experienced.

She felt dizzy.  She couldn’t get enough air, and she was losing consciousness.  Her eyelids closed, too heavy to keep open any longer.

“Hang in there, sweetie.  Help is on the way.  Stay with me, Bella.  Stay with me.  Come on, sweetheart.  Stay with me.”

Strange, but Maria’s voice had changed to Mr. Wentworth’s.

Try as she might, she couldn’t force open her eyes.  Couldn’t see him and couldn’t stay with him, as much as she wanted to.  How ironic was it, to win a date with the man of her dreams and die before dinner?

“I agree.  It is ironic.”

Bella stopped breathing again, but this time it wasn’t a medical emergency.  She felt the sting of an IV in the back of her hand and heard the blip of monitors even before she opened her eyes and saw Nicholas Wentworth sitting by her hospital bed.

He looked exhausted.

She was pretty sure that she looked worse.

“Hi,” she croaked.  “What are you doing here?”

He conjured a tired smile.  “Checking on my Employee of the Month.  Your mother tells me that you’re a fighter.  She swears that you’ll be out of here in time for the presentation tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow?

Good lord.  She’d lost a day?  A day’s pay.  No, two days.  Yesterday and today and maybe tomorrow, depending on how soon they would let her go.

Bella burst into tears.  “I’m s-sorry,” she keened.  “It’s just—I can’t afford to miss work.”

“Workmen’s Comp,” he said, waving a dismissive hand.  “Everything’s covered.  Your pay.  Your stay.  This is a result of an incident while you were on the clock.  Trust me when I say that everything will be taken care of.  All you need to do is relax and recover.  Lingerie will be waiting for you when the doctor releases you.  Ms. Cohen, however, will not.”

“Wait.  What?”

Bracing his elbows on the arms of his chair, he clasped his hands and leaned toward her.  “After your review yesterday morning, I started checking, comparing department profits and sales commissions paid.  The figures showed a disturbing pattern.  When I called Ms. Cohen to discuss my findings, I was told that she was busy with a medical emergency.  Yours.”

He rubbed a hand across his face and smiled grimly.  “Miss Chin—Qua—found your phone on the counter, still recording.  She had me listen to it.  Ms. Cohen was ready to let your sales go through another register.  But what she did next was worse.  Ms. Cohen knew that you had fragrance allergies.  That’s why we put you in lingerie, in a part of the store farthest from the makeup and perfume counters.  Yet she deliberately sprayed perfume without your permission, without bothering to ask if you were allergic to that brand.  It was an unconscionable act, and I fired her.  The search is on for a new lingerie department manager.  HR recommends the one from our Charleston, South Carolina, location.  Ms. Jackson—Evalynne—has an excellent record but she’s not fond of hurricanes and is looking to relocate.”

“Same job, new boss.  I can handle it.”  Truthfully, she was relieved to have a job to come back to, especially if it meant that she could catch a glimpse of Nicholas Wentworth III from time to time.

He smiled softly.  “I’m certain you can.”

“I’m a DeLorean,” she quipped.  “Tough as steel and built for comfort.”

It was one of her standing jokes when someone pointed out her weight.  Bella groaned when she heard what had flown out of her mouth.  “Forget I said that.  Jesus, take me now.”

Mr. Wentworth chuckled.  “Sorry, he’ll have to wait until I’m done with you.  We have a presentation tomorrow night, and there’s still your Employee of the Month dinner with me.  Your mother is looking forward to the first, and I,” he said, “am looking forward to the second.”

She looked for the signs, but he wasn’t joking.

Holy schneiky.

She needed to make a major fashion statement.  In her mind, she saw a basic black mermaid wrap with an asymmetrical draped bodice, crossing to one side and fastening at her waist.

“Two weeks,” she said.  If they were going to do this, she wanted enough time to make the perfect dress.

“Good,” he said.  “Good.  You’ll be out of here and back to work.  Speaking of which, I’d better get going.  I have a conference call in an hour.  I’m glad to see that you’re doing better, Miss DeLorean.”

That sounded so formal when she was sitting here with her ass hanging out of a hospital gown.  “My family and friends call me Bella, Mr. Wentworth.”

Standing, he smoothed the creases from his suit pants and draped his matching jacket over his arm.  “And my family and friends call me Nick.  I’ll see you soon, Bella.  Get some rest.”

She didn’t want to rest.  She wanted to watch that fine specimen of manhood leave her hospital room and memorize how his bubble butt looked in motion.  She wanted to bite it.  Lick it.  She wanted to bend over the bed and let the CEO of Wentworth’s own her every orifice.

God, what she wouldn’t give to have her vibrator right now. 

DAMAGE CONTROL

Model Jenn R. Turnham Photographer Lori Stead Copyright 2019 Wet Silver LLC

Damage Control

by Ree L. Diehl

Length 18, 365 words.  A BBW/billionaire workplace romance (a contemporary novella with workplace bullying and body shaming) first appeared in Stand Your Ground antibullying anthology with Nia Farrell, Ree L. Diehl, Patient Lee, Jack Crosby, James Hartley, JA Lafrance, and Christine Monroe.

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Damage Control blurb:

Curvy Isabella DeLorean knows what it’s like to be the butt of jokes but she has brains, talent, beauty, an irrepressible sense of humor, and a plus-size body that matches her big heart.  Tough as steel and built for comfort, this DeLorean would love nothing more than to take her new boss for a ride.

Nicholas Wentworth III is CEO of the Wentworth’s department store chain.  His newest sales clerk is so popular with customers, Bella wins Employee of the Month and all the perks that come with it—a sizeable bonus, a premium parking space, and dinner with CEO.  Bella’s hot Italian-American blood thinks that a boss with benefits might just be what she needs.  She’s already dealing with vicious coworkers, a shady manager, and office gossip.  Accepting the award from Nick puts an even bigger target on her back.  Someone’s aware of their mutual attraction.  Someone who’ll stop at nothing to keep her and Nick apart.  With Bella’s life in peril, can Nick find her stalker before it’s too late?

Damage Control is Ree L. Diehl’s first novella, her first BBW, and first romantic mystery. It’s a sizzling addition to the Stand Your Ground anti-bullying anthology. 

 

DAMAGE CONTROL excerpt:

Bella put the credit card printout with the cash register receipt and handed them to Lola.

The bride-to-be tucked them in her billfold.  “I’ll give these to Vito when I get home.  Thanks for all your help, doll.  You’re the best.”

“Thank you, Lola.  I wish you and Vito every joy.”

Glancing over, Bella saw Maria carrying Justinian on her hip.  The way that he was gnawing on a finger, she wondered if a tooth was coming in.

She was so focused on her nephew that she didn’t see Ms. Cohen coming from the back with a spray bottle of perfume in her hand.  “There,” she said, misting away.  “Much better!”

For Ms. Cohen maybe, but not for Bella.  One whiff and she felt her throat start to close.  She stumbled to the chair just outside the lingerie display room, gasping for air.

“Someone get a doctor!” Maria yelled.  Justinian burst into tears, wailing like a banshee.  Lola called 911.  “Bella, can you hear me?  Do you have one of those shot things for allergies?”

Bella shook her head weakly.  She had an inhaler if she started to wheeze.  A runny nose and sinus headache were the norm.  She’d never had a reaction this bad, with a fat tongue and dangerously constricted airways.  Dear God, what if her throat swelled shut before help came?  Not being able to breathe was the most frightening thing she’d ever experienced.

She felt dizzy.  She couldn’t get enough air, and she was losing consciousness.  Her eyelids closed, too heavy to keep open any longer.

“Hang in there, sweetie.  Help is on the way.  Stay with me, Bella.  Stay with me.  Come on, sweetheart.  Stay with me.”

Strange, but Maria’s voice had changed to Mr. Wentworth’s.

Try as she might, she couldn’t force open her eyes.  Couldn’t see him and couldn’t stay with him, as much as she wanted to.  How ironic was it, to win a date with the man of her dreams and die before dinner?

“I agree.  It is ironic.”

Bella stopped breathing again, but this time it wasn’t a medical emergency.  She felt the sting of an IV in the back of her hand and heard the blip of monitors even before she opened her eyes and saw Nicholas Wentworth sitting by her hospital bed.

He looked exhausted.

She was pretty sure that she looked worse.

“Hi,” she croaked.  “What are you doing here?”

He conjured a tired smile.  “Checking on my Employee of the Month.  Your mother tells me that you’re a fighter.  She swears that you’ll be out of here in time for the presentation tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow?

Good lord.  She’d lost a day?  A day’s pay.  No, two days.  Yesterday and today and maybe tomorrow, depending on how soon they would let her go.

Bella burst into tears.  “I’m s-sorry,” she keened.  “It’s just—I can’t afford to miss work.”

“Workmen’s Comp,” he said, waving a dismissive hand.  “Everything’s covered.  Your pay.  Your stay.  This is a result of an incident while you were on the clock.  Trust me when I say that everything will be taken care of.  All you need to do is relax and recover.  Lingerie will be waiting for you when the doctor releases you.  Ms. Cohen, however, will not.”

“Wait.  What?”

Bracing his elbows on the arms of his chair, he clasped his hands and leaned toward her.  “After your review yesterday morning, I started checking, comparing department profits and sales commissions paid.  The figures showed a disturbing pattern.  When I called Ms. Cohen to discuss my findings, I was told that she was busy with a medical emergency.  Yours.”

He rubbed a hand across his face and smiled grimly.  “Miss Chin—Qua—found your phone on the counter, still recording.  She had me listen to it.  Ms. Cohen was ready to let your sales go through another register.  But what she did next was worse.  Ms. Cohen knew that you had fragrance allergies.  That’s why we put you in lingerie, in a part of the store farthest from the makeup and perfume counters.  Yet she deliberately sprayed perfume without your permission, without bothering to ask if you were allergic to that brand.  It was an unconscionable act, and I fired her.  The search is on for a new lingerie department manager.  HR recommends the one from our Charleston, South Carolina, location.  Ms. Jackson—Evalynne—has an excellent record but she’s not fond of hurricanes and is looking to relocate.”

“Same job, new boss.  I can handle it.”  Truthfully, she was relieved to have a job to come back to, especially if it meant that she could catch a glimpse of Nicholas Wentworth III from time to time.

He smiled softly.  “I’m certain you can.”

“I’m a DeLorean,” she quipped.  “Tough as steel and built for comfort.”

It was one of her standing jokes when someone pointed out her weight.  Bella groaned when she heard what had flown out of her mouth.  “Forget I said that.  Jesus, take me now.”

Mr. Wentworth chuckled.  “Sorry, he’ll have to wait until I’m done with you.  We have a presentation tomorrow night, and there’s still your Employee of the Month dinner with me.  Your mother is looking forward to the first, and I,” he said, “am looking forward to the second.”

She looked for the signs, but he wasn’t joking.

Holy schneiky.

She needed to make a major fashion statement.  In her mind, she saw a basic black mermaid wrap with an asymmetrical draped bodice, crossing to one side and fastening at her waist.

“Two weeks,” she said.  If they were going to do this, she wanted enough time to make the perfect dress.

“Good,” he said.  “Good.  You’ll be out of here and back to work.  Speaking of which, I’d better get going.  I have a conference call in an hour.  I’m glad to see that you’re doing better, Miss DeLorean.”

That sounded so formal when she was sitting here with her ass hanging out of a hospital gown.  “My family and friends call me Bella, Mr. Wentworth.”

Standing, he smoothed the creases from his suit pants and draped his matching jacket over his arm.  “And my family and friends call me Nick.  I’ll see you soon, Bella.  Get some rest.”

She didn’t want to rest.  She wanted to watch that fine specimen of manhood leave her hospital room and memorize how his bubble butt looked in motion.  She wanted to bite it.  Lick it.  She wanted to bend over the bed and let the CEO of Wentworth’s own her every orifice.

God, what she wouldn’t give to have her vibrator right now.