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  Now here's a sneak peek at Kidnapped for Christmas, a re-release, available December 1, 2018 just in time for the upcoming holiday season.

  Kidnapped for Christmas

  Available December 1, 2018

  Plus-sized and practical, Jillian Marks is the responsible one in her family. She got all the common sense and her little sister Sabrina got all the skinny genes. When Sabrina plans a custom kinky kidnapping as a Christmas present for herself, Jillian tries to talk her out of it but her ditzy sister won’t listen.

  Muscular and intense, Kyle Stephens is a Dom who is looking for a permanent sub—a curvy woman who can submit in the bedroom but still think for herself. He takes Sabrina’s file but mistakenly ’naps the wrong sister, grabbing Jillian instead of Sabrina.

  Now Jillian is bound and gagged in a dungeon, learning to submit to the man of her dreams who has her Kidnapped for Christmas.

  One

  “Let me get this straight—you’re paying someone to kidnap you?” Jillian Marks looked up from her steaming cappuccino, certain that her sister had finally gone completely crazy.

  “That’s right.” Sabrina gave her a smug look and flipped her long dark hair over one bony shoulder. She was the younger sister, but only by thirteen months and thirteen days. Jillian had often thought the double bad luck number had followed her from the moment of her sister’s birth. Because Sabrina was a mess.

  At age four, she’d decided it would be fun to swim in the baptismal pool at church. At age twelve she’d picked a fight with the biggest bully at Our Lady of the Sacred Heart, starting a feud that lasted for years. But her bad luck and bad judgment didn’t end when they were children—Sabrina was still getting into trouble years later. Like the time she’d had the idea to hide in the men’s locker room and watch the football team au naturel for a tell-all exposé for their college newspaper about how men really act when there are no women around. It just never ended. Sabrina was always in the thick of things. And Jillian was always the one who had to clean up after her.

  Jillian was the one who pulled her sister out of the pool before she drowned. Jillian was the one who defended Sabrina from bullies at school. And Jillian was the one who had talked the dean out of suspending her sister when she was discovered taking notes in the locker room. In fact, Jillian was the one who mopped up every single mess Sabrina made. So it was natural for her to be apprehensive about her little sister’s latest harebrained scheme.

  “Who did you pay? Do you even know what you’re getting into?” Jillian pushed her own sheaf of long dark hair out of her face and took another sip of her low-fat cappuccino. It was perfect, with a thick head of foam you could float a dime on. Sabrina was sipping an eggnog Frappuccino with double whipped cream. It was one of those seasonal Starbucks flavors that was only out for a few months. Since it was only three weeks until Christmas, Sabrina was drinking as much eggnog Frappuccino as she could, because she wouldn’t be able to get it again until next Yuletide.

  The two sisters were so close in age and so closely resembled each other that they were often mistaken for twins even though Jillian thought they looked nothing alike. True, they both had long dark hair and dark eyes but Sabrina was slender while Jillian was…not. How Sabrina fit her bony ass into her size-three jeans while living on a diet of high-fat Frappuccinos and junk food was more than Jillian could figure. She herself lived on rabbit food and Slim–Fast and still wore an eighteen. Her little sister must have gotten all the skinny genes in the family while Jillian got all the common sense. Sometimes Jillian wished they could trade—that was until Sabrina got herself into another mess. Then she thought that she’d rather be plus-sized and levelheaded than model thin and scatterbrained like her sister.

  “Well?” she asked impatiently since Sabrina seemed more interested in drawing patterns in the whipped cream with her straw than answering questions.

  “Sure, I know what I’m getting into. The actual ‘nap is done by a company called We Kidnap U. I read about them in Rolling Stone. They started in Houston of all places and then branched out to Atlanta, Chicago and New York. And now they’ve opened an office in Tampa.” She grinned, her eyes flashing with excitement. “I saw an article in The Tribune and I just had to do it. Getting ‘napped is the it thing right now.”

  Jillian put down her steaming cappuccino and rubbed her temples where a tension headache was beginning to build. “You’re talking like it’s some kind of fashion statement that you just have to get in on. I mean, ‘napped for Pete’s sake? Do I have to remind you of the time you had to dye your hair blue and it came out in streaks? Or the time when you had to get a tattoo of your boyfriend’s name on your ass and broke up with him a week later and had to have it removed? Or how about when you just had to get your tongue pierced and you had an allergic reaction to the metal? Your tongue swelled up so big it would hardly fit in your mouth.”

  “That tongue thing was ages ago.” Sabrina dismissed her big sister’s concern with a casual wave.

  “Try three months ago,” Jillian snapped. She could have screamed with frustration. “I was the one who drove you to the ER and held your hand while you got unpierced. And I was the one who got you an emergency appointment with my hairdresser to fix your hair. And I went with you to every single removal session to have Lorenzo’s name burned off your butt with a laser too. Do you begin to see a pattern developing here, Breeny?”

  “Whatever. Planning your own kidnapping is so exciting. I just couldn’t pass it up.”

  “Wait a minute.” Jillian held out a hand, palm up. “You actually plan it?”

  “Uh-huh. They have this form you fill out that tells them all the things you’re into. You tell them exactly what you want and they do it.” Sabrina shrugged. “Simple as that.”

  “No, not simple at all.” Jillian narrowed her eyes and tapped the glass-topped table they were sitting at for emphasis. “For starters, what kind of things are we talking about?”

  Sabrina pouted. “I know what you’re thinking, but it doesn’t have to be sexual— unless you want it to be, that is. There’s no actual intercourse allowed because that wouldn’t be legal. Mostly they just, you know, tie you up and blindfold you and…you know, whatever else you ask for.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jillian nodded grimly. “Aside from what you asked for, which is obviously on the kinky side since you won’t talk about it, how do you know this is safe? I mean, you’re putting your life in the hands of some stranger you’ve never seen before.”

  “But that’s part of the fun—the danger and uncertainty.” Sabrina’s dark eyes flashed as she leaned forward eagerly. “I mean, just think of it—you’re walking along down the street at any hour of the day or night—you never know when it’s going to happen—and suddenly you’re grabbed by this huge, menacing man, blindfolded, handcuffed and shoved into a van. Then they take you back to their lair and do all kinds of things to you—but only the things you specified on the form,” she added hastily. “What could go wrong?”

  Jillian massaged her temples some more. “So many things can go wrong I can’t even name them all. For starters, once they have you tied up and helpless how do you know they won’t go too far?”

  “Duh—because then you wouldn’t pay them the other half of your deposit.” Sabrina rolled her eyes as though it was the stupidest question she’d ever heard. “Besides, they’re licensed and bonded.” She giggled. “It’s so cute how they put it in their brochure—‘We’re bonded to do bondage’.”

  “What government agency would even license a place like that? And what kind of license would they get?” Jillian demanded. “A license to tie people up and do lewd and lascivious things to their bodies?”

  Sabrina looked sulky. “I don’t know any of that. But there’s a predetermined safe word too. If things get too intense you can just shout it out and they’ll stop—that’s guaranteed in the contract you sign.” She folded her arms over her chest. “And before you ask, no, I won’t tell you mine. Or the things I ordered for