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Millennium Falls

By: Robin Smith
Published By: Red Hot Romance Publishing
Copyright: � 2013 by Red Hot Romance and Robin Smith
14 Chapters / 71,500 Words
Heat Level:
3.1 Out Of 5 (3.1 on 7)   |  Write a review

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Elizabeth "Zi" Bartlett is returning home from a disastrous blind date that she had set up through an alternate lifestyle website in order to experience spankings firsthand instead of in her long-imagined fantasies. Although she's in dire financial straits, she wants this type of relationship so badly that the six hour round trip in her gas-guzzling van seemed worth the risk.

The night is dark and foggy, and she nearly runs down a young man named Thomas, who is standing in the road. She takes him home and the boy's father, Archer Moorecott, offers her a job as Thomas's private tutor, to everyone's surprise, including Archer. Although he's attracted to her, he's determined to maintain his distance because (suspenseful drum roll here) he's a vampire! So is Thomas, but he's not as angst-ridden and obnoxious about it.

Zi's innate good nature, sweet spirit, and entrancing spankability gradually win Archer over. She moves into the Millennium Falls mansion, much to the chagrin of her creepy next-door neighbor, Sherman, who makes his displeasure known in an equally creepy way.

This paranormal spanking romance is full of witty dialogue, drama, hot sensual scenes, and of course, spankings! If it bothers you to read about strong alpha men dishing out spankings to sassy, well-deserving ladies, then please don't buy this book.

It was a long drive back from Portland and Zi drove it in silence after the disaster of yet another blind date. The radio had proved too peppy; she�d switched it off to facilitate her sulk and now had nothing to listen to except the growl of the old van�s engine and the drumming of the October rain. She was tired, not so much from driving, but deep down in her soul where it really counted. It was late and it was dark and Zi had lost the last shred of hope.

Not that there�d been a whole lot of hope to begin with. That was her own fault and she knew it, but looking back over her life, she still couldn�t see where she could have changed things, even if she went back to the very beginning. She�d been a �little miracle�, born when her mother was creeping up on fifty and her father already retired from the service that had been his home for decades. Growing up with them on their remote scratch of farmland, she remembered only happy days, but even then, it hadn�t been a typical parent-child relationship and the transition to her teens had really been one of caretaker. Her mother passed away when Zi was still in high school and, as if he figured he�d held on long enough, her father�s health had begun its slow decline. They took care of each other and they were still happy, but college was out of the question. Friends? Her father�s war buddies and her mother�s old sewing circle were Zi�s friends; she had nothing in common with the young crowd that occasionally overlapped her space in school. Still, it was a good life, but cancer had finally ended it and now Zi was alone.

There was a little money. Not much after the bills were taken care of, but a little. She sold the house and moved to the nearest place big enough to be called a town, where she took an apartment with one of her father�s army-guy grandkids, and as nice as Rosalie was, Zi always knew she was only there as a favor to the memory of her Daddy. She got a job dipping fries and it was tough, but she got by. Sort of.

Then the recession that this country insisted it wasn�t in came knocking on her door. She lost her job and really, the only thing worse than having to beg for a job at Burger Barn, was begging and losing it anyway. With that and nothing else on her r�sum�, her prospects in this podunk town were slim. Rosalie, whose parents were alive and well and perfectly willing to fund her Grand Dream as a concert cellist from Bayberry, Oregon, had begun (nicely) hinting that the rent was going to be due whether or not Zi was working. There was a very good chance she was going to be living out of her car at the end of the month and thank God, really, that she�d sold the truck instead of the van.

After exhausting her limited mundane options, Zi had given in to more desperate measures: She�d gone to, the last refuge for many an anonymous scoundrel, and tried to hire herself out as a live-in submissive. It seemed like such a sensible thing to try, at the time.

Why not? Zi�s childhood, golden haze notwithstanding, had left her with a deeply-rooted yearning for structure. Even her clumsy teenage fantasies had included some innocent form of discipline: She would get lost or end up dangling from a cliff somehow, then �he� would save her, scold her, sometimes (o scary, wonderful times) spank her, and then they�d kiss�

Of course, in an area where everyone knew everyone, introducing real spankings during a clumsy teenage make-out session was entirely out of the question, but in a new place�well, all sorts of things became possible. Besides, the people on had to know about being discreet, right?


Zi groaned and switched on the radio, catching the middle of a commercial about shoes. Some lady was going into double chocolate orgasms over a pair of pink leather pumps with faux diamonds over the straps. Come on in. Only sixty bucks. Nothing said sexy like a new pair of shoes. Zi switched it off again. Her only pair of shoes in the world were the clunky sneakers on her feet and they were three years old. She never really thought about shoes. What did she know about being sexy?

Her reflection in the rearview mirror, a dark twin tinged green by the light from the dashboard, caught her eye for a moment. She sighed unhappily at herself, then stared back out at the road. She should be pretty. Her folks had told her often enough that she was, but that was folks for you. Any fool with a television set knew the difference between what was pretty and what wasn�t. The only thing that bothered her was the nagging idea that she could be pretty if she just knew how, but the ancient voodoo secrets that mothers passed on to daughters were lost to her. She�d grown up doing tough things, dirty things; to her, get prettied up meant that you took a shower and ran a brush through your hair two or three times. If you were going to town, you changed your shirt to one without chaff or bird-dirt on it. Pink leather pumps? Where were you supposed to wear those?

�On dates,� Zi grumbled, and that was probably part of her problem with these last ten. She didn�t know how to dress the part. Rosalie had been absolutely beside herself, which was more emotion than she�d shown towards Zi for pretty much their entire co-existence. She�d been flinging her own clothes at Zi towards the end, since Zi refused to throw away her dwindling funds on new togs. �Blind date is just an expression!� she�d kept howling. �You can�t count on him to really be blind! For God�s sake, take off your bra!�

Which, of course, Zi had not done. Because the last thing she wanted to do was to doll herself up and give these men the wrong impression.

Not that giving them the clunky sneaker-feet impression had gone any better for her.

The ad she�d placed at said simply, �Inexperienced submissive ready to take the plunge. Seeking instruction and gentle (at first) discipline in a live-in situation. No sex.�

No sex. How hard was that to grasp? No sex. Two words, five letters, no confusion. No sex. Why did fifty men (and six women) immediately inundate her with authoritative, bloodcurdlingly sexual descriptions of her submissive duties, and why did they all include the word �break�? Zi didn�t think she needed to be broken. She wanted to be herself, just a self that included spankings and didn�t include sleeping in her van. Sure, the words �live-in� did carry their own implications and she wasn�t completely adverse to the idea of sex in that relationship (was, if the truth be told, a wee bit turned on by the idea), but was it so wrong to think that there should be a pretense of romance first?

But okay, she�d managed to weed out ten men who seemed to be able to read, and she�d set up ten (horrible) blind dates. Tonight�s was the last, but it was damn near a perfect copy of the first, the second, and every other one: After a series of painfully-shy emails and private chatrooms, she�d set up the meeting at a nice, neutral restaurant in his hometown (tonight�s had been in Portland, a three-hour drive for her and her gas-guzzling van). He seemed like a nice guy�normal-looking, sweet smile�he blushed when he asked if he could pay for dinner�and so she�d gone with him when he invited her back to his place to see where her room would be. And not three steps inside his door, his clothes were off and he was pointing at a sawhorse with straps, saying, �All holes will be accessible at all times and all holes belong to me.�

All holes. Holes. That was what she was for the price of a dinner at Denny�s. Three holes on a sawhorse. It was too depressing to even cry over.

So back she drove in silence, from the bright lights and the big city back to the nothing little town, with her nice �Told you so� roommate to deal with tonight and the creepy, quasi-psycho next-door neighbor guy sure to loom over her tomorrow, and nothing, nothing at all, to show for it except a bellyful of cheap seafood alfredo and disappointment. All she wanted was a nice guy who would give her a spanking once in a while�and free room and board until the burger joints started hiring again. That was all. Just a little discipline and a little respect, a little security and a little kid.

Little kid.

There was a little kid in the middle of the road!

Zi�s clunky sneaker slammed down on the brake. Zi�s gas-guzzling old van screamed as she calmly controlled the fish-tailing spin that kept trying to happen on the rain-slick road. Trapped in the beam of her headlights, the kid flinched back, raising one arm (less as a panicked shield than as protection against the light, she noticed that even then), as she managed a full and complete stop at the end of four black stripes of steaming rubber. Zi crashed forward against the steering wheel and back against the seat, letting out a single coarse cough instead of a scream. After a moment, the kid timidly lowered his hand and touched the hood of her van. That was how close it came.

Adrenaline kicked in, revving up her heart and popping sweat out in chills all over her body. There was a little kid in the middle of the road. She was reasonably certain she hadn�t wet herself, but everything below the beltline was fairly numb at the moment. There was a kid in the road, but she hadn�t hit him. He was looking at her. Zi�s teeth chattered a few times and then gently stopped again. The kid in the road was looking at her like he thought she was going to do something. Zi�s stomach flipped over one more time and finally lay quiet. She supposed someone really ought to do something.

Zi turned the engine off, but left the running lights on. She hadn�t seen a car coming or going for more than an hour, but it was just her luck that one should happen along now and plow into her in the dark. She unbuckled her seat belt with shaking hands and got out.

The kid backed up, eying her warily but without fear. She showed the kid her empty hands. They were still trembling. She said, �Are you okay?�

The kid thought about it and nodded.

It was a boy. She thought it was a boy anyway. It was hard to tell with hairstyles today. He was wearing black slacks and shiny black shoes and a dark blue shirt buttoned down to the wrists and up to the neck. If he�d been wearing a tie, he�d have been at home in church. Or a funeral. He looked to be about eight years old, maybe a tall seven or a very small ten, sandy blonde, with a solemn face and dark, intense eyes. She saw all this in the space of a second, but kept staring at him anyway. It was hard to look away. The mere reality of the kid could not seem to be separated from the reality that she�d nearly hit him, that she surely would have if she�d been fiddling with the radio, or if she�d been yawning, or sneezing�or crying, which was far more likely.

In that instant, Zi could actually see herself in the flickering red/blue lights of a police car, sobbing hysterically as she tried to explain to some block-faced cop that she hadn�t seen him, couldn�t stop, that he�d just come out of nowhere. Her stomach see-sawed, but didn�t turn over. She supposed she was getting a grip on herself. Nowhere, that was the thing to focus on. Where had he come from?

Zi tore her gaze away from the kid to look around, but saw the same dark nothing she�d been driving through all night. This was backwoods Oregon, nothing but trees in every direction. She saw one or two lights in the distance, but that was all. It seemed very important to her somehow that she handle this right and part of handling it meant making sure the kid was not just removed from danger but put down again where he belonged.

�Where are your parents?� Zi asked, her heart still banging away at her ribs hard enough to shake her voice. �Are they hurt? Are you in trouble?�

�No.� The kid did some more hard thinking. At last, he said, �I live here.� His voice was like the rest of him�small, intense, and serious.

Zi stared at the dark and the nothing. �Where?�

�Close.� The boy shrugged. �Sort of close.�

She looked at him, troubled. He looked back at her, complacent. Hesitantly, she said, �Are you�running away?�

For the third time, the boy gave that obvious consideration. Then he sighed, dropping those eerie eyes. He nodded. �I�m sorry to have frightened you. I�ll go home now.�

Zi put out her hands, then drew back. �Kid, I can�t leave you alone out here. I just can�t. It�s cold. It�s past ten and�the next guy might not have my brakes. Now you should never, ever go for rides with strangers, but I need you to get in the van with me, okay? I need to take you home.�

The boy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was a curiously adult gesture, one staggeringly out-of-place on his small body, but he did it without artifice.

�Please, kid,� Zi begged. �Strangers can be bad, but I swear I�m not. I swear. I just need to make sure you get home okay.� She hunted for something more to say, something convincing and safe. �I�ll give you my driver�s license,� she blurted, and immediately winced. Like he was a car salesman or something.

He looked at her through the hand still pinching at his nose. That look of adultness came over him again, aging him immensely. He looked at her like she was the child, and a particularly trying one at that. Then he dropped his arm and was a boy again, just a boy on a dark, rainy road. �All right,� he said. �You can take me home.�

He went over and climbed up into the van, shaking his head a little as he went.
Hillary on 04/05/2015 09:25pm
Marens books are my favorite, and this paranormal spanky thriller does not dissapoint. A paranirmal Romeo and Juliet with Mr. Morecot and Zi is whatyou are getting here. This story will not disapoint. Set in modern day.
Hillary on 04/05/2015 09:25pm
Marens books are my favorite, and this paranormal spanky thriller does not dissapoint. A paranirmal Romeo and Juliet with Mr. Morecot and Zi is whatyou are getting here. This story will not disapoint. Set in modern day.
drb on 12/08/2013 09:32am
I enjoyed reading this story. It has a slight twist that is different and quite enjoyable. There were a few places in the book that were a bit flat -- mostly when Archer was reflecting. Some of the information the reader needed but I found these reflection periods a bit to drug out. However, once I would get through these sections the story would quickly grab my attention again.
Arleen on 11/11/2013 04:22am
I gave this story a 3 star rating. I enjoyed the way the author makes her characters easy to relate to. But I felt that the story had a very boring beginning and it took me a long time to get into it. When I find myself skim reading to get to the interesting parts I feel the story is lacking.
JAS on 11/09/2013 12:55pm
This gets 2 out of 5 instead of 1 becuase it is an actual story, as opposed to fluff but it was VERY disapointing. It had a; great premise, a vampire who is not like any typical vampire, after all he can use sumblock and be up and out during the day, falls in love with his sons tutor, but then it was just rushed in the end, and fell flat, Saddest part, the best character is the little boy Thomas, adult mind stuck in little boy's body, he is the character that kept this story going- don't waste your money
KArc on 11/07/2013 09:56pm
This story took a long time to get off the ground. In fact, I was 80 pages in before it caught my interest. I really liked Thomas but found it extremely sad that he was stuck in the body of a very slow aging ten year old. The rest of the characters didn't do much for me.
SL on 10/29/2013 08:03am
The characters were a little stiff....but being a vampire for so many years, I guess that can cause you a little stiffness. It is a story of a woman that wants to be spanked and has bad experiences in the past. She takes a job as a tutor to a strange pair of men. One is a boy that she almost hit while driving back from a bad experience. Ms. Smith always looks at the characters with what it would be like. It must have been tough to be so old and see the world change. To constantly move to avoid detection. Anyway it is a love story as well as a story of trust. I like it a lot. It had spanking, but no graphic sex scenes. I did laugh and cry and felt for the characters. It was a longer read so you could get to know the characters. It is worth a look.

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