|Beth and her favorite band, Rascal Flatts
|Robin and her best bud, Jen.
|V V Tour's Roadies
More about Vixen Virgins, the excerpts
The Outlaw's Virgin by Beth Williamson
Maggie was angry the first hour he was gone. The second hour, she was furious. By the third hour, she was livid. She was also thirsty and she had to go to the privy, but she absolutely refused to give him the satisfaction of emptying a chamber pot she was forced to use. If she drank the water, she would have an even bigger problem as her bladder expanded any further.
And so she sat on the bed with her arms and her legs crossed. Cursing Brit. He’d not only stripped her, but he’d also taken a chunk out of her pride. Not many people were able to best Maggie, especially so roundly. It was humiliating – an emotion Maggie did not care to roll around in.
By the time Brit came back to the cabin, it was almost completely dark. And the buffoon hadn’t lit a lamp. So she was sitting in the dark with a near to bursting bladder, waiting on an outlaw in her underclothes. She had to bite back the laugh that threatened to jump out of her mouth.
She didn’t answer. Instead she crept up behind him and waited until he lit the lamp, then slapped him as hard as she could. The sound reverberated through the cabin like a rifle report. She couldn’t tell who was more surprised. Never had she stooped so low as to strike someone. And here she was, for the second time in one day, like a common tart slapping an armed man that had committed any number of crimes already that day, including stripping her of her clothing forcibly.
His jaw tightened and she could see the outline of her handprint on his cheek. She could still feel the prick of his whiskers on her fingers and her palm tingled from the force of the slap.
"I warned you already, countess. Don’t hit me."
He grabbed her hands and walked her back toward the bed, the rope dragging on the floor between them. He pushed her back until she fell on the bed. The force of the push was enough to make her bounce, and she yelped in pain as her bladder protested loudly.
"What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?"
Brit actually sounded concerned. She wasn’t about to fall for it.
"Yes you did! I have been sitting here for hours waiting to relieve myself."
He put his hands on his hips and stared down at her with one eyebrow raised. "What the hell are you talking about? There’s a pot right there on the floor."
She scoffed. "I do not use such primitive means."
"Then you deserve whatever you got. Let me tell you something, darlin’, out here you take what you can get and are grateful for it. We can’t all be rich ladies with servants waiting to wipe our asses and fix our breakfast. The real world isn’t about the latest fashion or which hat to wear."
He turned on his heel and slammed the door on his way out.
And Maggie was still tied to the bed. With a full bladder. She eyed the chamber pot and sighed. Obviously she met a man that was more stubborn than she was.
The Sheriff's Vixen by Robin Danner
Millie had seen some handsome men in her time, but Ben Spalding was the only one to turn her knees to jelly. His soulful blue eyes and golden curls brought to mind a painting of Adonis that her mother had painted when Millie was just a girl. He was tall, much taller than her, and his arms gave the impression that he could pick her up right off her feet. For the first time in her life, Millie’s innate sense of flirtation went right out the window. She, who had never been at a loss for words, looked at him and nearly tripped over her tongue. Millie walked away with her pulse fluttering in her chest. He was exactly the sort of man she would have picked to pursue had her father not already promised her to another.
She stepped into the kitchen and glanced at Bessie, who was bent over an ancient stove. "What are you preparing?"
Bessie put a hand against her back and straightened slowly. "Ham and biscuits."
Millie’s stomach rumbled. "Sounds delicious." Of course right now, the hind end of a northbound horse would sound tempting. She joined Bessie at the stove and sniffed appreciatively. "Do you need any help?"
Bessie shooed her out of the way. "No, I’ve got it." She glanced at her and seemed to notice Millie for the first time. "Girl, where are your clothes?"
Millie shrugged. "I only have the one dress and it’s hanging out to dry."
"What was in that bag you were lugging behind you then?"
Millie grinned sheepishly. "Books and my sister’s art supplies."
"Books? Art supplies?" Bessie echoed. "Girl, you ain’t got no sense. No sense a’tall."
"We left in a hurry," Millie explained. "We only had time to pack the essentials."
"I call clothing an essential," Bessie flipped the ham in the pan and it make a sizzling sound. "You can’t eat supper in your unmentionables. I believe the sheriff is home. Go ask him if you can borrow a shirt and a pair of pants."
Asking a favor of the handsome sheriff was the last thing Millie wanted to do. "May I just borrow one of your dresses instead?"
Bessie planted her hands on her slim hips and cocked her head to one side. "You’d pop straight out of one of my dresses. I’m not nearly as busty."
Millie glanced down at herself ruefully. Bessie did have a point. Although she was not a large woman, Millie’s curves were on the generous side while Bessie was as straight as a board.
"Bessie, do you know you have a crazy…?"
Millie, who’d turned at the sound of Ben’s voice, enjoyed witnessing the discomfiture on his face when he realized she was still in the kitchen. His mouth snapped closed and he glared at her.
"Yes, she does," Millie completed for him.
His tan cheeks flushed with color. Embarrassment or anger, she wasn’t sure which. Either way, she enjoyed the look on his face as he stomped his way across the kitchen. He was just about to disappear through the door when Bessie called his name.
"Sheriff! How’s about lending her a pair of pants and a shirt?"
He paused and pivoted to face her. His light gaze raked over her body, leaving Millie feeling all hot and bothered. "Come along then."
"Really, there’s no need…" Millie began.
Bessie bent down to check on her biscuits. "Of course there is. Go on up with the sheriff and get yourself decent."
There was no use arguing with the woman, so Millie did as she was told. Ben held the door open for her as she passed through with her nose in the air.
"You could say thank you," he pointed out.
She sniffed and turned her nose up even higher. "I make it a point to only thank people who have been kind to me."