Ready for her Close-up

(8 customer reviews)

Over a man’s knee being spanked for the first time, Clara is shocked into realisations of all kinds. Beneath the polished veneer of her powerful status at work, could there be a naughty little girl who badly needs someone like Frank?

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Sample Chapter

Clara Lorimer is a high-powered TV executive on the cusp of winning a major contract. Privately, she is lonely and stressed by the demands of the job. When Frank Cochrane walks into the studio, Clara wonders if he might be a welcome distraction.

An international stills photographer, Irishman Cochrane has been round the block more than once. He can see that Clara needs far more than a tawdry one-night stand, and spots her vulnerability.

Devastated when the rug is pulled from under her feet by a greedy co-worker, Clara turns to Frank for comfort. He is ready to give it, but wants more than a fling. When Clara loses her temper and accuses him of playing games, he decides she needs taught a lesson. Over a man’s knee for the first time in her life, she is shocked into realisations of all kinds. Beneath the polished veneer of her powerful status at work, could there be a naughty little girl who badly needs someone like Frank? Not just for a one night stand, but to care for her and take her in hand? A weekend in Paris might help Clara find out.

Publisher’s note: “Ready for Her Close Up” contains is a modern romance containing domestic discipline and spanking themes. If such themes offend you, please do not buy this book.

Sample Chapter

CHAPTER ONE

Central London

Monday 09:45 am

?Good luck with the filming, Clara! Bet you’ll be up for another award this year!?

The fresh-faced young production assistant smiled at Clara Lorimer as he darted across the street. Before she could gather her thoughts to reply, the wiry youth was well out her sight, expertly dodging the London traffic. Clara struggled to recall his name as she clambered out of the black cab, juggling her laptop case and bags. The guy was no doubt on his twelfth coffee run of the morning, Clara thought. She loathed it when younger colleagues in the industry spoke to people at her level in that casual way.

It wasn’t shaping up to be a vintage start to the day. Checking her delicate designer watch, Clara saw that it was almost ten. She swore inwardly. It was all or nothing this week, and she had to be on top form. Why had she allowed herself a longer lie than she should have, especially when there was no one to share her bed? She could barely remember the last time there had been.

She entered the St James Building to find the tranquil, air-conditioned atmosphere a welcome haven after the grim struggle of two lurching, stalling taxis from her Holborn flat.

?Could I offer you some assistance, Madam?? The concierge called to her as Clara made her way precariously across the marble floor to the lifts. She was carrying at least one too many bags, the man thought. And those heels were a real hazard. Clara knew as much. They had cost her enough for their height and exquisite shape.

Preoccupied, the elegant TV executive didn?t stop in her carefully picked-out tracks. She glanced over her shoulder and half smiled a sincere ?no thanks? to the cheerful, middle-aged man by the reception desk.

Damn it, Clara thought. She hadn?t checked in to see whether the talent had arrived. But what the hell. Time was getting on and it was her project, and her budget. They were on the very last week of filming. This series had to be absolutely perfect. If it won a re-commission, she could at last reap the benefits of her hard-fought slog to the top. Clara smiled as she imagined her reward. Leaving her production company in the capable hands of others, for a year long sabbatical. Away from the all stress and the responsibility.

Five days and counting to the weekend, Clara thought. Everything on the new show had gone well so far. This was her first all-day visit to the set as executive producer, and she knew there was bound to be a sense of nervousness across the production team. But spirits would also be high, as they all looked forward to a generous wrap party and the launch of another winning number for her company.

It wasn?t the kind of TV programme that met with Clara?s own tastes. It was pretty flimsy, workaday stuff, a glossy, lightweight lifestyle series for the 25 to 50 demographic. It was scheduled for lunchtime broadcast, and presented by two of the most sought-after young faces in the business. It required a fast turnaround, with her production team expected to deliver twenty-four half-hour programmes as a package. Tough going. But it would be well worth it.

The concierge kept a discreet eye on her as Clara teetered to the lift, the two upmarket boutique bags serving as makeshift briefcases. They swung awkwardly to one side, as her battered laptop case weighed her down on the other. Although she frequently needed help, Clara Lorimer rarely asked for it. Control was everything to her. And anyway, she couldn?t face small talk at this time on a Monday morning. Thank God for loyal, efficient staff. She knew they would have everything running like clockwork.

She checked her reflection in the wall-to-ceiling mirror. Perfect fit, rose pink Harris Tweed suit, hair not so perfect, but still not too bad for a windy Monday morning without her usual professional blow-dry. She?d decided she wouldn?t beat herself up too much about a little rare lateness. Pausing at the lift door, she felt the need for a coffee and a prolonged five minutes of what felt like freedom. Putting the laptop case and bags on the floor decidedly, Clara turned to catch the concierge?s eye.

?Sir? Morning again. Actually, could I ask you to look after these a minute or two? I?m just going to pop to the cafeteria.?

The kind, attentive man left his post and was sprinting over to collect Clara?s belongings before she even completed the request.

?Take your time, Madam. They?ll be perfectly safe with me behind reception.?

He smiled contentedly. She remarked to herself how wonderful it was to take a pride in your job, no matter what it was. Despite the hard-bitten exterior she gave to the money men and other obnoxious industry types she was forced to deal with day to day, Clara Lorimer had time for everyone. She smiled back at the fatherly concierge, who was already making her day a little better.

Fetching her phone from the side pocket of her bag, she called Jessica.

?Hello…?? her young co-ordinator?s voice was soft but held an undertone of urgency.

?Morning, my love. How are you??

?Hi there. Not bad!? the girl?s voice warmed up, and there was a hint of relief.

?I know, I know. I?m running late. Sorry about that. I had an extra hour in bed. I really needed it. I’m literally on my way.?

Young Jessica had no worries whatsoever. Everyone knew Clara was always on the ball.

?No problem. It?s all going OK. There was a bit of hassle with the lighting delivery and we?re still waiting on wardrobe. As usual. The two of them are in make-up. You should take your time, Clara. You?ve earned a later start, goodness knows.? Jessica?s voice was drowned out by the sound of metal clanking and male voices behind her. The lighting guys doing their stuff. Great, thought Clara. Business as usual.

?You want a coffee? And Rody?? Clara asked, now upbeat. ?I can just about manage to carry three.?

?Are you sure? Or do you want me to come down??

?No, you?re fine, Jess. I?ll just be another ten minutes or so before I get my act together. Latt?, and a black Americano??

?Thanks Clara. You?re a lifesaver. See you up here. Oh, and that stills photographer guy arrived really early by the way. Didn’t catch his name. The agency said he was a bit new to doing TV work.”

?Fantastic…? muttered Clara, raising her eyebrow. ?We?ll give him an hour. If he?s not coming up with the goods, it’s a quick no-thank- you. No hangers-on this week, Jess. We need the very best.?

Ten minutes later, her hair and make-up perfect, Clara was on her way to the third floor with the coffees. But when the lift came to a shuddering halt as she was looking at her watch, the cardboard tray wobbled defiantly before toppling out of her hand. The shower of sticky liquid hitting the lift floor splashed on the hem of her skirt, and made direct impact with her right shoe. Clara dropped her laptop case to the floor, swore, and stamped her foot like a child.

Hold it together you idiot, she thought. The last thing she needed was for the team to see her in this condition. The door slid open. As she bent to re-arrange the belongings and find a tissue, Clara caught a glimpse of a man in a leather jacket walking past the lift toward the studio floor. Standing, she began to gather her baggage hastily.

?You OK? Looks like a bit of a car crash you?ve got going on in there?? The guy had done a U-turn, seeing her predicament.

Clara looked up, still scrambling to tidy up the mess.

?It?s fine, thanks,? she blurted out too quickly. ?Bloody lift crashed to a halt before I could save that latt?.?

The man smiled, pausing now and giving Clara the chance to take him in. She had never seen him before. This was no set runner or extra. He was way too old for a start. But more than that, he was way too sexy.

?I don?t think we?ve met. They said you were running late. Frank Cochrane.? He bent to pick up the laptop, throwing the strap over his shoulder as he scooped up the other two weighty bags with the same hand.

?It?s OK, really you don?t need to. I can get that ?? Clara tried to take her bags from him, but he had already started walking down the corridor toward the set. She was dumbstruck as he turned and spoke to her over his shoulder, still walking. Who the hell was he to point out she was ‘running late’?

?It?s going OK in there,” the mysterious Frank Cochrane continued, “but I reckon they need you. I?m getting fantastic shots, though. I?ll tell Jessica you?re here, and get more coffees sent up. You?d better go and clean your skirt.?

His lilting accent ? southern Irish – held her silent for another moment, unsure of how to respond. She assumed this was the photographer the agency sent. But who the bloody hell did he think he was, telling her that her own job was ?going OK?? Her jobs always went brilliantly. And how come he was on first-name terms with all her staff already? From Jessica’s description, this couldn?t be the same guy the agency had meant to send round. Unless of course he was some kind of mature student. That must be it, Clara decided. Some cocky, former city boy who had paid his way through a photography college course and now thought he was Lichfield. Great. Just what she needed this week.

She glanced down. Arrogant bastard had even pointed out the coffee splashes on her skirt. This was turning out to be a jinxed Monday morning. Quickly Clara looked up again, but Frank Cochrane had disappeared through the swinging doors of the attic floor where they had built the set. From inside came the buzz of urgency and occasional shouted order; evidence of a filming shoot well under way. Clara walked off in the opposite direction, heading for the green room. She was completely unaware that Frankie Cochrane was watching her from the doorway.

So that was their famous executive producer, he thought, looking up and down her petite, shapely form. It was great to see a woman with contours for a change. Far sexier than the depressed, skeletal models he was forced to work with so often. Cochrane silently admired the thick hair spilled just to the shoulders of her well-cut jacket. She leaned slowly forward to address the soiled skirt, and he took in the lovely curves of her bottom. Beautiful, Cochrane remarked to himself. As employers went, this Clara Lorimer was seriously appealing. Was she really the workaholic ice maiden some people had told him she was? He knew she ran her own company, and she had the reputation for running it well. He knew she was glamorous, popular with women as well as with men, and that she’d earned genuine respect for her work ethic. He’d checked out her photo on their website, and he also knew now she could do with having another one taken – as it didn’t do her justice in the slightest. She was stunning.

In the lift, Frank was sure he had seen a tear in her eye. Maybe it was just the stress of trying to pull this mammoth job off, in a week. Or maybe as a photographer, never prone to miss a detail in a face, he might have been reading too much into it. But she had a softness, he was sure. There was no doubt that gorgeous body of hers would be soft all over he reckoned, and extremely touchable. And were it not for his precious work calling him on to the set, Frank Cochrane might well have obeyed the sudden, unexpected urge to help the gorgeous little Clara out of her stained skirt there and then.

He had no way of knowing that as he was watching Clara, she was already thinking about him with similar intrigue. He carried an undeniable Irish charm and was certainly extremely handsome, she thought. Despite the faint scar on his forehead and his slightly lop-sided smile. It just made him even sexier. Damned confident, too, she thought. She was the executive and he knew it. But he hadn’t thought twice about taking charge of her dilemma, without giving her the slightest chance to refuse.

Clara examined her skirt and turned to head toward the studio, ready to tackle the demands that lay before her. As she mapped out the week in her head, she wondered just how Frankie Cochrane might feature in it.

8 reviews for Ready for her Close-up

  1. KatD (verified owner)

    did not like it …not enough theme to the story line. Way too long to the spanking scene and it was a let down… The sex scene similar once you got there was not interested anymore.

  2. KatD (verified owner)

    did not like it …not enough theme to the story line. Way too long to the spanking scene and it was a let down… The sex scene similar once you got there was not interested anymore.

  3. Miss contrite (verified owner)

    This started out a good story but got hung up on sex when there could have been so much more. I\\\’ve read both of the other books by this author and prefered their telling but they were good characters just felt the outcome was unrealistic

  4. Miss contrite (verified owner)

    This started out a good story but got hung up on sex when there could have been so much more. I’ve read both of the other books by this author and prefered their telling but they were good characters just felt the outcome was unrealistic

  5. angelia (verified owner)

    very sweet loving story and the brat is left in good hands

  6. angelia (verified owner)

    very sweet loving story and the brat is left in good hands

  7. KArc (verified owner)

    This is not a favorite of mine. There seemed to be to much forced brattiness and not enough time spent with Frank and Clara

  8. KArc (verified owner)

    This is not a favorite of mine. There seemed to be to much forced brattiness and not enough time spent with Frank and Clara

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