Follow Your Heart’s Discipline Calling
Finnegan Brighton is twenty-seven, has never moved out of Dad’s house, can’t keep a job and has to rely on his brother for continued food and shelter. In a bold move, he ships himself off to one of those new, fangle-dangle, discipline schools hoping to turn his life around. But it’s not just a whim, he’s finally answering a calling inside of him, one he’s ignored until now. The school turns out to be more than he bargained for, giving him a family of men just like him, who want to teach him that he can love himself enough to have everything he’s ever wanted. He just has to do the one thing he’s never been able to do: Surrender.
Xavier is the school’s unyielding headmaster and founder. Oh, and he happens to be interested in the one Finnegan Brighton. Surely with the forces of the strict headmaster and Finnegan’s affectionate, if overzealous domestic discipline family, he can overcome himself, his own worst enemy, and surrender to who he is inside, right? Or will his crushing self-doubt chain him to old patterns forever?
Either way, much spanking ensues! A polyamorous love story with brats and Tops.
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Some of you know her as Mock, others as S. Legend, or Miss S. She welcomes all names but will often go by Mock, a name given to her by her readers.
Mock is an ambitious creative, weaving the most precious aspects of her soul into stories. She is an architect, building fascinating worlds, designed from inquiry, rooted in worldly wonderings. It’s an intuitive process where she is the scribe, the translator, the conduit.
It helped that storytelling was the language spoken at home. One simply didn’t say, “We have an ant infestation. ” In Mock’s family it was, “I was on my way to the living room, when a peculiar ant crossed my path. I looked to my right, a suspicious line of them marched toward the pantry. In that moment I knew; my kitchen was under siege.” The natural flow of conversation always took this form.
When Mock wrote her first novel, she didn’t plan it chapter by chapter, there was no outline, no “plotting” to speak of. But she didn’t “pants” it either, she didn’t make it up as she went along. She knew how the story felt, where it curved in places and hollowed in others; she knew the destination it rushed toward. Instead of orchestrating, she let the world inspire her, and held space for the words to come, trusting the characters knew what they were doing. All she had to do was tell a story, as she always had done; like breathing.
This is her peace, her healing and solace: Gifts better shared.
Mock’s works are the comfort you seek when you need to come home. Her unique writing style will take you, wayfaring reader, to unexpected destinations.
She always says, “I’m not in the business of making up stories, I couldn’t if I tired. I’m lucky enough to get picked to share someone else’s story when I ask a question to the universe. Someone answers; I write it down.”
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