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Celeste Jones writes the funniest, smartest books in the spanking romance genre. They never fail to make me laugh and turn the pages as fast as I can read. She’s got a long-ish excerpt to share with us today. But she starts with this caveat:

With Apologies To Our Friends To the North

In my latest book, Back to Her Future, which is part of Correcting The Coeds, a collection of spanking romance stories set on college campuses in the 1950s with stories by Sue Lyndon, Cara Bristol, Renee Rose and me, Astrid is an American college student in 2016 who is transported back to 1956. To explain her unusual behavior, she tells the hero, Richard “Dick” Johnson, that she’s an exchange student from Canada. With apologies to my Canadian friends, I’ve got a few excerpts to share where basically, Canada is blamed for everything.


Correcting the Coeds - Final Small 200x300Exiting the building, she nearly ran into Dick as he arrived for their date. The campus clock tower struck seven.

“Oh,” she said, taking a step back and looking him over. He wore freshly pressed pants, a crisp white shirt, tie and jacket. His shoes shone so brightly she could see herself. “Y-you look nice.”

“Thank you,” he said. “So do you.”

“I-I’m wearing the same clothes I had on all day. I feel bad that I didn’t dress up as much as you did.” She gave herself a mental kick in the butt for not realizing how different things were in 1956. It wasn’t as though she had an extensive wardrobe to choose from anyway, but she still felt self-conscious since he’d gone to so much trouble.

He took her hand and squeezed it. “You’ll be the prettiest girl there.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led them toward the movie theater across from campus. The texture of his jacket reminded her of one she’d bought at a vintage clothing shop the year before.

I wonder if I can stock up on this stuff to take back with me. I’d make a fortune. If I ever go back, that is.

She stroked her hand along his forearm, reveling in the rich fabric.

“You Canadian girls are awfully forward,” Dick said, removing her hand from his arm and clasping her fingers in his at his side while they walked.

Astrid blinked. Forward?

“I’m sorry,” she said, stifling a giggle. “I hope I have not offended you.” She nearly snorted.

Dick stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to face her, his expression stern. “A young lady’s reputation is her most valuable asset. She ought not to be doing anything to give the impression that she is…forward.”

“Dick,” she said, “I hope you don’t think this is too forward of me, but would you mind if I called you Richard?”

He paused and studied her for a moment before a slow smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “I think that would be nice,” he said. “Any particular reason why?”

Because saying Dick Johnson makes me giggle. “Um, well, in Canada, we’re much more formal, um. Eh?”

“Then Richard it is. And do you have a formal name?”

“No, I’m just Astrid. It’s a very formal name in Canada.”

* * *

They arrived at a crosswalk and just before they stepped into the street, a car stopped right in front of them, splashing water on Astrid’s skirt.

In an instant, she transformed from sweet, 1956 Astrid, to street-smart 2016 Astrid. She slammed her hands on the trunk of the car making a loud thud. “Hey, asshole,” she shouted, “you’re in the crosswalk.”

The driver, an older gentleman in a hat, turned and stared at her, horrified. He looked from Astrid to Richard and back again, then put the car in gear and drove off.

“What a jerk,” Astrid said, turning to Richard, expecting his agreement.

The dark look on his face was her first hint that he was not impressed. “That was quite a show,” he said, his voice low. He grasped her elbow and marched her across the street in the now car-free crosswalk. They entered the campus and he continued to hold her firmly. He steered her to a bench beneath some trees near the library where he sat down and pulled her across his lap.

“What are you doing?” Astrid’s hands touched the ground and she pushed against the earth to raise herself up.

“Hold still,” Richard said, placing a hand between her shoulder blades to keep her in place. His other hand swatted her skirt covered backside several times. Hard. “I don’t know how people act in Canada, but here in the United States, we treat people with respect, particularly our elders. And we most certainly don’t go around calling people a-s-s holes.”

The swats to her backside echoed back from the stone walls of the library. Although she had decided not to talk, Richard had plenty to say. “Astrid, I realize life here is very different from what you are used to in Canada, and you might think our ways are strange, but it’s very important to me that you learn how to get along here in the United States. I would hate for you to offend someone else. You can’t honestly say that pounding on someone’s car—particularly if that someone is an elderly gentleman, and then calling him vulgar names is considered polite behavior in Canada, can you?”

* * *

Using both hands, she pressed against the ground and attempted to return to a standing position, but her plans were thwarted when Richard pulled her closer and tossed the layers of her skirt up until they piled on her lower back. The same cool breeze that had inspired Richard to drape his jacket over her shoulders blew across her buttocks and her flesh quivered, whether from the temperature or anticipation, Astrid dared not say.

“What the—”

In a flash, Astrid’s skirts were brushed back into place and she found herself standing next to Richard, her head spinning a bit from the sudden shift in position and Richard’s change of plans. She studied his face, wondering what disrupted him.

Richard gently took her elbow and they walked silently to the front of the library. “It would be only proper for me to walk you to your dormitory, but I know you said your roommate would be jealous so I will leave you here, if that is okay with you.”

“Um, yes.” Astrid licked her lips, anticipating a good night kiss. “That is very thoughtful of you, Richard.” She slipped his jacket off her shoulders and leaned close to hand it to him, certain that the move would inspire him to kiss her.

He took the jacket in his left hand. With his right, the hand that had been spanking her bottom just a moment before, he shook her hand. “Thank you for a very pleasant evening, Astrid,” he said stiffly before walking away.

A handshake? Astrid stared at her palm and then at Richard’s back as he walked down the sidewalk. A handshake? She’d never felt so completely dissed in her entire life. He had a lot of nerve, spanking her ass and then giving her a handshake like she was his maiden aunt.

Well, she wasn’t going to put up with that. She ran down the sidewalk and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Just what was that about? You spank me and then dump me off at the library with a handshake? I thought you were a nice guy, but you’re just a big jerk like all the others. Like men have been through all phases of time.”

Richard’s face turned beet red. “A-astrid,” he said, obviously straining to maintain eye contact with her, “I hope that before we see each other again you will go shopping for a proper pair of ladies…um…undergarments.” He whispered the last word while staring at the ground. The tops of his ears glowed crimson.

Oh. My. God. Astrid could not bear the idea of stealing underwear from the girls at the gym that morning. Poor, sweet, innocent Richard had expected to see a modest pair of granny panties when he lifted her skirts and instead he was treated to her bare cheeks exposed by a thong.

Much as she wanted to laugh and laugh hard, she knew that doing so, particularly while he was so utterly embarrassed, would be incredibly rude. Astrid stifled her giggles and replied, “Yes, Richard, I will most certainly do that. I apologize if my foreign Canadian ways offended you.”

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek before turning and heading for the library.

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1 Comment

  1. Thanks for hosting me today, Trish. You’re my favorite Canadian. 🙂

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