LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Miles LaPage groaned loudly and put his head in his hands. "I can't do it any more," he groaned out loud, "I just can't bloody well write this stuff any more."

His study was elegant and comfortable with French windows overlooking a large well-tended lawn. It was lined with books and spoke plainly of comfort and wealth. Wealth indeed, for Miles was the world's best known and most successful writer of spanking literature. He had under his writing belt some 3000 short stories, 5 volumes of collected short stories, 12 bestselling novels, 4 plays, 2 TV dramas and 3 film scripts for highly successful films. In a world with an insatiable appetite for spanking fiction, he was the undisputed king.

So why was the undisputed king of spanking fiction groaning out loud in his study? The problem was he had six months to write his new novel and not one single idea was in his head. He had taken a leaf out of the book of a once famous author, one Ian Rankin. Rankin had been a highly successful writer of crime fiction though crime was now so passé that even the charity shops no longer stocked crime novels. However, in his heyday, Rankin had revealed some of his methods to British television. He had a folder full of clippings and notes of ideas which he maintained constantly. When a new novel loomed he would trawl through his folder until just the right idea appeared and then he was off on his writing.

Now Miles sat with his folder which, when opened, seemed to him full of dead ashes, a folder full of sterile ideas and rubbish. Abruptly, he turned the whole lot straight into his waste bin and within five minutes his Facebook and LinkedIn pages had notices heralding his retirement from spanking fiction. He sent out a Tweet and a text and lastly an email to his agent. Within minutes the world reeled with the horrifying news that Miles LaPage had scribed his last spanking. Naturally, there were responses but he saw none of them. Miles had put on his walking gear, donned his boots, and was already striding from the car park on the long winding path up onto the moors.

It had rained for days in heavy bursts interspersed with steady drizzle and everywhere dripped, but today it was dry. The sun shone and there was sparkle on everything as the sun caught the wetness and turned it to beauty. He had left his mobile on his desk which of course is foolish when out on the moors where the weather can change in the blink of an eye, but he knew he would have no peace with it.

Miles was a big man with the build of a labourer, though he had never done manual work. He had dark hair and a strong jaw and women across the globe longed to be spanked by him (as well as other things of course).