Emelie Svennson’s dream is to sing on stage. When a musical troupe passes through her home in Wisconsin, she believes her dream will be fulfilled when the leader invites her to be the star of his show. By the time she realizes that he is nothing more than an abusive bully and her dream is now her nightmare, she finds herself stranded in San Francisco with no money and on the run from the law. As she tries to make her way home to her family, she stops in Culpepper Cove and is drawn to the amazing melodies coming from the Red Petticoat Saloon. The handsome piano player is almost as remarkable as his music.
Charlie Walker adores all of the gems he works with, but from the minute he meets Emelie, he knows there is something special about her. As much as he wants her to stay in Culpepper Cove, the thought of her putting on red petticoats and entertaining men upstairs as Silver cuts him to the core.
As their pasts clash, Charlie will have to work hard to convince his new gem that he will not only love and honor her, but that he won’t hesitate to drag her across his knee for a bare-bottomed spanking that promises to warm more than just her backside. Can he convince the woman with the voice of an angel that dreams can come true?
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Emelie's observations were cut short by Albert stepping in front of her holding a new dress—if you could call it that. It was more like a corset with a tad bit of material at the bottom, which might barely cover her bottom.
"Stand up and get to work. You need to put your dress on for the show."
"Where's the dress?" Emelie inquired with trepidation.
"Are you blind? Here take it." He thrust the scratchy red and black fabric into her arms as
he yanked her to her feet.
She was trembling. He had made her wear low-cut gowns before. Even gowns showing
her ankles to her shame. But only the back-up dancers of the troupe had ever been asked to wear clothing like this on stage. Being on display with them was humiliation enough. There was no way she would dress this part.
"Where is the rest of the outfit?"
"I'm sick of your virginal routine, Emelie. We are not putting on a play for your daddy's church congregation. Your job is to entertain the hard-working men of San Francisco, most of them miners are here to stock up before returning to the solitude of their mines for weeks or months. They want to be entertained. They want to see skin. They want release. It's your job."
"No, Albert. My job is to sing," she argued.
"Watch your tone, little girl. Your job is to entertain. Period. I've given you more than enough chances to sing, but you insist on only singing puritan tunes reminding patrons of their mother instead of the hot-blooded women they came expecting. I warned you to start singing the songs I requested."
"Those songs are scandalous—like this outfit. I won't do it."
Anger rolled off the man in front of her until the newcomer slid next to him, slipping her arm through his and facing off with Emelie with an odd smile on her face. The harlot's eyes raked up and down, taking in the thin, petite body in front of her.
"Look at her, Albert. She's completely wrong for my show. She's skin and bones and clearly frigid."
It didn't happen often, but Emelie watched as Albert looked uncomfortable. He rarely took the time to listen to anyone else, let alone a woman. "I agree. That's why we're going to fatten her up and I'll begin a more personal training program with her. I'll whip her into shape— eventually."
Emelie's ass throbbed—evidence his whipping had already started. "No. She simply won't do."
Who was this woman who dared stand up to the bully she hated? More importantly, why was she here acting like she owned the place?
"Angel, you can't do a show alone. You need backup singers and dancers," Albert countered.
The forgotten other women in the room spoke up. "And you will have them: me and Martha, Sally and Esther."
Emelie's mind raced at the use of the word Angel. It took a few minutes to put it together. When she'd read the playbill, she'd assumed he'd given her a new stage name as he'd promised he would. Never for one minute had she considered that Angel Dixon was someone else.
The new woman was Angel.