Book Title: Xavier’s School of Discipline
Author: S. Legend
Publisher: Mockingbird Publications
Cover Artist: Nadia Polyakova and Chiara Monaco
Inner Book Artist: Artsy Ape
Release Date: April 21, 2021
Genre: Erotic M/M Romance
Trope: Soulmates , Themes: Belonging. Found Family. Spanking. Domestic Discipline.
Length: 83 539 words/306 print pages
This is book one in the series but can be read as a standalone.
Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited
Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK
“… there’s something tantalizing about trouble and me in it with him.”
Blurb
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.
Enter Xavier.
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.
Xavier takes me to the fanciest restaurant he can think of, frowns when I order their burger, but ends up stealing several of my fries, or ‘frites’ as the fancy place calls them, and tells me I’m adorable when I say we should blow this popsicle stand to get ice cream somewhere. We do. “Next time I will take you somewhere less formal,” he tells me. “But you’re special to me, Finn. I wanted to make a big deal.”
“Big deal made. I did enjoy it, promise.” I lean in to kiss the vanilla ice cream off his lips, which is fucking hilarious to me. Vanilla is the last thing Xavier is, yet it’s his favorite ice cream flavor.
We head back to his place and I see he’s got several implements laid out. I know exactly what they’re for. Looks like I’m getting a spanking one way or the other, so I might as well enjoy myself. Time to be a cheeky brat. “Yaaaaawn. Well, looks like it’s time for me to head home to bed. Thank you, the night’s been lovely.”
He slides the door to his apartment shut with purpose and locks it. His eyes glint, sparkling the bluest of blues and his teeth take the form of a shark spotting prey. “You’re not going anywhere, except to my bed.”
I cross my arms. “Make me.”
“With pleasure.” All he moves is his foot, but I see it and I take off. It’s not a large apartment, there are only so many places to go. I head around to the other side of the counter. “If you break one glass back there, this will turn into a real spanking versus the fun one I had planned.”
“There’s nothing here to break. The person who lives here is an anal-retentive bastard; he puts his stuff away soon as he uses it.”
“That’s it.”
I’m laughing, but not for long when he does eventually catch me and hauls me off over his shoulder to the bedroom, placing me succinctly over his knees and pulling my nice pants down; I pay dearly for the anal-retentive bastard comment. Then he pulls out his wooden paddle.
“What’s this spanking for?” I ask.
“Did you think I needed a reason? If you need one, let’s go with because you are utterly spankable.” He smirks and then carries on.
I laugh though. It fucking hurts, but I laugh, go figure—it’s a headspace thing. He then has fun with his tawse and a plastic hairbrush he wanted to ‘try out,’ and when he’s done with me, he’s all spanking drunk and I’m in that floaty, happy place spanking brings me. He sinks his cock into me and takes me to yet another place.
“So, what will you do with your newfound freedom?” he asks, when we’re lying in bed together afterward.
“Nothing. I’m sworn off trouble. I’ll sit at home every night doing my homework and behaving like a good boy.”
“Good plan, even if I doubt that’s what will happen.”
“Ye of little faith.”
“I just know a thing or two about you and brats in general.”
“All right, you’ve got me. But I will endeavor to try.”
“That’s all I ask, just please refrain from things that get you hurt most of all. I can’t bear it,” he says picking up the wrist that was injured to kiss it.
“I can promise that much.”
About the Author
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.
And so.
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 tried. 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.”
Social Media Links
Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram
Newsletter Sign-up: Can either sign up at the website or email
Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win
one of two signed paperback copies
Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts here