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Unlocking Her Chastity (Polar Bear, Alaska)

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Wanting to continue the perception of me being that cool, elusive woman who's from out of town, I decided to leave while I still had an air of mystery about me.

As I walk down the sidewalk with the collar of my coat turned up around my face to try and keep from freezing my cheeks off, I replay the conversation in my mind. "You from around here?" he asked.

Oh my God. It's like a line from a novel. I mean, not the novels I write because the lines are more like, "Hello, fair maiden. Are you from these regions or a land unbeknownst to me?"

The fair maiden who is riding the giant white bear through the lands of Winter Fallhaven. My novels take place in a medieval fantasy land where, instead of riding dragons, the heroes and heroines ride these magnificent polar bear creatures, and instead of green, grassy hills, they tread over icy terrain.

Right now, I'm very glad this is exactly what I write because it's all led me here to this moment, to this day, to Jacob, which, okay, maybe I'm getting a little bit ahead of myself.

It's dinner. One dinner date which, to be honest, I haven't had in pretty much forever. Deep breaths, Juniper, deep, deep breaths.

I consider texting my best friend, Lemon, asking if she has any dating advice. Truth is I haven't been on a date since about, well, high school, which was … about seven years ago. After I graduated from Home Secondary School, I started writing my stories and posting them on the internet until it got picked up by a publisher who was obsessed with my Winter Fallhaven fantasy and began publishing them.

Now, they're in bookstores all over the world, and I'm six books into this medieval, polar bear, romantic epic fantasy world.

My life is fantastic, except, you know, the fact that I'm single and I live in a beautiful, turn-of-the-century mansion all by myself in Western Washington.

I'd sell it in a heartbeat if it meant I had a partner. I mean, there's a murder of crows that like to perch on my roof, and I don't exactly think they count as BFFs, or at least that's what my online therapist tells me.

I'm not going to bother Lemon. I know she is busy helping run her family’s construction company, and with Christmas coming up – she has plenty to keep her busy. Her family was my saving grace when I was a teenager; they took me in when I had nowhere else to turn, and I owe them so much. Besides, I will see them all soon enough at their annual Christmas Eve party. She does not need to text me through a dinner date. I can do this all on my own.

I consider what my therapist would tell me to do right now to prep for this new and exciting experience. She'd probably tell me to get in a good head space, to take a nice walk, to think through how I want the evening to go, what my expectations of a date with this man might entail.

How would I like it to go if he tried to kiss me or do more with me?

Would I be interested? Check. Check. Check. Check.

Yes.

Truth is, I'm a virgin, and I'm very interested in changing that.

I'm very much interested in lots of things regarding that status in fact, and the idea of that changing with a wild-ass mountain man who likes to buy a buttload of cheese seems very appealing to me.

Not that we're going back to his place tonight. No. We're going to the Icicle Inn which is conveniently the same hotel where I am staying, and having a nice dinner together, maybe a cocktail, or four, or six.

And if things get wild and frisky, he could always come back to my hotel room.

I swallow. Maybe I should take that walk and clear my head after all. Being in a hotel room with a man all by myself seems like a leap, considering the last time I kissed a guy was in Lemon’s bedroom in high school during a Halloween party. I was in costume, and I think he thought I was someone else. Not exactly oozing romance.

I take a deep breath and begin a nice, leisurely walk off of Main Street, relishing the brisk air, thankful for my thick leather boots.

A reader made them for me, replicating them from my main character in the series, Bellissima. She wears these beautiful leather boots, and they're made by her brother, Bartimaeus, who is a leather worker. The fact that a fan would make them for me and send them to me still leaves me starstruck. I can't believe this is my life.

I'm filled with gratitude, and that alone calms my nerves. I have plenty to be grateful for, especially this time of year: the holidays that are so hard for so many people.


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