guest post

From enemies, to lovers…

AMAZON: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DL3T3JBF

She can heal the dying…

Two men—enemies of her people—will stop at nothing to have her gift, her desire and love

The Prophecy, Book 1

Trapped in a blood feud, Liz uses her healing power to bring Zeke Neekoma from the brink of death so her clan can exploit his prophecies. During the ceremony, she drapes her nudity over his, experiencing his building strength, the stunning pleasure of his caress as he takes her without warning, using her as he wills.

His hunger for a woman he’s supposed to hate isn’t what Zeke expected, nor does he intend to deny himself. Kidnapping Liz, he’s resolved that she heal his brother Jacob ambushed by her people. At his stronghold, Zeke keeps Liz captive to his and Jacob’s desires. The brothers pleasure her without restraint and in ways she’s never known. Before, her life was filled with loneliness and wanting. Now…

Used by two powerful men, threatened by her clan’s determination to get her back, Liz risks all as she surrenders to Zeke’s and Jacob’s lust, the ecstasy of their touch and her most traitorous needs.

EXCERPT:

He lay in the center of the king-sized bed. His breaths were quiet, his eyes closed, legs sprawled, one arm draped over his head as though he was sleeping.

The bullet holes in his muscular left pec contradicted that notion.

Forcing down a swallow, Liz pulled her attention from his wounds—three perfect black circles—to his face.

Her lips parted on a quiet sigh. Rarely had she seen a man wear such a look of serenity. So unlike the terror she’d witnessed on Carreon’s features or those of his men when they’d been so close to death.

Zeke Neekoma was different. The words boyish and innocent came to mind, which Liz dismissed quickly.

Looking to be in his early thirties, he was no boy. Nor was he innocent. His size, surely six-three, his sharp, masculine features and powerful form were perfect for battle against men and pleasure with women.

Heat suffused Liz, making her limbs feel heavy and weak. She recalled what Carreon and his men had told her about Zeke, no doubt a mixture of truth and lies. Not knowing which was which, she moved deeper into the dimly lit room. Spanish-style lamps created pools of honeyed light, giving the space a sacred feel one might experience in a church. The cherry-wood four-poster dominated the sparsely furnished chamber, while a series of leather wing chairs—reserved for observers—circled the bed.

The man who’d been guarding Zeke left the room. Carreon and his men went to their seats, their weight causing the chairs’ legs to scrape against the polished hardwood floor.

For one foolish moment, Liz thought the intrusive noise would cause Zeke to open his eyes and lose his blissful expression. That he’d ask why they’d pulled him from such blessed rest and what appeared to be happiness.

This man didn’t want to be healed. Liz knew it in her soul; saw it in the upward curve of his beautiful mouth. Was he the same as her father, tired of fighting? Or was he welcoming the end so he could reunite with someone he’d loved?

His parents and siblings, perhaps…or a wife.

A new rush of warmth stung Liz’s chest.

Disturbed by the sensation and her aching loneliness—the need for a powerful yet good man at her side—Liz recalled what Carreon’s lieutenants had claimed the first night she’d come here.

“He’ll murder our women and children so our line dies out, just as his kind have always wanted.”

If that was the truth, then Zeke was no different from Carreon, who hunted the weakest, eliminating them first. Once more, she examined Zeke’s face, lingering on his mouth. Instead of a sneer or a smirk, she imagined him smiling at her, his grin honest, reaching his eyes, his wanting of her obvious and—

Stop it.

What was the matter with her, indulging in a romantic fantasy when she was well aware of their people’s conflict and unending hatred for each other? Even if Zeke wasn’t a murdering psychopath, he wasn’t likely to be stirred by a woman from an enemy clan. So why was he affecting her like this? Was it a power he had…or something else. Perhaps the truth as to who he really was?

Ignoring her persistent longing, Liz replaced it with a healthy dose of distrust. “This is Zeke Neekoma?”

“You sound surprised,” Carreon said. “Why?”

About Tina:

Tina’s an Amazon and international bestselling novelist who writes passionate romance for every taste – ‘heat with heart’ – for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. She’s won Readers’ Choice Awards, was named a finalist in the EPIC competition, received a Book of the Year award, The Golden Nib Award, awards of merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competitions, and second place in the NEC RWA contests. She’s featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.

On a less serious note: she’s an admitted and unrepentant chocoholic, brakes for Mexican restaurants, and has been known to moan like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally while wolfing down tostadas. She’s flown a single-engine airplane (freaking scary), rewired an old house using an ‘electricity for dummies’ book, and is horribly shy despite the hot romances she writes.

MeWe: https://mewe.com/i/tinadonahue

Website/Blog: https://tinadonahuebooks.blogspot.com/

Newsletter: https://tinadonahuebooks.blogspot.com/p/newsletter.html

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/tina-donahue

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/146988.Tina_Donahue

Twitter: https://twitter.com/tinadonahue

Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/tinadonahue

Amazon author page: https://amzn.to/1ChWFkO

Sweet ‘n Sexy Divas: https://sweetnsexydivas.blogspot.com/

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/AuthorTinaDonahue 

Shoulda been a cowboy…

PLEASE WELCOME LYNDI’S ADVENTUROUS FRIEND LEE ANN SONTHEIMER MURPHY!

Sometimes an author finds a story but often a story finds the author. My recent release, The Cowboy’s Last Chance (The Wild Rose Press) is one of those tales that tracked me down, hollered in my ear until I sat down to write.

Cowboys have always intrigued me, both contemporary and in the past. Growing up in the historic city of St. Joseph, Missouri – where the short-lived Pony Express began and outlaw Jesse James met his end – the past was always nearby. I lived in a home built in the 1870’s and in our aged neighborhood, no one lived in anything new. Some of the streets were still brick and there were so many places an imaginative child could envision the past. At the age of nine, I attended a multi-generational family reunion where my great-grandfather’s brother took a liking to me. He asked if I could spend some time with him so I did. He told me tales about the family. An interesting man in his own right, the former prison guard at the Missouri State Penitentiary in Jefferson City, Missouri, shared stories of how the family headed for California in a wagon trail in 1849. They were bound for the gold fields but instead, they stopped in St. Joseph and stayed. It might have been because Elizabeth Bruce Lewis was with child. My great-great grandfather, the first Thomas Jefferson Lewis, was born in April of1850 in St. Joe.

My hometown in that era was a crossing spot for covered wagons heading west. It was also populated by cowboys, more than a few Native Americans, and other frontier characters. I grew up, despite living in town, attending rodeos and playing with horses at my dad’s friend’s farm. His name was Owen Pulley but I called him “Old Mac Owen.”

Fast forward from childhood to the present. I grew up and became an author, something I dreamed about while I was a student at Webster Elementary School. I penned my first novel, such as it was, in the fifth grade, scribbled in the back of my blue pressed cardboard binder. By the time I wrote “The Cowboy’s Last Chance”, I had multiple titles under my belt. Some were about cowboys, others about military men, and even vampires. My career began by writing sexy novels for another publisher but I had decided I’d rather tell a story than describe sex.

A bull riding cowboy came into my head. He was tall and lean and strikingly handsome. Calhoun Kelly had suffered terrible tragedy in his life. Despite close ties with his remaining brother’s family, he was lonely. Before long, my overactive imagination created a young woman who had experienced her own hardships. Vivian Blackburn returned to Southwest Missouri to pursue a career in freelance photography. Once she attends a rodeo, hoping for some action shots, and meets Calhoun, their attraction grows.

Here’s the blurb: When Vivian Blackburn, recently returned to Southwest Missouri after her grandmother suffered a health setback, sets out to shoot pictures at a rodeo, she’s not looking for a cowboy but when she meets bull rider Calhoun Kelly, she’s found one. They have an instant attraction and rapport, so much that she follows him on the rodeo circuit. When they can, they head back to Missouri to visit her grandmother. They’re compatible in every way but one – he has a strong Christian faith and she lost hers after her parents died. Still, they stay together through his bull riding lumps and bumps on the rodeo circuit. When Vivian experiences strange dreams that seem to warn Calhoun of upcoming danger, she doesn’t know what to think and when the messages spread through his family, everyone is concerned. Calhoun decides to hang up his spurs at the end of the season but before he does, he and Vivian are married. They decide they’ll settle at her grandmother’s old farmhouse but not until he rides his last rodeo. When he’s critically injured, his life hangs in the balance. Will Vivian find her faith and pray or be widowed? It’s a close call but time will tell.

Here’s a taste of how they met:

Vivian never noticed the cowboy until he stepped up beside her and spoke.

“I’d order something else if I were you.” His voice resonated voice deep and quiet with some twang. “Those chili dogs bark back.”

Vivian raised her head to him.. He stood at least six feet tall, with a lean body. His curly hair gleamed black as a moonless midnight beneath his cowboy hat and touched his shirt collar. Since he wore jeans, a burgundy paisley Western shirt, well-worn boots with spurs, leather chaps, and a protective vest, Vivian figured he planned to complete. “What do you mean, they bark back?”

He put his right hand over the center of his abdomen. “They’re likely to bring on a bellyache. I didn’t figure a pretty lady like you wanted that.”

“I don’t,” Vivian stated. His dark brown eyes met hers, deep and candid. Beneath the scruff, he turned out to be handsome. “What would you recommend?”

He laughed. “I don’t eat before I ride rough stock. I won’t eat until after the rodeo and probably somewhere in town. If I was going to eat here, I’d probably go for a funnel cake or maybe a turkey leg. I’m Calhoun Kelly, by the way.”

Readers and reviews seem to like the novel. The most recent 5-star review from NN Light’s Book Heaven says, in part, “The Cowboy’s Last Chance is a heartfelt Christian western romance. It’s a romance filled with emotional tension. The descriptive narration is detailed so every scene is vividly portrayed. The ins and outs of the rodeo circuit are peppered throughout the story. The plot moves at a good pace. The faith undercurrent is well-done and realistic. It’s the characters, though, that make The Cowboy’s Last Chance worth reading.” 

The title is available in both eBook and paperback formats.  In addition to these links, it can be found at Target, Walmart, Apple, Books A Million, Kobo and more.

The Cowboy’s Last Chance

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-cowboys-last-chance-lee-ann-sontheimer-murphy/1146105247

https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/the-cowboys-last-chance_lee-ann-sontheimer-murphy/53633296/

https://www.google.com/books/edition/The_Cowboy_s_Last_Chance/H3Hc0AEACAAJ

https://allauthor.com/book/90806/the-cowboys-last-chance/

The Cowboy’s Last Chance

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-cowboys-last-chance-lee-ann-sontheimer-murphy/1146105247

A different sort of Broome for Halloween

Australians and overseas tourists love Broome where much of my novel ‘Broome Enigma’ is set. A tropical, cosmopolitan town in the Australian Outback, its isolation and colorful red cliffs, white sands and turquoise ocean evoke a primeval response in visitors.

Once seen, the reds of Gantheaume Point and the vast white sands and turquoise sea of Cable beach will stay in the mind.

When writing of Broome and of travel between Broome and Perth, I drew on personal memories of the area. My travel book ‘Exploring Outback Australia’, with photos and maps by my husband, Hartley Tobin, provided further prompts.

A goodlooking tanned young man we saw working in an Outback caravan park inspired the creation of ‘Broome Enigma’s’ hero Joe and the story. Dressed only in jeans and sandals and shifting around sprinklers, he looked as if he had just stepped off a film set about surfers. However, his personality did not match this image. He did not smile and had a ‘dampened down’ personality. Wondering how someone like him came to be working in a caravan park, I played the ‘What If…?’ game. In time answers formed and I came up with a hero whose past life was shrouded in mystery. This eventually led to a back story. He and the heroine Jodie set out to uncover the secrets of his past.

Early on, the title popped into my head. It fitted because the novel was set in Broome and the hero, a complex person, was a mystery, as were various layers of the story, such as the underbelly in Broome society I constructed.

I wanted ‘Broome Enigma’ to be a good read, in which readers shared the emotional rollercoaster experienced by the two main characters, especially the heroine as the book is through her point of view. As reader Jill Sutton, wrote, “I very much enjoyed joining all the characters in their exciting adventures.”

Even better if the book made readers feel good about themselves and about the world and maybe learned something they didn’t know before. As reader, Kathy McKean wrote, “I felt sad to finish the novel. I felt like I had lost some new friends that I had made and whose company I enjoyed.”

By spending time with pleasant people who have faced up to and overcome serious challenges, hopefully readers will also have insights into their own challenges, especially in their search for a special person with whom to share their life.

Many people have now read my book and many comment on the setting, Broome in 1986, when life was slower and mobile phones were not in use. (This was important to the unfolding of the story.) Those who have visited the area said it brings back memories, while others who haven’t been said they were inspired to visit.

On a working holiday in Australia’s cosmopolitan Outback town of Broome in 1986, Jodie, a young book designer and artist is open to romance and adventure.

 At the holiday village where she is staying, she meets Joe, a young man who works there. Despite the strong attraction between them, the many unknowns about his earlier life keep them apart. To try to uncover his mysterious past, they travel to Perth and back to Broome and are drawn into not only bizarre but also dangerous situations.

Is Joe the person she thinks he is, or is he some alter ego? Can Jodie and Joe stop their relationship from developing until they have answers and know if he is free to love her?

Excerpt:

A big gust of wind rocked the van and flung Jodie hard against Joe. He pushed her off.

“Joe, it’s me, Jodie! Wake up, wake up!”

“Jodie, is that you?” He threw his arms around her and buried his head in her chest.

She brushed his hair back from his sweating face. “Take it easy, Joe. Take deep breaths. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

He stopped shaking and pulled back from her. “What’s happening?”

“It’s the cyclone. Don’t you remember?”

Another huge gust shook the van and sent Jodie sprawling on Joe’s bunk and into the wall. “Ow, that hurt!” She picked herself up and rubbed her head.

The van rocked violently again. Joe and Jodie grabbed for handholds.

“Quick, come into my bed with me, Joe. It will be safer there.” Tripping and feeling their way along the wall, the two made their way to the double bed and clambered in.

Her breathing coming in short spasms, she lay on her back and took deep breaths. The storm whined and screeched about her, and the roof creaked and scraped.

“Oh, my god, the roof’s going to take off any minute!”

Joe’s arms enveloped her. “Hush, everything will be all right. But will you be okay if we have to make a run for it?”

“Yes.” She let out a sob. “But I like our chances better in here than out there.”

Joe kissed her forehead. He pulled her closer and they lay locked against each other while the storm raged around them.

Social media links:

https://www.facebook.com/meryl.tobin.18

https://sites.google.com/view/merylbrowntobin-author

Buy links: ‘Broome Enigma’ is for sale in book stores and on over 40 websites in at least 16 countries including Australia, Austria, Brazil, Canada, Denmark, France, Germany, India, Italy, Japan, New Zealand, Spain, The Netherlands, Switzerland, UK and USA.

Websites include https://www.amazon.com.au/Broome-Enigma-Meryl-Brown-Tobin/dp/1509250638

Broome Enigma by Meryl Brown Tobin | Goodreads.

Bio

A former secondary teacher, Australian writer Meryl Brown Tobin has published 22 books, including a novel, travel book, educational puzzle books and poetry books, and hundreds of poems, puzzles, short stories, articles, cartoons and comic strips. A guest on Ch7’s children’s TV program The Book Place, she and a presenter read her children’s picture storybook LEFTY.

Apart from family and home, her interests include travel, bushwalking, conservation, current affairs and social justice issues. The Tasmanian Tiger fascinates her, and she’d love to prove it is not extinct.

New paranormal romance from Lisabet Sarai!

BDSM and Romance

“BDSM? Yuck!” I have the impression that this represents the reaction of many romance readers when someone offers them a title that includes Bondage, Discipline, Sadism, or Masochism. What is romantic about pain, suffering and humiliation? Why would anyone enjoy reading about whippings, spankings, restraints that contort the body into embarrassing and awkward positions, severe punishments that are administered in response to the tiniest lapse in obedience? My personal position is that BDSM literature (sometimes labeled D/s – Dominance and submission) can be as emotionally satisfying and erotically charged as any romance.

For me, the essence of a D/s relationship lies in the emotional bond between the dominant and the submissive. The physical trappings and conventional activities – the riding crop and the gag, the handcuffs and the nipple clamps, the whippings and the binding – are side issues, merely the methods chosen to express, explore, and strengthen the bond. Others may associate BDSM with humiliation, cruelty, abuse, and agony. In my view, BDSM is about devotion, commitment, trust, and ecstasy.

The BDSM that I write, and that I enjoy reading, focuses primarily on the connection between the characters in the “power exchange”. What do I mean by “power exchange”? This D/s jargon refers to the fact that submissive voluntarily gives up control to the dominant. In return, the dominant accepts responsibility for the submissive’s well-being and ultimately, for his or her pleasure. The sub surrenders herself to the Dom, in devotion and trust. (For now I’ll assume a female submissive. I’ve written both male- and female-dominant tales, as well as some lesbian D/s, but it gets awkward to keep using multiple pronouns!) The Dom can do whatever he wants with the sub; she has, after all, given her consent. He has the intoxicating knowledge that by taking what he desires, he will also give his sub what she most craves: the satisfaction of pleasing her master and the freedom to experience her most intimate fantasies of ravishment and abuse. 

But what about the pain? Intense emotional connection, trust, devotion, that all sounds wonderful, but is it worth suffering beneath the lash, enduring the ropes biting into your flesh? I don’t particularly seek out pain, though I understand that some BDSM practitioners do. In any case, pain is a strange thing. It depends on expectations as much as on reality. I have read that native American women did not experience any pain at childbirth because their culture viewed labor and delivery as joyous and easy. (Those of you who are mothers might be skeptical.)

Personal experience has taught me that when you are unbelievably turned-on, pain does not necessarily feel bad. For one thing, elevated levels of endorphins  decrease pain sensitivity levels. Whip strokes and spankings stimulate the senses; it is the mind that translates them as pleasure or pain, or sometimes both at once.

Have I convinced you that dominance and submission can be romantic? If not, perhaps you’d be interested to know that, although I live half a world away from him, and am married to another man, the man I call Master and I still send each other Valentines. And every time I write a BDSM scene, I think of him, with gratitude and love.

I am who I am, and I know what you want.

Rebecca believes in magic. She has never lost her childhood love of Halloween, when she can don a costume and step away from her boring, ordinary self. For one night, she transforms into someone else – someone mysterious, daring, sensual and seductive.

When All Hallow’s Eve finds her stranded at a seedy motel a hundred miles from her friend’s annual party, she is desperately disappointed. Then she discovers that her room is haunted by the invisible but unquestionably virile ghost of a rake who seduced local women nearly half a century earlier.

EXCERPT: (rated R)

The costume worked its magic. I was astonished at how regal I looked, and how desirable. The bodice pinched my waist to tiny dimensions, and forced my breasts upwards. The square-cut neckline drew attention to my swelling flesh, barely hiding my nipples. In fact, they were not hidden at all. Though I’d lined the top with muslin as the pattern specified, the tight nubs were clearly visible through several layers of fabric.

I cradled my breasts and used my thumbs to trace circles around those sensitive buds. With each cycle, the spring of tension in my pelvis wound tighter. A light flick of my thumbnail sent electricity down my spine and triggered spasms of pleasure. I worried briefly that the juices trickling out of my pussy would spoil the satin. But after all, what did it matter? There was no one to see me tonight, no one to please but myself.

“You certainly do look sexy. Like something right out of de Sade.”

“What? Who…?” I whirled around in confusion, my heart slamming against my ribs. The voice had been close, right next to my ear. Yet the room was empty, unchanged. The same warped walls, the same thread-bare carpet, the same rusty stains on the ceiling. The rumpled bed where I’d had my tantrum. The almost-empty glass on the dresser.

Ah, the liquor. I must be more drunk than I thought. I turned back to the mirror, searching my face for signs of intoxication, and yelped as something, someone, pinched my nipples.

“Hey! That hurts.” Indignation overwhelmed fear.

“It does, at first. But afterwards, it changes, doesn’t it? Afterwards, it feels quite delicious.” I stared at my image, mouth hanging stupidly open, as invisible hands caressed my breasts. Strong hands, gentle hands, hands that seemed to know exactly how to make me shiver with delight. “That’s what most people don’t understand about pain. It’s the gateway to the most exquisite pleasure.”

The voice was a melodious baritone, rich, deep, almost hypnotic. “You fear the pain, but that’s foolish. You must surrender to the pain. Let it move through you. Let it wash away your doubts and your inhibitions. Let it open you to ecstasy.”

Firm, unseen lips nibbled at my neck. A warm, wet tongue traced the curve from below my ear to my exposed shoulder, then down to the hollow at my throat. With each touch, extravagant new species of pleasure bloomed in my sex. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, savoring the delicate caresses and the amazing sensations that they triggered.

Suddenly something sharp pierced the rounded flesh of my shoulder. I screamed, surprise heightening the agony that gripped me, and tore myself away from the grasp of the unseen intruder.

My reflection made me gasp in horror and wonder.  Droplets of blood oozed from several wounds on my shoulder, wounds arranged in the distinctive semi-circular shape of a bite.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/1665-rendezvous/

Amazon  US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DJZ93M23

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DJZ93M23

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1632465

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rendezvous-lisabet-sarai/1017487787?ean=2940167735668

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6736960598

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/220378140-rendezvous

Add on Bookbub – https://www.bookbub.com/books/rendezvous-by-lisabet-sarai

BDSM Paranormal Romance

11,600 words, 47 pages

Smashwords and Amazon KDP

ISBN (Smashwords): 9798224035007

ASIN: ‎‎B0DJZ93M23‎

Hashtags/Keywords

#Halloween #HauntedMotel #Ghost #Dominance #Submission #Bondage #Costume #ParanormalRomance #EroticRomance

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Beatrice Parquet–A new author enters the world!

THANKS FOR BEING WITH US TODAY. FIRST, WOULD YOU TELL US A BIT ABOUT YOURSELF? WHAT AREA OF THE COUNTRY DO YOU LIVE IN, DO YOU HAVE FAMILY, PETS, ETC.

I’m a single mom of adult twin daughters. I live alone since my girls deserted me for marriage, and my cat went to kitty heaven earlier in the year. Originally, I hailed from New York City but landed on a few mountaintops and a Florida lakefront teeming with alligators before settling in Delaware with my children.

ARE YOU A COFFEE FIEND, OR DO YOU HAVE ANOTHER ADDICTION YOU MUST HAVE ON YOUR DESK AT ALL TIMES?

I am not a coffee fiend, but I require a cup to get moving in the morning. And since I’m a klutz prone to spills, you won’t find my cup on my desk. There are no must-haves on my desk, other than chaos.

IS YOUR EDUCATION RELEVANT TO YOUR WRITING, OR HAVE YOU BRANCHED OFF IN SOMETHING ENTIRELY DIFFERENT TO CREATE? HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR BOOK?

I majored in business administration, so writing was not on my radar. It has just evolved. Who Said Forever? is a sweet romance.

TELL US ABOUT YOUR MOST RECENT PUBLICATION.

Who Said Forever? follows the unexpected romantic entanglements of Cassandra, a woman not keen on men after she dumped her cheating fiancé. Her matchmaking father doesn’t make her life easy and add an out-of-town rancher to the mix, and the woman who dislikes men is suddenly up to her elbows with the male species.

I hope the message it conveys is that one broken heart isn’t a life sentence. The novel is a bit of a rom-com novel with real-life problems.

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO WRITE THIS STORY? WHAT INTERESTING THING DID YOU LEARN OR RESEARCH TO WRITE IT THAT YOU DIDN’T KNOW BEFORE?

What inspired me to write at that time initially had nothing to do with this particular story. First, there was the pandemic, and then I suffered my second bout of breast cancer. To keep from going stir-crazy and doing yet another Word Search book, I sat down at the laptop. And writing a romance novel was my way of vicariously seeking a happy-ever-after in my unsuccessful world of romance.

I am a stickler for accuracy. One character is the lieutenant governor of Florida. The man needed a stately home, and I took to Zillow to find him one. Another character is a rancher from Wyoming. Knowing nothing whatsoever about ranching or Wyoming, I Googled up the specifics of cattle ranching and learned that you need to own at least 10,000 head of cattle to have a substantial ranch. Who knew? And since the novel is set in Tallahassee, Florida, it was necessary to know the logistics of air travel from Casper, Wyoming. I found out there are no direct flights. Air travel between those two cities could use some improvement.

WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE THING ABOUT THE BOOK FEATURED HERE TODAY? ANY SPECIAL MEMORIES YOU HAVE IN THE CREATION OF IT?

I’m happy that I was able to write an ending that I felt did the characters and the story justice. The one readers would be most happy with.

When I started writing, Who Said Forever? I knew how and where I wanted it to begin and how it would end. What I didn’t know was what would happen in between. I was amazed by the way the story evolved and the direction the character’s lives took.

WHAT DO YOU MOST LIKE ABOUT WRITING? LEAST LIKE? WHEN DID YOU FIRST KNOW YOU WANTED TO BE AN AUTHOR?

What I like most is that I feel like I’ve been given a vacation without a return date, tour guide, or a map. I have no set timeline to return, can stop wherever I want along the way, and I am solely in charge of the journey. What I like least is the endless rewrites and edits. The writing bug hit me when I started writing poetry in high school. I began writing novels in earnest about thirty years ago, but life got in the way.

DO YOU BELONG TO ANY WRITING GROUPS? ARE THERE ANY WRITING WEBSITES YOU FIND PARTICULARLY USEFUL?

I belong to a group of writers who meet at the library once a month. There are two moderators who run workshops. I am also a member of AutoCrit, an editorial online program, and attend weekly webinars by their team on how to improve or polish your writing skills. I find both to be invaluable.

IS THERE ANY SPECIAL MUSIC YOU LIKE TO LISTEN TO WHILE WRITING?

I prefer quiet when I write. But for a change of pace, as an opera fan, I listen to LaBoheme or Madam Butterfly.

DO YOU BELONG TO A CRITIQUE GROUP?

I do not care for critique groups. They are usually not genre-specific, and the comments are like comparing apples to oranges.

TO ENCOURAGE THOSE STILL ON THE PATH, TELL US A LITTLE ABOUT YOUR PATH TO PUBLICATION. HOW MANY BOOKS HAVE YOU PUBLISHED? HOW BOOKS DID YOU WRITE BEFORE SELLING ONE?? WHAT DO YOU THINK WAS THE KEY TO SELLING THAT FIRST BOOK?

In the last three years, I wrote three manuscripts. The first two are more of a literary style. Who Said Forever? is quick-paced and contemporary.Through direct submission, I was working with a small press publisher. We parted company when the editor requested a change of style that didn’t represent my writing.Wanting to get this novel out, I chose self-publishing. Who Said Forever? is my debut novel. Since this book is self-published, perseverance, drive, and confidence in my writing were crucial in my novel making it to print.

WHAT ARE YOU WRITING NOW? WHAT’S NEXT FOR YOU—WILL YOU BE MAKING PERSONAL APPEARANCES ANYWHERE OUR READERS CAN FIND YOU?

I am working on a Rom-Com. Who Said Forever? is available on Amazon in eBook and paperback, and I am in the process of working with Barnes and Noble for online publication. Book signings at local stores are a possibility in the future.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WOULD LIKE TO ADD?

Like me on Facebook: Beatrice Parquet, or follow me at: Beatrice Parquet Author  Get in on the ground level and watch me grow!

A gypsy by nature, Beatrice Parquet originally hailed from New York City before touching down on a few mountaintops and a Florida lakefront teeming with alligators. A “Jackie” of many occupations—Human Resources manager, high-rise building management, and the medical field—she now writes full-time from her Delaware home. She is as comfortable behind a laptop as with a chainsaw cutting down a tree.

Who Said Forever? is her debut novel and was written while undergoing treatment for her second bout of breast cancer treatment. Besides being a novelist, she is a published poet and short-story writer and a single mother of adult twin daughters.

Get ready for a wild ride!

 A tenacious TV reporter has 48 hours to illegally enter Cuba, find
her sister, and avenge her mámá. Don’t miss the
spine-tingling sequel to Emmy-award winning journalist Linda Hurtado
Bond’s immersive thriller, All The Broken Girls.

All the Missing Girls

by Linda Hurtado
Bond

Genre: Thriller,
Suspense

Once
you enter their world, there is no escape…in this gripping and
undeniably chilling thriller from Emmy-award winning journalist Linda
Hurtado Bond.

As a crime reporter for a Tampa TV news
station, Mari Alvarez knows when an investigation enters dangerous
territory. But with her estranged sister missing and almost no
information to go on, Mari can’t trust anyone but herself to find
the truth. Now she has just 48 hours to sneak into Cuba undetected,
track down her sister…and pray to her orisha that she’s not too
late.

This is nothing like reporting in her neighborhood,
though–a place she knows like the back of her hand. In Havana she
has no contacts and only an ice-cold trail of cryptic clues. When
Detective Tony Garcia offers to help, Mari puts aside her instincts
and tries to let someone in. But soon they’re caught in a maze of
lies, deception, and an undercurrent of the island’s own
witchcraft, a sinister Brujería.

Every lead draws Mari
further into this world of shadows, especially when her sister isn’t
the only young woman who’s gone missing. Each step pushes Mari and
Tony toward a revelation they never saw coming. And as they close in
on the horrifying truth, one thing becomes clear…no one will let
them leave Cuba alive.

Amazon
* Apple
* B&N
* Google
* Kobo
* Entangled
Publishing * Bookbub
* Goodreads

Also by the Author: 

All the Broken Girls

Get it on Amazon

 Linda Hurtado Bond is an award-winning journalist for Tampa’s Fox 13
by day and author of romantic thrillers by night. She has won 13 Emmy
awards, numerous Society of Professional Journalist and Associated
Press awards, as well as a Florida Bar and an Edward R. Murrow award.
A breast cancer survivor, she’s also active in the Tampa community
with The American Cancer Society, Hooked on Hope, and The Shoot for a
Cure, raising money and awareness any chance she gets. She’s the
mother of five, four athletes and an adopted son from Cuba. She has
passion for world travel, classic movies and solving a good mystery.

Website
* Facebook *
X * Instagram
* Bookbub
* Amazon
* Goodreads

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the tour HERE
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Sometimes one plus one equals three…

Welcome frequent blog guest Lisabet Sarai with a new boxed set of love!

Who knew?

It had been months since I’d published any new titles. Meanwhile, my current WIP was proceeding at a snail’s pace due to the demands of my day job, summer vacations, and other real world interruptions. So a few weeks ago, I decided to mine my back list and put together a boxed set to sell on Kindle Unlimited, to see if I could push my Amazon ratings back into positive territory.

I had a few stories in mind, romance tales in the twenty-thousand word region which were originally published years ago, and which might not be familiar to my current readership. (In addition, the KU audience doesn’t overlap much with my usual readers.) I started with three titles. When I looked at the works I’d selected, I saw that they shared a focus on three-way relationships. Then, as I scanned my publishing history, I started to find additional stories on the same theme.

I ended up including six tales in the Triad collection (over 100K words). Actually, I identified a number of other candidates as well, but decided they weren’t as good a fit. Indeed, when I examined the romance I’d written over the past decade and a half, I discovered that I’d written nearly as many threesomes as I had couples.

This was something of a revelation to me. I’ve always been attracted to polyamory, but I didn’t realize how pervasive that interest had become in my writing. If you’d asked me what my “favorite” genre or theme was, I would have cited dominance and submission. But it seems three-way love is at least as common in my writing.

Who knew?

Why should soul mate be singular? Can one person really satisfy every need and desire?

Triad is a compilation of erotic romance tales about threesomes – not fleeting, lust-driven ménage a trois encounters but stable, loving relationships that involve three people. A long-married couple’s ardor is rekindled when another man seduces each of them in turn. A lonely, embittered vampire finds redemption in the arms of his two young victims. A mistletoe kiss reawakens passion between old friends, until Suzanne discovers Gino already has a life partner. An alien pair offers love and immortality to the only survivor of a interstellar disaster.

Steamy and explicit, unapologetically romantic, Triad celebrates the joys of three-way polyamory.

EXCERPT:

Rated R (From Once Upon a Blizzard)

Suzanne had never seen stars so bright. The night sky was a black bowl above them, studded with blazing jewels. The snow blanketing the yard gleamed with some faint inner radiance. At the edges of the property, evergreens clustered in deeper shadow like silent sentinels.

She took a deep breath of the crystalline air, so cold and sharp it hurt her lungs. The tiny hairs inside her nose stood on end. Her earlobes felt like icicles. From the neck down, though, she was bathed in delicious warmth. The bizarre contrast almost made her giggle.

Smooth, hard muscle brushed her thigh. After a moment, roving fingers skittered across her lap and burrowed into her pubic fur. A fiery bolt of lust struck her core.

“Gino!” she scolded. “Behave!”

“Why should I?” asked her lover, rubbing his body against hers under the surface of the water. “Harry doesn’t mind. Do you?”

The lanky blond on Gino’s other flank grinned. “Not at all. Long as you keep up what you’re doing over here, that is.”

Harris had untied his ponytail. His golden locks flowed over his shoulders, darkening to sepia where wet. With his thin face and chiseled features, he looked like some warrior ascetic, a knight on a quest for some sacred prize. Suzanne could understand why Gino found him attractive. She wondered whether he really was one-hundred percent gay.

Leaning back against the redwood wall and closing her eyes, she allowed the peace of the night to enfold her. Her limbs were heavy. Her heart felt as though it was about to overflow.

The growl of motors and a rattling of metal reached her ears. Gino’s solar-heated hot tub was at the back of the house, away from the street. Still, the faint noise shattered the intense quiet of the snow-smothered night.

“Plows,” said Harris, cocking his head in the direction of the sound. “At last.” He pointed to the cloudless sky. “Looks like they were wrong about more snow, though.”

“We’ll drive you over to Pelham early tomorrow morning,” Gino added. “Actually, the highway department might have towed your car already. We’ll call first, assuming we’ve got power. Anyway, don’t worry, you’re likely to be well on your way back home by tomorrow afternoon.”

Home. Suzanne didn’t want to think about California—her neat, modern, empty condo, all the problems and decisions awaiting her at work, the bland weather and the vacant sky.

“There’s no rush,” she said finally. “I’m going to miss my Monday appointment anyway. But thank you.” She squeezed Gino’s hand. “For everything.”

Now, despite all that they had done together, she found she was shy. Steam drifted up in pale swirls from the heated surface of the water. Underneath, she could barely make out the shape of their naked limbs. “I’m going to miss you,” she murmured finally. “Both of you.”

“You’ll be back for Christmas, though, won’t you?” Gino’s eyes were shadowed but Suzanne understood the yearning she’d see there, if there were more light.

“Maybe…” she began. She imagined another holiday with her parents, pleasant but predictable. They wouldn’t mind if she disappeared after the opening of the presents. And suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought of not being with Gino again, very soon. “Yes. I’ll be back. I promise.”

“Wonderful.” Gino pulled her into a kiss that made her heart pound and her pussy tremble. “You can stay over, you know,” he added when he finally released her. “You can stay for as long as you want.”

“The house has six bedrooms,” Harris commented. “Way more space than we need.”

“Yeah—even with my office and Harry’s studio, there are two rooms we barely use.”

“We do have broadband Internet, by the way. Even if we don’t have mobile service.”

“There’s a local limo company that can get you to Logan in two hours. Harry uses it when he has an exhibition in New York…”

“This is freak weather,” Harris interrupted. “Most winters we don’t get much snow.”

“And the summers here are glorious, green everywhere, bright sun and lingering twilights, fresh sweet corn and luscious home-grown tomatoes…”

“I know!” Suzanne couldn’t keep from laughing. “I grew up here, remember?”

“I thought that maybe you’d forgotten,” said Gino, his voice soft.

“No,” she replied, flush with a recollection of the loyal, clever tease he’d been in school. “I remember very well.”

Buy Links

Free on Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DCT7NC8C

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0DCT7NC8C

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DCT7NC8C

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/217367481-triad

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Hot, new paranormal romance from Tina Donahue!

 
 

The Craving

NEW RELEASE

Book Two The Wanderers

Erotic Paranormal Romance

AMAZON

 

She’s everything he’s desired… He’s the one man she shouldn’t crave.

Knowing the danger the Wanderers pose, Erica Vega intends to hunt down the mysterious
group steeped in dark magic, curses, and mind control. As a Deputy U.S. Marshal,
she has the law behind her, along with her telekinetic powers. Let the chase
and battle begin.

Not so fast. Her superior forbids her to go after any Wanderer, instead ordering
her to work cold cases with her new partner Lucian Navari.

Tall, dark, and hotter than sin, Lucian doesn’t play by the book. He has his own
agenda and agrees to help Erica hunt Wanderers on the sly where he and she can
be up close and personal.

Erica’s not one to mix duty with pleasure, but he’s impossible to resist in too damn
many ways. As they investigate an elusive Wanderer, nothing is as it appears—she
can’t trust what she sees or believes. Lies masquerade as truth, and deception
rules while she and Lucian grow closer in a carnal dance that will change their
lives.

Excerpt:

He shoved his hair back. “You still don’t trust me.”

She did, more than any man in her life, except for Mike. However, when people got
rattled or drank, they sometimes blurted stuff they shouldn’t. Not their fault,
but it didn’t make things better. “If by chance you ever say anything about my
power, I’ll deny it. I’ll make you sound like a loon. That’s a promise.”

“You think I’m that much of a prick?”

She’d never met a finer man. With him, she felt comfortable and safe. He’d protected
her after the tree incident and tried to stop her from behaving like a maniac.
Today, they’d become friends without even trying. She should have been scared
at the notion and for breaking one of her work rules. Instead, relief washed
over her. She wasn’t alone in this. “You’re the man. How many times do I have
to keep telling you?”

He chuckled. “God, you’re something.” He searched her face. “Are you all right?”

Her insides still trembled. She suspected from doubt and unease about Pope, and at
having Lucian here, close and alone with her. “I won’t lie, I’ve been calmer.
Maybe a beer will help. Can I get you one?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

She delivered the brew, along with damp dish towels to clean their faces and hands.
Once they were finished, she dropped the things onto the cocktail table and
gestured him to her cloth sofa, large enough to seat four or serve as a
makeshift bed for an overnight guest. They sat on adjoining cushions. She
didn’t mind having him near. His proximity, scent, and heat unsettled her in a
good way. She gulped her beer, hoping it would help her forget the bad stuff.

Lucian sipped his drink and regarded her.

Her throat and face stung with heat. “You’re staring again.”

“Do you mind?”

“Maybe.”

“Then stop making it so easy.”

She lowered her face and smiled. “There’s dust on your shirt and pants.”

He looked and shrugged. “I don’t care, if you don’t.”

His deep voice soothed. His big body promised excitement, comfort, refuge from a
crappy world. Stuff she shouldn’t want, at least from him. Work relationships
always got complicated no matter how she controlled her feelings. Throwing
attraction into the mix made things worse. She gulped more beer.

“You’re sure you’re all right?”

Bubbles tickled her nose. She rubbed it and wanted to lie, tell him to go home, she was
okay and didn’t need him here. The words wouldn’t come. She looked at him.

He lifted his shoulders. “What?”

Never had she wanted a man as she did him. “Screw this.” She put her bottle on the
cocktail table and crawled onto his lap, straddling his legs. “Don’t talk, please.” She cupped his face. “Unless you don’t want me.”

His eyes rounded. “Are you joking? Hell yeah, I do.”

“Shhh.” She didn’t want words. She needed intimacy and fitted her mouth to his.

He smiled. So did she, their lips lifting together, seeking each other.

The room spun. A ride like no other. His stubble rasped her cheeks and chin. His
lips couldn’t have been softer or warmer. Better than what she’d experienced in
her dream.

He pulled her close and speared his tongue into her mouth.

Shelost her breath. This was past epic and straight into legendary. Even her
fantasies weren’t this good.

They kissed with abandon and stark need, each pressing nearer, trying to eliminate
any separation between them. His strength thrilled, showing her his power, yet
it also felt like a caress.

He growled and tore his mouth free.

“No.” She cupped his head to pull him back to her. “I’m not through.”

“Neither am I.” Holding on to her, he leaned forward, put his bottle on the table then
twisted around and pushed her to the sofa. The cushion whooshed from her weight. “Not a word, understand?”

Several locks had fallen over his forehead. His eyes were bright with lust. Face flushed. So gorgeous. “Yes, sir.”

He laughed and captured her mouth with desire, using it with skill. His kiss was savage and unrestrained, tongue burrowed deep, giving her no chance for words. Wild sounds poured from them, more animal than human. It fueled her lust.

Reason and good sense fled, replaced by carnal instinct feral in its intensity, nothing timid or gentle about the act.

They rocked and rolled deep kissing. The sofa jerked on the hardwood floor.

He broke free again.

He had to stop doing that. She grabbed his hair. “Come back here.”

He hauled her up then pushed to his feet.

She wrapped her legs around his lean hips, her arms about his shoulders.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He looked right, left.

“Behind you.”

He pivoted, carried her across the room, and halted. “Where’s Rápido?”

“By the chair. Give me a sec.” Using her power, she transported him to his tank. There he could take a soak or bask beneath his warming lamp. Turtle heaven. “What are you waiting for?” She squeezed Lucian’s shoulders. “Get going. I’m about to die.”

“And I’m not?” Huffing, he raced into her bedroom and brought her down to the mattress with him. Springs popped. The frame creaked.

Their mouths were welded together, their kiss long and lingering, deep and wet. The best kind.

He jerked free. “Wait.”

“No.” She kept kissing him.

He pulled away. “We have weapons.” He left the bed and put his Glock on the bureau.

She was right behind him and placed hers next to his.

Grinning, they tore at each other’s clothes. Shoes, pants, tops, and underwear flew.

This time, she pulled him onto the mattress.

 

TEASERS FOR YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE…

_______
EROTIC PARANOMAL
DECADENT – AMAZON

The Yearning

Book One The Wanderers

Erotic Paranormal 

 

To break this curse, they’ll have to turn the heat up. Way up.

Jasmine Dante prowls Key West’s nightlife, fighting a losing battle against a jealous rival’s curse that forces her to seek carnal pleasure, no matter the danger. Weakened from lack of sleep and driven by insatiable lust, she spots a man who stirs her desperate craving, and begins yet another dance of seduction.

Except the dark stranger who returns her direct stare is no ordinary lover. Inside his powerful body lies a raw sexuality that just might be enough to break her curse. There’s only one way to find out—imprison him in her bed and feed on his passion.

Former Deputy U.S. Marshal Mike Stearn is many things, but he’s no woman’s sex slave. The deadly telekinetic power he ruthlessly suppresses comes alive again at Jasmine’s touch. Beneath her bold, potent sensuality, he senses vulnerability and desperation. He may be in handcuffs, but she’s the one who’s enslaved.

As Mike resurrects his power to free himself so he can find the curse’s source and defeat it, Jasmine revels in his masterful rule. Her ravenous yearning evolves into rapture as she surrenders to his hunger, her darkest needs—and the emotional connection that lies beyond. Unless the curse takes her life first…

 
 
 

 

About Tina:

Tina’s an Amazon and international bestselling novelist who writes passionate romance for every taste – ‘heat with heart’ – for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. She’s won Readers’ Choice Awards, was named a finalist in the EPIC competition, received a Book of the Year award, The Golden Nib Award, awards of merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competitions, and second place in the NEC RWA contests. She’s featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.

On a less serious note: she’s an admitted and unrepentant chocoholic, brakes for Mexican restaurants, and has been known to moan like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally while wolfing down tostadas. She’s flown a single-engine airplane (freaking scary), rewired an old house using an ‘electricity for dummies’ book, and is horribly shy despite the hot romances she writes.

Website/Blog: http://tinadonahuebooks.blogspot.com/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/tina-donahue

MeWe: https://mewe.com/i/tinadonahue

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1wFmIu6

Twitter: https://twitter.com/tinadonahue

Amazon author page: http://amzn.to/1ChWFkO

My page at TRR: http://bit.ly/1vb7eEc

Kensington Author Page: http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/24772

Sweet ‘n Sexy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

 

In the Crosshairs: The Body on Leffis Key

PLEASE WELCOME MY GUEST M.S SPENCER!!

Someone is killing people with a crossbow, but what connects the murders is a mystery, and only a birder and the aide to a dead Senator can find the answers.

Intro

I grew up in the DC suburbs and came back as a young adult to work in the US Senate at a time of great upheaval (1980s). The Washington of my youth was genteel, southern, sleepy, and dull. Members of Congress spent most of their time in their districts. There were no restaurants to speak of—the only parties were at diplomats’ residences. There was a single theatre—the National. JFK allegedly quipped that Washington was a city of northern charm and southern efficiency.

By the 1980s it had changed dramatically (I won’t even talk about the depths it’s risen to today). Perhaps because of the advent of television, politics rather than diplomacy now rule the social life “inside-the-Beltway.” There are hundreds of expense-account restaurants and massive theatres. The celebrities aren’t ambassadors and foreign princes, but pundits, “influencers,” and Hollywoodites.

In the excerpt below the widow of a prominent US Senator confesses to an adulterous affair with a high-powered global investor. This is not uncommon, but in this case there’s murder involved.

OUR STORY:

Palmer Lind, recovering from the sudden death of her husband, embarks on a bird-watching trek to the Gulf Coast of Florida. One hot day on Leffis Key she comes upon—not the life bird she was hoping for—but a floating corpse. The handsome beach bum who appears on the scene at the same time seems to have even more secrets than the dead man.

His story begins to unravel as the pair search for answers to a growing pile of dead bodies. Spies, radical environmentalists, and wealthy businessmen circle around each other in a complex dance. Which one is lying? What do a seemingly random group of individuals have in common, other than being targeted by a crossbow?

In the Crosshairs: The Body on Leffis Key

The Wild Rose Press, May 27, 2024

Mystery, Suspense

89,710 words; 392 pp.

Excerpt: Joanna Confesses

Joanna whirled around and advanced toward Palmer, her cheeks flaming and her teeth bared.

Palmer fell back a step. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me, you…you floozy. Keep your smutty hands off Wilfred!”

Palmer was too astonished to respond, but the thought gamboled through her head that jealous rage was hardly a suitable look for a bereaved widow. She was weighing options for escape when Joanna toppled into a chair.

“Oh Miss Lind, I’m so sorry. You must think I’m a crazy person. My emotions are all over the place.” To prove it, she burst into tears.

Palmer gave her a box of tissues and went for a glass of water. When she returned, Joanna had regained her composure. “Thank you.” She sniffed. “I suppose I should explain my behavior.”

That would be nice. “If you like.”

“You see, Atticus and I had what you’d call a political marriage. We did love each other in the beginning, but after a few years, the unabating hostility from my relatives…” She broke off and sipped the water. “My family has lived in Mobile, Alabama, for over two hundred years. We’ve always been Democrats…well, for as long as there’s been a Democrat party, that is. Atticus was not only from the Midwest”—she said it with a moue of distaste—“but he was a Republican. Two colossal strikes against him in the view of my grandmother Rose, the matriarch of the clan. She turned everyone against him, shunned him. At least, until he was elected senator.” She gave a resentful snort. “Even then they barely acknowledged him at family gatherings. I got tired of defending him all the time, and we drifted apart, but the demands of the job meant we had to pretend we were the idyllic power couple.”

That’s how Carson described them. Palmer had trouble feeling sorry for her but could hardly interrupt the flow. “Go on.”

“Last year we were at Davos—that’s an annual economic forum in Switzerland. Everybody who’s anybody in the financial and political worlds goes. Atticus was giving an interview to Forbes, and I took to the slopes for an afternoon’s skiing.”

The lives of the rich and famous…

“I was on my last run and visibility was poor. I took a spill, and suddenly Wilfred appeared out of the gloom. He helped me up and escorted me back to the lodge. We had tea together and…and one thing led to another.” She raised damp eyes to Palmer. “Do you hate me?”

“Me? Why would I hate you? It’s nothing to do with me.”

“Even though I’m a rival for his affections?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“He came here to see you, didn’t he? Why would he do that unless he was attracted to you?” She produced a tiny hiccup. “He’s left me, you see.”

Buy Links:

In the Crosshairs: the Body on Leffis Key

Books2Read: https://books2read.com/IntheCrosshairs

Wild Rose Press: https://wildrosepress.com/product/in-the-crosshairs-the-body-on-leffis-key/

I Tunes: https://books.apple.com/us/book/in-the-crosshairs-the-body-on-leffis-key/id6479648097

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Crosshairs-Body-Leffis-Key-ebook/dp/B0CYHKJJ5C

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/in-the-crosshairs-m-s-spencer/1145026462?ean=2940185979617

About the Author:

Librarian, anthropologist, research assistant, Congressional aide, speechwriter, nonprofit director—M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents and holds degrees in Anthropology, Middle East Studies, and Library Science. She has published seventeen mystery or romantic suspense novels. She has two children, an exuberant granddaughter, and currently divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

Contacts:

Blog: https://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/msspencermysteries

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/msspencerauthor

GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/msspencer
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/msspencerauthor/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/m-s-spencer

Shepherd: https://shepherd.com/search/author/21204

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B002ZOEUC8

Never stop learning

PLEASE WELCOME MY GUEST LISABET SARAI!!!

Take it away, Lisabet!

My bio says that I’ve been writing all my life, and that’s pretty much true. I was penning stories and poems when I was in early elementary school. By high school I’d branched out to novels and plays. Though I’ve also done drawing and painting, sculpture and dance, words have always been my preferred instrument for creation. And to be honest, I grew up believing that I had significant writing talent.

The more I write, though, the more I realize how much I still have to learn.

Total-E-Bound, an English indie publisher focused on erotic romance, brought out the first edition of Getaway Girl way back in 2008. This was only my third or fourth tale written specifically for a romance audience. At that time, I knew almost nothing about the genre and its conventions. (Until I signed with TEB, I’d considered myself an author of erotica.) I spent quite a bit of time reading the work of my fellow TEB authors, trying to grasp the essence of this new category of fiction and to translate that into my own stories. My editors also did not hesitate to point out areas where common aspects of erotica just wouldn’t work for romance readers.

By 2008 I’d concluded that in every romance: 1) there had to be a sense of inevitability to the connection between the hero and heroine, an attraction that might seem to make no sense but which could not be denied; 2) the couple had to at least discuss commitment; 3) the sex (this was erotic romance after all) had to be more than just casual – there should be a sense of fitting or rightness, a connection that transcended the physical.

I tried to implement these conclusions in writing of Getaway Girl. The story was accepted and published, but was never particularly popular. I went on to write a lot more romance, getting better at it over time.

Last year I reclaimed the rights to the story so that I could self-publish it, and a few months ago I set myself the task of re-editing the piece in preparation. I really hadn’t looked at it for more than a decade.

I was appalled by how clumsy and stereotyped it seemed.

Inconsistencies in character and in plot were only part of the problem. There were also long passages of purple prose, most especially in the sex scenes. I posted the tale in my critique group and discovered there were also plentiful anachronisms and inaccuracies related to its historical period (contemporary) and British setting. (The story was originally targeted for an anthology entitled Bound Brits, so it had to take place in the U.K.)

I subjected the story to possibly the most thorough revision I’ve ever done on any of my work. I won’t say that it’s unrecognizable, but I probably modified at least 25% of the text. In the fourteen years since the first revision I’ve learned a lot, both about romance and about writing in general. Practice does make perfect; I’ve published nearly one hundred titles since that early attempt, both romance and erotica. This second edition of Getaway Girl is orders of magnitude better than the original.

But maybe I shouldn’t use the word “perfect”, because in truth, as long as we authors are writing, we are learning all the time. I’m about to revisit my first novel, preparing an expanded twenty-fifth anniversary edition for release sometime this year. This will be the fifth version of Raw Silk. I have no doubt it will be the best.

Our story:

Be careful what you wish for

All Peg wants is a break, a bit of adventure, a relief from her mundane existence in the bucolic but boring Yorkshire hamlet of Kirkby Malzeard. When dashing, sophisticated journalist Lionel Hayes saunters into the pub where she’s tending bar, Peg suspects that he was just the sort of man to fulfill her fantasies of escape.

The seductive Lionel, however, is not what he seems. Before she knows it, Peg is a hostage, roped and gagged, speeding away from the scene of a daring crime. Lionel is armed and dangerous, but somehow Peg still wants him – regardless of the consequences.

Note: This book was originally published in 2015 by Totally Bound. This second edition has been substantially revised and has a new ending.

EXCERPT:

“What are you doing here, if I might ask?”

“Me? Oh, I’m a journalist. I’m doing a story on the find and its historical implications.”

Peg felt a twinge of suspicion. “The press conference was yesterday.”

“My car broke down halfway from London. I spent last night in a town even tinier than this one.” His smile was charming, apologetic. Peg’s uneasiness melted away.

He leaned towards her across the bar, putting his hand over hers. “That’s why I appreciate your help, in giving me the information I need.”

His skin was warm and smooth, none of the calluses of a manual labourer. Not like the farmers Peg had occasionally dated here, before she gave up on finding a man in her home village. He ran one fingertip up and down in the sensitive crease between Peg’s thumb and forefinger. The light touch was enough to turn her nipples to aching knots and trigger a throbbing between her legs.

She caught a hint of his scent, a balsam-laced aftershave or cologne that simultaneously conveyed masculinity and refinement. His forefinger ventured higher, stroking the back of her wrist, a gesture both delicate and bold. Her pussy clenched as though he were massaging her down there, instead of merely brushing a casual finger across her hand.

She stared at the bar, blushing, angry with herself for being so susceptible. Finally, she managed to raise her head and meet his eyes, which were a stormy hazel colour.

“What paper are you from?”

“Oh, I write for an upmarket travel rag. I doubt that you would’ve heard of it. This story should enhance the romance and mystery of your already delightful village. I expect you’ll see a surge in tourists after publication.”

“You should interview Peter Lofthouse. He’s been mayor for the last dozen years.”

“I have the feeling that I’m talking to a real authority right now. Lived here a long time, haven’t you?”

She bristled. How did he know that? Maybe because she seemed such a country bumpkin. “I spent some time in London, but I had to come back. Family problems.”

“Sorry to hear that…” He scanned her chest, seeking a name tag. Peg felt as though he were fondling her breasts instead of just looking at them. Could he see the swollen tips, pushing up through her soft green jumper?

“I’m Peg,” she said, snatching her hand from his and reaching for the bar rag. “And you?”

He bowed slightly. “Lionel Hayes, at your service. But I’ll bet you’re really Margaret, right? It’s much more musical, more sophisticated. It suits you.”

He was clearly trying to flatter her. She didn’t really mind. “Lionel—sounds like an aristocratic playboy from the nineteen twenties. Nobody’s named Lionel anymore.”

The journalist laughed again, soft and intimate, sending the blood rushing again to Peg’s cheeks as well as to other body parts. He drained the last of his pint, then reclaimed her hand. “I’ve got to go. But it’s been pleasure to meet you, Margaret. Perhaps I’ll mention you in my article.”

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/1587-getaway-girl-/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D2WM4BXR

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0D2WM4BXR

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1557686

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/getaway-girl-lisabet-sarai/1103185498

Kobo  – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/getaway-girl-10

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6499560218

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/212364347-getaway-girl

Add on BookBub – https://www.bookbub.com/books/getaway-girl-by-lisabet-sarai-2024-05-03

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, LGBTQ, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh