Showing posts with label Totally Bound Publishing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Totally Bound Publishing. Show all posts
March 16, 2017
An Interesting Find by Lucy Felthouse-We could make it romantic #RomanceNovel #MM
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March 10, 2017
Unconventional by Lucy Felthouse-She's Straight-Laced, He's Not. But Their Attraction Is Undeniable #RomanceNovel #BDSM
Blurb:
Penny was caught out in the wrong place, at the wrong time. As a recently graduated law student, the brush with the law could put an end to her career before it’s even begun. But thanks to her lawyer daddy’s contacts, she’s been given a second chance. A chance to redeem herself and make her stupid behavior go away.
Which is how she ends up working in a soup kitchen, preparing and serving meals to those who are having a rough time of it. She’s not keen on the idea, and when she meets Maddox, the guy in charge, she’s even less keen. A tall, skinny, mad-haired, tattooed guy, Maddox is the sort of person Penny would normally cross the road to avoid. But once she gets to know him, she starts to see things differently. He’s had a checkered past himself, and has now put it behind him and enjoys a glittering, prosperous career as a top chef.
Maddox may have unconventional looks, but Penny quickly grows to like him, and, much to her surprise, finds herself attracted to him. He’s a lot older than her, and their lives are at completely different stages, but in spite of this, there’s an undeniable connection between them.
When Maddox makes Penny an unconventional offer, will she have the courage to take him up on it? And if she does, where will it lead?
*****
Excerpt:
From the very second I laid eyes on him, it was clear he was unconventional. If I’m being truthful, I thought he looked like a complete nutter—someone I’d probably cross the road to avoid. Even in the daytime. He was tall and skinny, with a shock of black hair—still apparent under his hairnet—and pale skin. Kind of like Edward Scissorhands. Only—mercifully—without the scissors for hands part. A vine-looking tattoo began at his left wrist, worked its way up his arm, then snaked beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt…to who knew where?
Oddly, even though I mentally kicked myself for thinking it, I found myself wanting to find out. Did it stop at his upper arm, his shoulder? Did it continue over his back, his chest, twine its way around a pectoral, sneaking in toward the nipple? Or even farther south, perhaps?
Even if you took Mr. Unusual out of the equation, there was nothing normal about the situation I found myself in. After all, what recent graduate of law school finds themselves volunteering in a soup kitchen? A recent graduate who lost her head—and heart—over a bad boy, that’s who.
Most people seem to think that those who study law are smart. Super smart, actually. There’s a reason for that—folks who study law are smart. If they pass all the exams, that is. And I did—with distinction. Which makes me clever on paper, I suppose, but apparently lacking in common sense, or perhaps I just have severely poor judgment. Or both.
However you want to look at it, I fucked up. Big time. I fell for the wrong guy, trusted him, and ended up caught up in something that got me arrested.
It could have been the end of my law career. Before it had even started, and after all those years of education—not to mention a rather large chunk of my parents’ cash. Fortunately, they’ve got plenty of it, due to my daddy’s successful career. He works in law, too, which, luckily for me, means he’s got friends in high places.
So it was less voluntary work, more community service. Otherwise known as do-this-or-you’ll-get-a-criminal-record-and-kiss-your-career-goodbye.
Fixing my potential glittering career in my mind, I took a deep breath and crossed the industrial-looking kitchen, heading toward him. He looked utterly at home chopping carrots—he was like one of those chefs you see on the telly, his hand and the knife he gripped moving so fast they were almost a blur. I cringed at the thought of trying such a thing. Never mind the end of my career, it’d be the end of my fingers.
Approaching cautiously—I didn’t want to startle him and cause a horrific accident—I waited until he’d finished his carrot before speaking. “Um, hi.”
Turning quickly, still with his knife in his hand, he smiled. “Ah, hello. You must be Penny.”
For a moment, I was so caught up in his eyes that I couldn’t reply. Fortunately, I managed to get a grip before I was the one who was a nutter. “Um, yes, that’s right. I’m here to help out.”
As though suddenly realizing he still held the knife, he glanced at it in his hand, then quickly put it down on the counter. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to greet you with a blade! I’m so used to using the things that it’s like they’re an extension of my arm.”
Hmm, so maybe he’s Edward Knifehands. I suppressed a shudder.
Those stunning eyes—such an unnatural yet beautiful blue—twinkling, he held out his now empty hand. “I’m Maddox Black. Pleased to meet you. And very pleased to have you here.”
We shook. As we did so, the heat that had sparked inside me when we’d made eye contact began to intensify.
Christ, no, Penny. You just ditched one bad boy. The last thing you need to do is swap him for another one.
--
Buy links:
Totally Bound Publishing: http://bit.ly/2l2XaJg
Amazon (universal link): http://mybook.to/LFunconventional
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2l8WiDy
Google Books: http://bit.ly/2l0b12S
iBooks: http://apple.co/2m8or1P
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2l0mGP1
Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33398214-unconventional
*****
Author Bio:
Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 publications to her name.
She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub.
You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9
Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.
November 25, 2016
The Eyes of Bast by Lisabet Sarai- She Vows To Save The Man Who Is Her Soulmate- #MF #Paranormal #Erotic #Romance #Shifter
Trust your heart. Follow your dreams.
Blurb
Shaina Williams' grandmother bequeathed her that wisdom, along with a old pendant from the Islands, carved from an ocelot's tooth. When instinct tells Shaina to visit the feral cat trap she'd set in Central Park, she listens to that inner voice, She discovers she's caged a magnificent black tom, but the cat inexplicably vanishes after she tends to his wounds. Seeking the errant feline, Shaina encounters instead a handsome stranger whose slightest touch sets her body on fire. As the day dawns after a night of ferocious passion, her mysterious lover is forced back into his true shape - the tomcat she'd rescued.
Born a cat, Tom was transformed into an unwilling shape shifter by a sorceress who craved a human plaything to satisfy her perverse lusts. Centuries old and irresistibly powerful, Delphine Montserrat will stop at nothing to find her runaway familiar. Shaina vows to do whatever is necessary to defeat the vicious but seductive witch and save the man she believes is her soul mate – even though it might mean losing him forever.
--
Excerpt
Tom finally broke the kiss and leaned back with a sigh. “Ah, Shaina! I should never have allowed you near me. But I was so very lonely... I wasn’t thinking straight. Now I’ve put you in danger too.”
“Danger? What kind of danger?” I reached over to flick the switch on my reading lamp, so I could read his expressions. Then I seated myself cross-legged at his feet and clasped his hands in mine. “Tell me, Tom. Tell me everything.”
“You will not believe me.”
“How could I not believe after – after what I saw this morning?”
His brows knotted together. “I never wanted you to see – I was careless...”
“But I did see. And now I know, at least something about you. But I don’t know enough to help you out of whatever trouble you’re in. Tell me the whole truth. I promise I’ll keep it private, if that’s what you want. And I promise I won’t be shocked.”
Tom’s lush mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust. “You might not be able to keep that promise. But never mind. You’ve asked. I’ll tell you.”
He stared off into the distance, above my head. “I was born in a small town in coastal Maine, about seven years ago.”
“Seven years...?”
“I was born a cat.”
I choked down my cry of surprise. How could it be...?
“Yes. I was born under a wharf. I spent the first six months of my life as a black kitten, a stray living off the scraps from the fishing boats and clam shacks. Then she caught me and made me her prisoner.”
“She?”
“I don’t even want to utter her name. There’s danger in the very word. She is a witch, centuries old, a practitioner of the darkest arts – the epitome of evil. Out walking one evening along the rocky shore, she caught sight of me and wanted me as her familiar. It was easy for her to lure me into her clutches.
“At first she just used me to facilitate her spells. The rumored powers of black cats are more than just legend. Before long, though, she began to experiment.”
His ominous tone sent a chill through my naked body. I pulled the towel around me.
“You see, her advanced age hadn’t diminished her lust. Quite the opposite. She wanted a sexual plaything, someone she could use to satisfy her perverted desires. A male body she could own and control. So she delved into her books of magic, seeking a spell that would turn her poor innocent feline familiar into a man – at least when she wanted him that way.
“Her first attempts failed.” Tom shuddered at the recollection. “She barely managed to save my life. I guess she’d grown fond of me at that point – in her own twisted way.”
“Oh, Tom...”
“Finally, she found a ritual that would change an animal into a human during the hours when the sun was banished from the earth. I’ll never forget the terror of that first transformation, when I found myself wobbling on two legs in front of her naked body. It was even worse than what came after.”
“What was that?”
“Oh, Shaina – I was human, but scarcely a man. I was barely thirteen.”
Adult Excerpt
It was near dawn when I woke again. In the pearl-gray light filtering through the blinds, my familiar furnishings were strange and ghostly, shrouded in shadow. Stretching, I realized I was no longer on the floor. My bed had been unfolded, and I lay stretched out on the sheets, nude. Alone.
Groggy with sleep, I raised myself on my elbows to scan the room. It appeared to be empty. “Tom?” I whispered. There was no answer. A sense of unreality seized me. Had I dreamed the entire scene – the handsome intruder, the overwhelmingly sensual kiss, the orgasm that had shot me straight into the stratosphere? I recalled my devastating arousal in the stranger’s presence. What was going on? Could I be suffering from some kind of hormonal imbalance? This seemed like something more than the normal horniness of a woman who’d been celibate for a while.
Thinking exhausted me. I sank back into my pillow, closing my eyes as if that might make my doubts and confusion vanish. Sleep, I told myself. I’ll figure things out in the morning. I was already drifting back into slumber when the sound of running water roused me.
I peered into the dimness. A tall, male form emerged from the bathroom. My heart did a somersault in my chest.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
His low, musical voice melted me. I propped myself up to a sitting position, heedless of my nakedness.
“You! You’re real...You’re still here?”
He’d discarded his clothing as well. In the half-light, I drank in the sight of his smooth, muscled limbs, becoming more intoxicated by the moment. He seated himself beside me and circled me with his arms. Heat radiated from his dark skin.
“Why would I leave, my beautiful one?” he murmured in my ear. Bending a bit, he flicked his tongue across one of my nipples. Lightning tore through me. “There are still a few hours left to the night.”
Before I could reply, he’d fastened his luscious mouth on mine. His firm lips coaxed rather than demanded a response, one I was only too willing to give. I opened to the prodding of his rough tongue, letting him taste me, savoring his wild, sweet flavor in return.
Once again a sort of delirium swept over me. It seemed we were back in the park, sheltered by trees more than a century old. My nostrils filled with the perfume of dew-soaked grass and damp earth, laced with a hint of animal musk. I felt light as dandelion down, drifting in the night wind. Only his strong grip kept me grounded. The moon rode above the clouds, invisible but palpable, stirring tides in my flesh. Desire ebbed then surged, cresting higher with each cycle.
His hands molded my breasts like moist clay. Blind with need, I groped along his furred chest and taut belly, down to his gloriously erect cock. When I squeezed, he moaned into my mouth and bit the corner of my lip. The iron-tinged flavor of my own blood simply added to the stew of sensation.
I smeared my thumb over the slippery bulb. His answer was a savage twist to an already aching nipple. Moisture gushed from my pussy. I tumbled backward, dragging him down on top of me.
“Shaina...” he murmured, breaking the kiss to lick his way along my throat. His saliva felt like liquid fire. He nuzzled in the hollow of my cleavage, then captured one breast and began to suckle. Electric pleasure arced through me when his hardness brushed my inner thigh. I squirmed beneath him, trying to align his cock with my hungry cleft.
“Please....” There was no need for me to say more. The stranger rose above me, supporting himself on his powerful arms. His eyes gleamed like phosphorescent jewels in the grayness. He smiled down at me, baring those sharp, white teeth that had already drawn my blood. An almost inhuman glee painted his features.
He hovered at my entrance, his rigid flesh teasing my engorged clit. I spread my thighs wide. Without a word, he sank his cock deep into my drenched pussy.
--
Buy Links
Totally Bound: https://www.totallybound.com/the-eyes-of-bast
All Romance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-theeyesofbast-1789859-140.html
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Eyes-Bast-Lisabet-Sarai-ebook/dp/B00WMEW5K0/
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Eyes-Bast-Lisabet-Sarai-ebook/dp/B00WMEW5K0/
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-eyes-of-bast-lisabet-sarai/1121761796?ean=9781784305079
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-eyes-of-bast
Add on GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25153711-the-eyes-of-bast
--
About the Author
When I was a little girl, my dad would make up stories for my siblings and me, fabulous sagas about ghosts and monsters, magical races with mysterious powers, heroes on impossible quests, hidden treasures awaiting only the most courageous seeker. I blame him for my lifelong fascination with the magical and miraculous.
Now that I'm grown up, I create my own tales of wonder, weaving in generous portions of human desire with its potent enchantments. In my paranormal tales, love works the most powerful magick.
--
Find out more about me and my books:
At my website, Lisabet's Fantasy Factory (http://www.lisabetsarai.com)
And my blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).
I also hang out on Goodreads (http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai),
Amazon (https://www.amazon.com/author/lisabetsarai), and
Twitter (https://www.twitter.com/lisabetsarai).
I also have a VIP readers email list where I share release and contest information and run exclusive monthly giveaways. To join, just email me: lisabet [at] lisabetsarai [dot] com.
Serial Love
The Eyes of Bast was an experiment. I created the novella as a serial, writing and posting a chapter each month as part of my regular website update. I've never tried this approach before. Although I'm usually more of a plotter than a pantster, I had very little idea about what would happen next. Each month, I'd reread the previous installment, to help me maintain continuity, and then I'd just sit down and write whatever came to mind.
The process was remarkably liberating. I could set my imagination free.
The bulk of what I write is targeted for a particular publisher and often, a specific call for submissions. I usually have a predefined theme and both a minimum and maximum word count. These constraints shape my creative process. My internal editor is constantly active. Would the publisher object to this language? Was I taking too long to get to the clinch? Was my take on the theme close enough to satisfy the requirements?
With The Eyes of Bast, I was writing for my own pleasure – and of course that of my readers. The story could be as long (or short) as it needed to be. I could write sweet or raunchy, depending on my mood. I could introduce plot twists as they occurred to me, without worrying too much about plausibility.
I was writing purely for the fun of it. What a novel concept!
I'm actually pretty pleased with the way the tale turned out. I especially like the dramatic ending, which borrows a bit from horror tales. And I'm delighted by the depths my villain ultimately revealed. I have a problem writing bad guys (or in this case, bad girls). Delphine Montserrat is one of my better evil-doers.
I hope my readers agree.
--
Blurb
Shaina Williams' grandmother bequeathed her that wisdom, along with a old pendant from the Islands, carved from an ocelot's tooth. When instinct tells Shaina to visit the feral cat trap she'd set in Central Park, she listens to that inner voice, She discovers she's caged a magnificent black tom, but the cat inexplicably vanishes after she tends to his wounds. Seeking the errant feline, Shaina encounters instead a handsome stranger whose slightest touch sets her body on fire. As the day dawns after a night of ferocious passion, her mysterious lover is forced back into his true shape - the tomcat she'd rescued.
Born a cat, Tom was transformed into an unwilling shape shifter by a sorceress who craved a human plaything to satisfy her perverse lusts. Centuries old and irresistibly powerful, Delphine Montserrat will stop at nothing to find her runaway familiar. Shaina vows to do whatever is necessary to defeat the vicious but seductive witch and save the man she believes is her soul mate – even though it might mean losing him forever.
--
Excerpt
Tom finally broke the kiss and leaned back with a sigh. “Ah, Shaina! I should never have allowed you near me. But I was so very lonely... I wasn’t thinking straight. Now I’ve put you in danger too.”
“Danger? What kind of danger?” I reached over to flick the switch on my reading lamp, so I could read his expressions. Then I seated myself cross-legged at his feet and clasped his hands in mine. “Tell me, Tom. Tell me everything.”
“You will not believe me.”
“How could I not believe after – after what I saw this morning?”
His brows knotted together. “I never wanted you to see – I was careless...”
“But I did see. And now I know, at least something about you. But I don’t know enough to help you out of whatever trouble you’re in. Tell me the whole truth. I promise I’ll keep it private, if that’s what you want. And I promise I won’t be shocked.”
Tom’s lush mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust. “You might not be able to keep that promise. But never mind. You’ve asked. I’ll tell you.”
He stared off into the distance, above my head. “I was born in a small town in coastal Maine, about seven years ago.”
“Seven years...?”
“I was born a cat.”
I choked down my cry of surprise. How could it be...?
“Yes. I was born under a wharf. I spent the first six months of my life as a black kitten, a stray living off the scraps from the fishing boats and clam shacks. Then she caught me and made me her prisoner.”
“She?”
“I don’t even want to utter her name. There’s danger in the very word. She is a witch, centuries old, a practitioner of the darkest arts – the epitome of evil. Out walking one evening along the rocky shore, she caught sight of me and wanted me as her familiar. It was easy for her to lure me into her clutches.
“At first she just used me to facilitate her spells. The rumored powers of black cats are more than just legend. Before long, though, she began to experiment.”
His ominous tone sent a chill through my naked body. I pulled the towel around me.
“You see, her advanced age hadn’t diminished her lust. Quite the opposite. She wanted a sexual plaything, someone she could use to satisfy her perverted desires. A male body she could own and control. So she delved into her books of magic, seeking a spell that would turn her poor innocent feline familiar into a man – at least when she wanted him that way.
“Her first attempts failed.” Tom shuddered at the recollection. “She barely managed to save my life. I guess she’d grown fond of me at that point – in her own twisted way.”
“Oh, Tom...”
“Finally, she found a ritual that would change an animal into a human during the hours when the sun was banished from the earth. I’ll never forget the terror of that first transformation, when I found myself wobbling on two legs in front of her naked body. It was even worse than what came after.”
“What was that?”
“Oh, Shaina – I was human, but scarcely a man. I was barely thirteen.”
Adult Excerpt
It was near dawn when I woke again. In the pearl-gray light filtering through the blinds, my familiar furnishings were strange and ghostly, shrouded in shadow. Stretching, I realized I was no longer on the floor. My bed had been unfolded, and I lay stretched out on the sheets, nude. Alone.
Groggy with sleep, I raised myself on my elbows to scan the room. It appeared to be empty. “Tom?” I whispered. There was no answer. A sense of unreality seized me. Had I dreamed the entire scene – the handsome intruder, the overwhelmingly sensual kiss, the orgasm that had shot me straight into the stratosphere? I recalled my devastating arousal in the stranger’s presence. What was going on? Could I be suffering from some kind of hormonal imbalance? This seemed like something more than the normal horniness of a woman who’d been celibate for a while.
Thinking exhausted me. I sank back into my pillow, closing my eyes as if that might make my doubts and confusion vanish. Sleep, I told myself. I’ll figure things out in the morning. I was already drifting back into slumber when the sound of running water roused me.
I peered into the dimness. A tall, male form emerged from the bathroom. My heart did a somersault in my chest.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
His low, musical voice melted me. I propped myself up to a sitting position, heedless of my nakedness.
“You! You’re real...You’re still here?”
He’d discarded his clothing as well. In the half-light, I drank in the sight of his smooth, muscled limbs, becoming more intoxicated by the moment. He seated himself beside me and circled me with his arms. Heat radiated from his dark skin.
“Why would I leave, my beautiful one?” he murmured in my ear. Bending a bit, he flicked his tongue across one of my nipples. Lightning tore through me. “There are still a few hours left to the night.”
Before I could reply, he’d fastened his luscious mouth on mine. His firm lips coaxed rather than demanded a response, one I was only too willing to give. I opened to the prodding of his rough tongue, letting him taste me, savoring his wild, sweet flavor in return.
Once again a sort of delirium swept over me. It seemed we were back in the park, sheltered by trees more than a century old. My nostrils filled with the perfume of dew-soaked grass and damp earth, laced with a hint of animal musk. I felt light as dandelion down, drifting in the night wind. Only his strong grip kept me grounded. The moon rode above the clouds, invisible but palpable, stirring tides in my flesh. Desire ebbed then surged, cresting higher with each cycle.
His hands molded my breasts like moist clay. Blind with need, I groped along his furred chest and taut belly, down to his gloriously erect cock. When I squeezed, he moaned into my mouth and bit the corner of my lip. The iron-tinged flavor of my own blood simply added to the stew of sensation.
I smeared my thumb over the slippery bulb. His answer was a savage twist to an already aching nipple. Moisture gushed from my pussy. I tumbled backward, dragging him down on top of me.
“Shaina...” he murmured, breaking the kiss to lick his way along my throat. His saliva felt like liquid fire. He nuzzled in the hollow of my cleavage, then captured one breast and began to suckle. Electric pleasure arced through me when his hardness brushed my inner thigh. I squirmed beneath him, trying to align his cock with my hungry cleft.
“Please....” There was no need for me to say more. The stranger rose above me, supporting himself on his powerful arms. His eyes gleamed like phosphorescent jewels in the grayness. He smiled down at me, baring those sharp, white teeth that had already drawn my blood. An almost inhuman glee painted his features.
He hovered at my entrance, his rigid flesh teasing my engorged clit. I spread my thighs wide. Without a word, he sank his cock deep into my drenched pussy.
--
Buy Links
Totally Bound: https://www.totallybound.com/the-eyes-of-bast
All Romance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-theeyesofbast-1789859-140.html
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Eyes-Bast-Lisabet-Sarai-ebook/dp/B00WMEW5K0/
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Eyes-Bast-Lisabet-Sarai-ebook/dp/B00WMEW5K0/
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-eyes-of-bast-lisabet-sarai/1121761796?ean=9781784305079
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-eyes-of-bast
Add on GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25153711-the-eyes-of-bast
--
About the Author
When I was a little girl, my dad would make up stories for my siblings and me, fabulous sagas about ghosts and monsters, magical races with mysterious powers, heroes on impossible quests, hidden treasures awaiting only the most courageous seeker. I blame him for my lifelong fascination with the magical and miraculous.
Now that I'm grown up, I create my own tales of wonder, weaving in generous portions of human desire with its potent enchantments. In my paranormal tales, love works the most powerful magick.
--
Find out more about me and my books:
At my website, Lisabet's Fantasy Factory (http://www.lisabetsarai.com)
And my blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).
I also hang out on Goodreads (http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai),
Amazon (https://www.amazon.com/author/lisabetsarai), and
Twitter (https://www.twitter.com/lisabetsarai).
I also have a VIP readers email list where I share release and contest information and run exclusive monthly giveaways. To join, just email me: lisabet [at] lisabetsarai [dot] com.
November 21, 2016
Incognito By Lisabet Sarai- Shy and Studious By Day And Insatiable By Night- #BDSM #MF #Contemporary #Erotica
New, expanded edition!
My publisher has slapped a paragraph-long reader’s advisory on my new release, Incognito. Personally, I don’t like the prissy tone of their notice. On the other hand, I don’t want to offend any readers who pick up the book without a clear understanding that it contains taboo content.
And I’m willing to admit, some people might be shocked. The book is not for the faint of heart. Both Miranda and Mark are polymorphously perverse characters, attracted to both their own and the opposite sex. They’re natural switches, drawn to roles on both sides of the BDSM power equation. The book includes pretty much every variety of sexual encounter, from age play to cross-dressing. I’m sure that some readers would dismiss the book as nothing but gratuitous sex.
That’s not how I see it, though. Incognito is, first and foremost, the story of one woman’s journey to realize and express her sexuality. Miranda’s heart-crushing initiation into sex leaves her emotionally scarred, unable to reconcile the experiences of love and lust. She’s ultimately healed by her relationship with Mark, a man who’s open and accepting of all her desires.
Blurb
Betrayed and abandoned by her first lover, shy and studious Miranda Cahill freezes in response to any sexual attention from someone she knows and likes.
During the day, she works diligently on her doctoral thesis. At night, though, she finds herself drawn into increasingly extreme sexual encounters with strangers. Her anonymous secret life begins to take over when she discovers that the masked seducer she meets in a sex club and the charismatic young professor courting her are the same man.
--
Reader Advisory: This book contains mention of incest involving an aunt and nephew and also scenes of incest involving a pair of M/F cousins. There is both M/M and F/F content within this book, as well as public sex, ménage et trois, swapping of partners, use of foreign objects during sex, anal sex and a scene of dubious consent.
--
Story Excerpt
Miranda tried to act normal as she walked through the Literature Department corridors the next morning. Excitement about her secret find hummed beneath the surface, though. Her step was light and she could not help smiling at everyone she encountered on her way to the student lounge.
Passing a classroom, she glanced through the glass-paned door and saw Mark Anderson in front of two dozen students. She stopped to watch him. Although she could not hear his lecture, his face was animated. He smiled often, laughed occasionally, gave his students complete attention when they spoke. Pacing from one side of the room to the other like an actor on a stage, he moved with lithe grace. He used his hands, gesturing expansively one moment, clenching his fists dramatically the next. Occasionally he ran his fingers through his tousled brown locks, sweeping them back off his forehead.
Miranda found herself transfixed. His performance ran the gamut from the melodramatic to the comic. Just like Dickens, she thought. There was an ache in her chest as she realized how attractive he was, how accessible he seemed. Not at all like the arrogant, mocking gentleman in her dream.
He was totally focused on his class, but suddenly he looked over at the door. Did he recognize her standing on the other side of the glass? She felt the intensity of his gaze, and it seemed that their eyes locked for a long moment. Miranda was embarrassed, as if she had been discovered engaging in some forbidden act. Blushing, she hastened away.
Mark found her fifteen minutes later in the lounge, drinking a cup of coffee, skimming a Xeroxed manuscript and trying to calm the silly beating of her heart. “Miranda!” Pouring himself some coffee, he sat down next to her. “What did you think of my first lecture?”
His manner was so warm, she couldn’t help answering his warm smile. “Actually, through the glass I couldn’t hear anything you were saying. I was just admiring how much you were able to communicate with body language.”
“Ah, yes, the fruit of my years in amateur dramatics. You might not realize that you are looking at the favorite leading man of the Kenosha Community Theatre. Why, everyone in southern Wisconsin had heard of Mark Anderson!”
“You’re from Wisconsin?”
“Alas, yes, but I’ve been trying to remedy that failing. Graduate school in San Francisco and London. Six months working on my dissertation on a remote island in Nova Scotia. Six months ‘sabbatical’ in Thailand. And now lovely Boston, which I am enjoying more every day.”
Miranda somehow got the notion that this comment had a personal dimension. She ignored the discomfort associated with that thought and forced herself to continue with the conversation.
“Where are you living? Have you found a decent apartment?”
“Actually, I’ve got a great place, on Pearl Street.”
“In Chinatown?”
“Exactly. On the third floor, above the Jade Garden Restaurant. It’s an old building, with tall windows and wooden floors. I look out on an alley, so it is relatively quiet. The only problem is, with the cooking smells that filter up from below, I’m always hungry!”
They both laughed, and Miranda felt marginally more relaxed.
“What about you, Miranda? Where are you from?”
“Born and bred in Cambridge. Spent my childhood playing in Harvard Yard.”
“Miranda Cahill—you’re not related to Herman Cahill, the Shakespearean scholar?”
“My father. He’s retired now, living in Florida. Obviously, I couldn’t do my graduate work anywhere but here, in his department.” Miranda sighed. “All the expectations are a bit of a burden. No one mentions it, but everyone knows that I’m his daughter.”
“I’ll bet you were named after the character in The Tempest,” said Mark with a laugh.
“His favorite play,” nodded Miranda. “It is a good thing that I wasn’t a boy, or he might have named me Prospero!”
“So, what does your father think about your unconventional thesis?”
“He refuses to comment. He can be something of a curmudgeon sometimes. In fact, I think he finds it embarrassing, but titillating.”
“Well, I can understand his perspective.” There was an awkward moment of silence. Miranda stared at the bottom of her coffee mug. Mark finally spoke.
“Look, I’ve got to run. I have a student conference in five minutes. But I’d love to talk some more. Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?”
Miranda hesitated, nervous all over again.
“I’m as good a cook as I am an actor, if I do say so. Do you like spicy food?”
“Definitely.”
“Then I’ll cook Thai. Please, don’t disappoint me, Miranda.”
He looked so earnest, so open, and so darned attractive, Miranda could not say no. “What time?” she asked.
“How about eight? It’s 17 Pearl Street, apartment 3B.”
“Can I bring something?”
“Just your lovely self,” said Mark. Then he noticed her blush, and made his tone more matter-of-fact. “You could bring a bottle of wine, if you felt like it. Red.”
Miranda smiled, sensing that he understood her ambivalence. “I have a bottle of Côtes de Rhone that my father sent for my birthday. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”
“Seems very appropriate.” Mark glanced at his watch. “I really have to go, but I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“See you tonight,” said Miranda. Then she sat by herself for another ten minutes, waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal.
--
Adult Excerpt
Miranda sank back into her seat and stared at the empty rows of chairs, overwhelmed by the events of the last half hour. Her success on the panel filled her with warm pride. Finally, people would begin to take her work seriously. Then there was Lucinda Scott. Publish the diary, disguised as fiction? How tempting! Here was a strategy that would preserve Beatrice’s privacy while still sharing her insights and adventures with the world. Of course, the diary was too short for a novel. Perhaps, though, Miranda could write some additional chapters. She was confident that she could emulate the rhythm of Beatrice’s prose, and Mark did say that she had a remarkable erotic imagination.
Mark! Where was he, anyway? When last she had looked, he had been at the back of the room, but everyone was gone now. She was suddenly hollow and aching with longing for her lover.
As if in answer to her questing mind, she felt a touch on the inside of her thigh. Mark? She had the urge to look under the tablecloth, to confirm that it was he, but something held her back. A finger alternated, stroking her nylon-clad thigh, then brushing the bare skin above her stocking. The contrast was exquisite, the results electric. The finger-dance along her thighs continued. Now another hand drifted lightly over her mound, tickling her through the satin. She felt brief regret as her juices thoroughly soaked the expensive wisp of lingerie, before lust overwhelmed all other concerns.
Slumped in her chair, she spread her thighs, shamelessly offering access to her hidden partner. He responded by tracing the outline of her pubis with his fingers, along the edges of the thong where fabric met flesh. Miranda writhed. She wanted him to touch her inside the garment, to rip it off and plunge his digits into her. Still, he played with her, rubbing the slippery fabric against her clit, forcing the damp cloth up between her legs, wedging the thong into the crevice between her cheeks and rocking it back and forth over her anus.
Now she felt moist heat, delicious, melting her. His mouth hovered over her sex and he simply breathed. His hands were quiet, holding her thighs wide. There was only his mouth, his breath, and the images unrolling in her mind. She felt as though he were holding a burning candle to her clit. She saw herself staked spread-eagle on a crag, her privates baked by a tropical sun. She felt herself bathed in molten gold that pouring over her folds, filling her, gilding her. The heat swelled until she erupted against his lips, juices like lava overflowing her cavities. She whimpered as her climax seared her. Hot tongues of pleasure lapped at her satin-sheathed pussy. Flames flickered on her closed eyelids.
Dimly, she felt her garters being unhooked and her soaking panties removed. Strong arms lifted her. She felt starched linen against her buttocks. She was seated on the table. Opening her eyes at last, she found Mark standing between her legs, unzipping his fly.
Not for the Faint of Heart
And I’m willing to admit, some people might be shocked. The book is not for the faint of heart. Both Miranda and Mark are polymorphously perverse characters, attracted to both their own and the opposite sex. They’re natural switches, drawn to roles on both sides of the BDSM power equation. The book includes pretty much every variety of sexual encounter, from age play to cross-dressing. I’m sure that some readers would dismiss the book as nothing but gratuitous sex.
That’s not how I see it, though. Incognito is, first and foremost, the story of one woman’s journey to realize and express her sexuality. Miranda’s heart-crushing initiation into sex leaves her emotionally scarred, unable to reconcile the experiences of love and lust. She’s ultimately healed by her relationship with Mark, a man who’s open and accepting of all her desires.
Blurb
Betrayed and abandoned by her first lover, shy and studious Miranda Cahill freezes in response to any sexual attention from someone she knows and likes.
During the day, she works diligently on her doctoral thesis. At night, though, she finds herself drawn into increasingly extreme sexual encounters with strangers. Her anonymous secret life begins to take over when she discovers that the masked seducer she meets in a sex club and the charismatic young professor courting her are the same man.
--
Reader Advisory: This book contains mention of incest involving an aunt and nephew and also scenes of incest involving a pair of M/F cousins. There is both M/M and F/F content within this book, as well as public sex, ménage et trois, swapping of partners, use of foreign objects during sex, anal sex and a scene of dubious consent.
--
Story Excerpt
Miranda tried to act normal as she walked through the Literature Department corridors the next morning. Excitement about her secret find hummed beneath the surface, though. Her step was light and she could not help smiling at everyone she encountered on her way to the student lounge.
Passing a classroom, she glanced through the glass-paned door and saw Mark Anderson in front of two dozen students. She stopped to watch him. Although she could not hear his lecture, his face was animated. He smiled often, laughed occasionally, gave his students complete attention when they spoke. Pacing from one side of the room to the other like an actor on a stage, he moved with lithe grace. He used his hands, gesturing expansively one moment, clenching his fists dramatically the next. Occasionally he ran his fingers through his tousled brown locks, sweeping them back off his forehead.
Miranda found herself transfixed. His performance ran the gamut from the melodramatic to the comic. Just like Dickens, she thought. There was an ache in her chest as she realized how attractive he was, how accessible he seemed. Not at all like the arrogant, mocking gentleman in her dream.
He was totally focused on his class, but suddenly he looked over at the door. Did he recognize her standing on the other side of the glass? She felt the intensity of his gaze, and it seemed that their eyes locked for a long moment. Miranda was embarrassed, as if she had been discovered engaging in some forbidden act. Blushing, she hastened away.
Mark found her fifteen minutes later in the lounge, drinking a cup of coffee, skimming a Xeroxed manuscript and trying to calm the silly beating of her heart. “Miranda!” Pouring himself some coffee, he sat down next to her. “What did you think of my first lecture?”
His manner was so warm, she couldn’t help answering his warm smile. “Actually, through the glass I couldn’t hear anything you were saying. I was just admiring how much you were able to communicate with body language.”
“Ah, yes, the fruit of my years in amateur dramatics. You might not realize that you are looking at the favorite leading man of the Kenosha Community Theatre. Why, everyone in southern Wisconsin had heard of Mark Anderson!”
“You’re from Wisconsin?”
“Alas, yes, but I’ve been trying to remedy that failing. Graduate school in San Francisco and London. Six months working on my dissertation on a remote island in Nova Scotia. Six months ‘sabbatical’ in Thailand. And now lovely Boston, which I am enjoying more every day.”
Miranda somehow got the notion that this comment had a personal dimension. She ignored the discomfort associated with that thought and forced herself to continue with the conversation.
“Where are you living? Have you found a decent apartment?”
“Actually, I’ve got a great place, on Pearl Street.”
“In Chinatown?”
“Exactly. On the third floor, above the Jade Garden Restaurant. It’s an old building, with tall windows and wooden floors. I look out on an alley, so it is relatively quiet. The only problem is, with the cooking smells that filter up from below, I’m always hungry!”
They both laughed, and Miranda felt marginally more relaxed.
“What about you, Miranda? Where are you from?”
“Born and bred in Cambridge. Spent my childhood playing in Harvard Yard.”
“Miranda Cahill—you’re not related to Herman Cahill, the Shakespearean scholar?”
“My father. He’s retired now, living in Florida. Obviously, I couldn’t do my graduate work anywhere but here, in his department.” Miranda sighed. “All the expectations are a bit of a burden. No one mentions it, but everyone knows that I’m his daughter.”
“I’ll bet you were named after the character in The Tempest,” said Mark with a laugh.
“His favorite play,” nodded Miranda. “It is a good thing that I wasn’t a boy, or he might have named me Prospero!”
“So, what does your father think about your unconventional thesis?”
“He refuses to comment. He can be something of a curmudgeon sometimes. In fact, I think he finds it embarrassing, but titillating.”
“Well, I can understand his perspective.” There was an awkward moment of silence. Miranda stared at the bottom of her coffee mug. Mark finally spoke.
“Look, I’ve got to run. I have a student conference in five minutes. But I’d love to talk some more. Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?”
Miranda hesitated, nervous all over again.
“I’m as good a cook as I am an actor, if I do say so. Do you like spicy food?”
“Definitely.”
“Then I’ll cook Thai. Please, don’t disappoint me, Miranda.”
He looked so earnest, so open, and so darned attractive, Miranda could not say no. “What time?” she asked.
“How about eight? It’s 17 Pearl Street, apartment 3B.”
“Can I bring something?”
“Just your lovely self,” said Mark. Then he noticed her blush, and made his tone more matter-of-fact. “You could bring a bottle of wine, if you felt like it. Red.”
Miranda smiled, sensing that he understood her ambivalence. “I have a bottle of Côtes de Rhone that my father sent for my birthday. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”
“Seems very appropriate.” Mark glanced at his watch. “I really have to go, but I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“See you tonight,” said Miranda. Then she sat by herself for another ten minutes, waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal.
--
Adult Excerpt
Miranda sank back into her seat and stared at the empty rows of chairs, overwhelmed by the events of the last half hour. Her success on the panel filled her with warm pride. Finally, people would begin to take her work seriously. Then there was Lucinda Scott. Publish the diary, disguised as fiction? How tempting! Here was a strategy that would preserve Beatrice’s privacy while still sharing her insights and adventures with the world. Of course, the diary was too short for a novel. Perhaps, though, Miranda could write some additional chapters. She was confident that she could emulate the rhythm of Beatrice’s prose, and Mark did say that she had a remarkable erotic imagination.
Mark! Where was he, anyway? When last she had looked, he had been at the back of the room, but everyone was gone now. She was suddenly hollow and aching with longing for her lover.
As if in answer to her questing mind, she felt a touch on the inside of her thigh. Mark? She had the urge to look under the tablecloth, to confirm that it was he, but something held her back. A finger alternated, stroking her nylon-clad thigh, then brushing the bare skin above her stocking. The contrast was exquisite, the results electric. The finger-dance along her thighs continued. Now another hand drifted lightly over her mound, tickling her through the satin. She felt brief regret as her juices thoroughly soaked the expensive wisp of lingerie, before lust overwhelmed all other concerns.
Slumped in her chair, she spread her thighs, shamelessly offering access to her hidden partner. He responded by tracing the outline of her pubis with his fingers, along the edges of the thong where fabric met flesh. Miranda writhed. She wanted him to touch her inside the garment, to rip it off and plunge his digits into her. Still, he played with her, rubbing the slippery fabric against her clit, forcing the damp cloth up between her legs, wedging the thong into the crevice between her cheeks and rocking it back and forth over her anus.
Now she felt moist heat, delicious, melting her. His mouth hovered over her sex and he simply breathed. His hands were quiet, holding her thighs wide. There was only his mouth, his breath, and the images unrolling in her mind. She felt as though he were holding a burning candle to her clit. She saw herself staked spread-eagle on a crag, her privates baked by a tropical sun. She felt herself bathed in molten gold that pouring over her folds, filling her, gilding her. The heat swelled until she erupted against his lips, juices like lava overflowing her cavities. She whimpered as her climax seared her. Hot tongues of pleasure lapped at her satin-sheathed pussy. Flames flickered on her closed eyelids.
Dimly, she felt her garters being unhooked and her soaking panties removed. Strong arms lifted her. She felt starched linen against her buttocks. She was seated on the table. Opening her eyes at last, she found Mark standing between her legs, unzipping his fly.
--
Buy Links (Ebook and Print)
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Barnes & Noble
Totally Bound
All Romance
An All Romance Best Seller!
Goodreads
--
About Lisabet
LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.
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 and finally, on Twitter.
--
Review Quotes
“Incognito brings a fabulous level of intensity and sensuality to the reader.”
~ Dawnie, Fallen Angels Reviews (5 Angels)
“I had almost given up on the current crop of erotic novels, because too many of them have predictable story lines, two dimensional characters and flimsy plotting. However, Incognito is really something different. Sarai skillfully combines the present day storyline with some tantalizing Victorian history. This book is well researched, erudite, well plotted and very sexy. Highly recommended.”
~ Emma K., Amazon (5 stars)
"Incognito is truly a buffet of pleasures, with something for everyone. There's the enjoyment of piecing together the mirroring, multi-layered narratives. Historical and literary echoes provide extra spice for the careful reader—in particular Shakespeare fans might enjoy the parallels to Miranda in The Tempest—all sweetened with abundant humor and clever feminist twists. Always you'll find masterful prose in sizzling erotic scenes that offer flavors to please any palate. And last but not least, the novel will change your view of the world in surprising ways."
~Donna George Story, Erotica Readers and Writers Association.
--
November 15, 2016
Raw Silk By Lisabet Sarai- Three lovers, Which One Will She Choose?- MFMM, #BDSM, #Contemporary, #Erotic, #Romance
Raw Silk by Lisabet Sarai- New, expanded edition!
A Deeper Need
Erotic romance (including the all-too-famous trilogy) sometimes treats BDSM rather superficially. As I see it, BDSM is not about doing things: spanking, whipping, bondage, forced exhibitionism, or whatever. Power exchange is more a state of being, an ongoing psychic connection between the top and bottom which amplifies sensation and emotion regardless of who is doing what to whom.
I know there are some subs who seek pain for its own sake, but I have a deeper need: the need to totally surrender to a powerful other, to trust him (or her) not just with my body but with my spirit. For me, BDSM is transformational and healing, more about devotion and respect, honesty and intimacy, than about pain or even pleasure. Meanwhile, in order to feel whole, a true dominant requires the sub's willing acquiescence to being controlled and used. Complementary needs, complementary fantasies—like pieces of a puzzle, each partner in the power exchange completes the other.
My novel Raw Silk explores this view of D/s—as do the many BDSM stories I’ve penned since that book. If you’re tired of stories that get hung up in the Red Room without taking you into the characters’ hearts, check out the newly expanded edition of Raw Silk.
Blurb
When software engineer Kate O’Neill leaves her lover David to take a job in Thailand, she becomes sexually involved with two very different men—a handsome and debauched member of the Thai aristocracy, and the charismatic proprietor of a sex bar.
Each touches her in a different way, each teaches her different things about her body and her heart.
Then David comes to Bangkok, and Kate realizes that, finally, she must choose one of the three men who all desire her.
--
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of M/M and F/F sex, sex with multiple partners, scenes of mixed ménage, scenes of dubious consent and forced cunnilingus, voyeurism, exhibitionism, sex in public places, pegging as well as the use of inanimate objects during sex scenes.
--
Story Excerpt
Gregory turned to Noi. “Help her get ready. I promised her that no one would know who she was.”
“Kate, put yourself in Noi’s hands. She’s an expert.” He bent down to whisper in her ear. “Remember, I will be watching.” She felt a hard pinch on her bottom. “Break a leg,” he said in a jocular tone, then was gone.
Noi took Kate by the hand. “Sit here,” she ordered, “and take off your shirt.” Kate stripped off the T-shirt. She was bare-breasted beneath, but the women around her did not give her a second glance. She sat at the dressing table that Noi indicated, looking at herself in the mirror.
She was flushed. Her green eyes seemed darker than usual, and sparkled with suppressed excitement. The few freckles on her pert nose seemed especially prominent. She looked pretty, alert, and very Irish.
Meanwhile, her nipples were red and rigid, perched high on her full breasts. Touch me, they almost screamed. Pinch me, suck me.
As if reading her thoughts, Noi caught her left nipple between a thumb and forefinger, and gave a little twist. Kate gasped. “You will be very popular,” observed the mamasan dryly. Kate couldn’t help blushing.
Noi began to apply makeup. Kate watched, fascinated, as her ruddy skin became pale, her freckles disappeared, her eyebrows darkened and arched, her eyes became shallow and almond-shaped. In a short time, she was looking at an Asian beauty, perhaps half-Thai, half-American, with moist, full lips and curly red hair.
“My hair…” she protested. Noi reached behind her and produced a wig of straight, black locks. She gathered Kate’s own ringlets into a tight ponytail then fitted the wig.
The transformation was complete. Black bangs cut across her forehead. Black tresses decorated her shoulders. She looked nineteen instead of twenty-eight. And, most assuredly, Thai.
The other girls gathered around. “Oh, madam, you look so beautiful.” Kate couldn’t help but smile, surrounded as she was by gorgeous female faces and forms.
“Here is your costume,” said Noi. “Gregory selected it especially for you.”
Kate grew a little paler. Was she really expected to wear this, in public? She looked at Noi in silent entreaty, but the mamasan just grinned. “Get dressed,” she said. “The dancing will start in just a few minutes.”
A corset of black vinyl, laced up the front, which cinched her waist and left her breasts bare. The briefest of G-strings, a tiny vinyl triangle that barely hid her bush plus a thong that settled deep in the crevice between her buttocks. Thigh-high vinyl boots with four-inch heels. And, finally, the leather collar she had last worn while Gregory had taken her from behind.
Fully attired, she checked herself in the mirror once more. A stranger stared back, a sultry Asian temptress. The body was more voluptuous than was typical for a Thai, full breasts and thighs that belied the woman’s youthful face. Her red-painted lips were half-open, luscious and inviting. Her skin shone already with a light sheen of sweat. Kate raised her arms above her head and swiveled her hips, as she had seen the other dancers do. The figure in the mirror moved gracefully, languidly, every motion beckoning the viewer to watch, touch, taste, possess her.
“Here is your number.” Noi handed her a plastic chip with a pin on the back. Kate had noticed all the girls wearing them. Apparently, they served as a simple accounting mechanism, for tallying the tips the girls received whenever a customer bought them a drink. She smiled wryly, noting that Gregory had assigned her the number sixty-nine.
Adult Excerpt
With expert skill, he bound her wrists with the silken braids. “Silk is a marvelous substance,” he commented. “So soft, but incredibly strong. Like you, my little Kate. I know that you can endure much. Much more than you would believe.”
She shivered, wondering exactly what he meant. He was working on her ankles now, in a business-like fashion, leaving her knees bent and open so that her sex was spread wide. Every time he touched her, heat rippled through her to that burning center, still sensitive and hungry from her earlier ministrations. She squirmed a bit, pushing her pelvis toward him.
“Be still,” he said sharply. “Be patient. You must learn to wait.”
Finally, she was bound, restrained from all but the most subtle movements. She found she was panting. Gregory stood at the foot of the bed, admiring her, or his handiwork.
“Excellent. Just as I imagined.”
He began to remove his clothes. She followed his every gesture. When he dropped his shirt to the floor, Kate sucked in her breath. Marshall’s left arm, from shoulder to wrist, was elaborately and beautifully tattooed. A pattern of multicolored flames writhed over his flesh—scarlet, green and turquoise. A trick of the flashing neon, or perhaps simply the motion of his muscles, made the flames dance across his flesh as if they were consuming him. A similar flame flickered in his blue eyes as he pulled off his trousers.
He mounted the bed and straddled her with his thighs. His engorged cock hovered above her body. Despite her best intentions, she arched upward, drawn to his flesh like iron to a magnet. In response, he leaned over to pinch both her nipples, hard enough that she cried out.
“Still, I said! You are mine now, mine to do as I wish. I will fuck you, or not fuck you, as I please. But,” he added, smiling, “I do please.”
The bonds already held her wide open. Her sex was already drenched with arousal. Holding her pinned with those ice-blue eyes, he sank his penis into the heart of her, into depths she had not known existed.
--
Buy Links (Ebook and Print)
Amazon US
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01AUSE5NE/
Amazon UK
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01AUSE5NE/
Barnes & Noble
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/raw-silk-lisabet-sarai/1102328201?ean=9781786510051
Totally Bound
https://www.totallybound.com/raw-silk
All Romance
https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-rawsilk-1992519-147.html
Goodreads
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28603390-raw-silk
--
Review Quotes
“This is by far one of the best erotic novels that I have read and it fully deserves every one of the five ribbons I am giving it! But it does make me wonder what the characters could do with them.”
~ Maree Schuler, Romance Junkies (Five Ribbons).
“[Kate’s] character grows and she comes to realize her inner needs along with her deep sexual desires. Lisabet Sarai has a flair for sexy, sensuous romance with an edgy feel. I cannot wait to read more by this talented author.”
~ Dawnie, Fallen Angels Reviews (Five Angels).
“The Bangkok setting is fascinating and adds to the overall feeling of opulent sensuality. Lisabet Sarai deftly shows the country without ever letting the descriptions take over the story. Good BDSM novels are voyages of self-discovery, and Raw Silk is a journey you’ll enjoy taking.”
~ Kathleen Bradean, Erotica Revealed
“...this is one SIZZLING read (the ending was incredible) and should not be put on the back burner of your ‘to read list.”
~ Alyssa, Amazon review (Five stars)
--
About Lisabet
LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.
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 and finally, on Twitter.
A Deeper Need
Erotic romance (including the all-too-famous trilogy) sometimes treats BDSM rather superficially. As I see it, BDSM is not about doing things: spanking, whipping, bondage, forced exhibitionism, or whatever. Power exchange is more a state of being, an ongoing psychic connection between the top and bottom which amplifies sensation and emotion regardless of who is doing what to whom.
I know there are some subs who seek pain for its own sake, but I have a deeper need: the need to totally surrender to a powerful other, to trust him (or her) not just with my body but with my spirit. For me, BDSM is transformational and healing, more about devotion and respect, honesty and intimacy, than about pain or even pleasure. Meanwhile, in order to feel whole, a true dominant requires the sub's willing acquiescence to being controlled and used. Complementary needs, complementary fantasies—like pieces of a puzzle, each partner in the power exchange completes the other.
My novel Raw Silk explores this view of D/s—as do the many BDSM stories I’ve penned since that book. If you’re tired of stories that get hung up in the Red Room without taking you into the characters’ hearts, check out the newly expanded edition of Raw Silk.
Blurb
When software engineer Kate O’Neill leaves her lover David to take a job in Thailand, she becomes sexually involved with two very different men—a handsome and debauched member of the Thai aristocracy, and the charismatic proprietor of a sex bar.
Each touches her in a different way, each teaches her different things about her body and her heart.
Then David comes to Bangkok, and Kate realizes that, finally, she must choose one of the three men who all desire her.
--
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of M/M and F/F sex, sex with multiple partners, scenes of mixed ménage, scenes of dubious consent and forced cunnilingus, voyeurism, exhibitionism, sex in public places, pegging as well as the use of inanimate objects during sex scenes.
--
Story Excerpt
Gregory turned to Noi. “Help her get ready. I promised her that no one would know who she was.”
“Kate, put yourself in Noi’s hands. She’s an expert.” He bent down to whisper in her ear. “Remember, I will be watching.” She felt a hard pinch on her bottom. “Break a leg,” he said in a jocular tone, then was gone.
Noi took Kate by the hand. “Sit here,” she ordered, “and take off your shirt.” Kate stripped off the T-shirt. She was bare-breasted beneath, but the women around her did not give her a second glance. She sat at the dressing table that Noi indicated, looking at herself in the mirror.
She was flushed. Her green eyes seemed darker than usual, and sparkled with suppressed excitement. The few freckles on her pert nose seemed especially prominent. She looked pretty, alert, and very Irish.
Meanwhile, her nipples were red and rigid, perched high on her full breasts. Touch me, they almost screamed. Pinch me, suck me.
As if reading her thoughts, Noi caught her left nipple between a thumb and forefinger, and gave a little twist. Kate gasped. “You will be very popular,” observed the mamasan dryly. Kate couldn’t help blushing.
Noi began to apply makeup. Kate watched, fascinated, as her ruddy skin became pale, her freckles disappeared, her eyebrows darkened and arched, her eyes became shallow and almond-shaped. In a short time, she was looking at an Asian beauty, perhaps half-Thai, half-American, with moist, full lips and curly red hair.
“My hair…” she protested. Noi reached behind her and produced a wig of straight, black locks. She gathered Kate’s own ringlets into a tight ponytail then fitted the wig.
The transformation was complete. Black bangs cut across her forehead. Black tresses decorated her shoulders. She looked nineteen instead of twenty-eight. And, most assuredly, Thai.
The other girls gathered around. “Oh, madam, you look so beautiful.” Kate couldn’t help but smile, surrounded as she was by gorgeous female faces and forms.
“Here is your costume,” said Noi. “Gregory selected it especially for you.”
Kate grew a little paler. Was she really expected to wear this, in public? She looked at Noi in silent entreaty, but the mamasan just grinned. “Get dressed,” she said. “The dancing will start in just a few minutes.”
A corset of black vinyl, laced up the front, which cinched her waist and left her breasts bare. The briefest of G-strings, a tiny vinyl triangle that barely hid her bush plus a thong that settled deep in the crevice between her buttocks. Thigh-high vinyl boots with four-inch heels. And, finally, the leather collar she had last worn while Gregory had taken her from behind.
Fully attired, she checked herself in the mirror once more. A stranger stared back, a sultry Asian temptress. The body was more voluptuous than was typical for a Thai, full breasts and thighs that belied the woman’s youthful face. Her red-painted lips were half-open, luscious and inviting. Her skin shone already with a light sheen of sweat. Kate raised her arms above her head and swiveled her hips, as she had seen the other dancers do. The figure in the mirror moved gracefully, languidly, every motion beckoning the viewer to watch, touch, taste, possess her.
“Here is your number.” Noi handed her a plastic chip with a pin on the back. Kate had noticed all the girls wearing them. Apparently, they served as a simple accounting mechanism, for tallying the tips the girls received whenever a customer bought them a drink. She smiled wryly, noting that Gregory had assigned her the number sixty-nine.
 |
| My Inspiration for Noi a Character In This Novel |
Adult Excerpt
With expert skill, he bound her wrists with the silken braids. “Silk is a marvelous substance,” he commented. “So soft, but incredibly strong. Like you, my little Kate. I know that you can endure much. Much more than you would believe.”
She shivered, wondering exactly what he meant. He was working on her ankles now, in a business-like fashion, leaving her knees bent and open so that her sex was spread wide. Every time he touched her, heat rippled through her to that burning center, still sensitive and hungry from her earlier ministrations. She squirmed a bit, pushing her pelvis toward him.
“Be still,” he said sharply. “Be patient. You must learn to wait.”
Finally, she was bound, restrained from all but the most subtle movements. She found she was panting. Gregory stood at the foot of the bed, admiring her, or his handiwork.
“Excellent. Just as I imagined.”
He began to remove his clothes. She followed his every gesture. When he dropped his shirt to the floor, Kate sucked in her breath. Marshall’s left arm, from shoulder to wrist, was elaborately and beautifully tattooed. A pattern of multicolored flames writhed over his flesh—scarlet, green and turquoise. A trick of the flashing neon, or perhaps simply the motion of his muscles, made the flames dance across his flesh as if they were consuming him. A similar flame flickered in his blue eyes as he pulled off his trousers.
He mounted the bed and straddled her with his thighs. His engorged cock hovered above her body. Despite her best intentions, she arched upward, drawn to his flesh like iron to a magnet. In response, he leaned over to pinch both her nipples, hard enough that she cried out.
“Still, I said! You are mine now, mine to do as I wish. I will fuck you, or not fuck you, as I please. But,” he added, smiling, “I do please.”
The bonds already held her wide open. Her sex was already drenched with arousal. Holding her pinned with those ice-blue eyes, he sank his penis into the heart of her, into depths she had not known existed.
--
Buy Links (Ebook and Print)
Amazon US
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01AUSE5NE/
Amazon UK
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01AUSE5NE/
Barnes & Noble
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/raw-silk-lisabet-sarai/1102328201?ean=9781786510051
Totally Bound
https://www.totallybound.com/raw-silk
All Romance
https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-rawsilk-1992519-147.html
Goodreads
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28603390-raw-silk
--
Review Quotes
“This is by far one of the best erotic novels that I have read and it fully deserves every one of the five ribbons I am giving it! But it does make me wonder what the characters could do with them.”
~ Maree Schuler, Romance Junkies (Five Ribbons).
“[Kate’s] character grows and she comes to realize her inner needs along with her deep sexual desires. Lisabet Sarai has a flair for sexy, sensuous romance with an edgy feel. I cannot wait to read more by this talented author.”
~ Dawnie, Fallen Angels Reviews (Five Angels).
“The Bangkok setting is fascinating and adds to the overall feeling of opulent sensuality. Lisabet Sarai deftly shows the country without ever letting the descriptions take over the story. Good BDSM novels are voyages of self-discovery, and Raw Silk is a journey you’ll enjoy taking.”
~ Kathleen Bradean, Erotica Revealed
“...this is one SIZZLING read (the ending was incredible) and should not be put on the back burner of your ‘to read list.”
~ Alyssa, Amazon review (Five stars)
--
About Lisabet
LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.
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 and finally, on Twitter.
October 21, 2016
Make Me Forget by Jacqueline Anne - She Moved In A Rhythm That Made Him Want To Drop To His Knees - #Erotic #Romance #MF
Bestselling romance author, Paige Mattheson, is experiencing the worst case of writer’s block. She hasn’t written a word in weeks and is struggling with the intimate scenes in her book. With deadlines quickly approaching, she goes on a weekend getaway to the beach to clear her head. She promises herself she will relax and find her true self again, along with some inspiration to see past her heartache and complete her novel.
Fun loving, Tyler Barrow, is vacationing in Montauk, New York. He is passionate about his career as a teacher and about surfing. When Tyler misses his original flight home, a miscommunication with the owner of the rental unit finds Tyler staring at a beautiful woman in his kitchen. He is instantly drawn to her and eager to find out why, even if it is only for the weekend.
Paige is initially annoyed by the naked intruder who has interrupted her quiet vacation. She sticks to the promise she made herself and tries to let go and have some fun.
Will Tyler be able to make Paige forget about her past? Will fate prove to be more than just a weekend fling even though they live on different ends of the earth?
Only time and a bestselling novel will tell.
Excerpt:
He got up and sauntered out to the kitchen, stark naked. It was how he’d slept, how he always did. He made his way around the corner and froze.
Standing in his kitchen, lightly tapping her fingers on the countertop as she waited for the coffee to finish brewing, was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Her straight, light brown hair draped over her shoulders. She was wearing boy short panties, revealing the bottom curves of a sexy, plump ass and a matching tank top.
Damn.
The side view of her breasts looked amazing in her tight shirt. She stood on her tiptoes reaching for a coffee mug from the top shelf. Tyler’s eyes traveled from the top of her head all the way down to her pointed toes. His breath hitched at the sight before him. All thoughts went out of his mind as he took a step…and tripped over the rug in the hallway.
Her eyes darted toward him, and she let out a high-pitched scream. She pulled a knife from the wooden block on the counter.
“Stay back,” she yelled, holding the knife away from her, preparing for battle. “Who the hell are you?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Tyler put his hands in the air to show her he was unarmed and harmless. He tried to speak calmly to her, but his racing heart and the excitement he was experiencing was making it difficult. A small smile found his lips. This gorgeous woman was holding a knife to him and yelling at him, and it was turning him on.
The woman’s green eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she studied him.
Just then, Tyler realized he was naked. His hands quickly covered his junk—or tried to. His morning wood, turned full-on erection from seeing a beautiful woman in her panties and a tight-ass shirt, was not helping.
“Why are you in my condo?” she demanded to know.
“Your condo? It’s mine. I have been renting it for the past few weeks.”
She vigorously shook her head. “No, no, no. I just rented it a few days ago because it was available this weekend. The owner told me the renter left earlier than expected.”
“I told him I needed it longer than expected because I missed my flight home. Shit. I’m sorry. I—” Tyler took a step forward.
“Oh for crying out loud! Could you please put some pants on? I can’t talk to you while you’re naked!”
Tyler nodded and scurried back to his room to put on a pair of shorts.
When he came back, the beautiful woman was frantically pacing the kitchen, waving the knife around.
“This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening! I am supposed to be unwinding. I have work to do. I have a fucking book to finish,” she ranted.
Buy Links:
Totally Bound: https://www.totallybound.com/book/make-me-forget
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1lEUEJI
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1ObGpHo
Amazon Canada: http://amzn.to/1lEUYZ4
Amazon Australia: http://bit.ly/1P327Pd
B&N: http://bit.ly/1HikhtI
Google: http://bit.ly/1NLscfD
iTunes: http://apple.co/1LvLS5y
Get to know Jacqueline Anne…
Struggling through health issues, I discovered my love for reading romances. Writing then became my escape and in some ways, a depiction of my spirit. I enjoy creating strong female characters who overcome hardships, reflecting on some of my own adversities, trials, and triumphs. The relationships are sweet and sexy with characters who embody discovery, lust, trust, happiness, and love.
I lead a full and exciting life in Northeast Ohio. I love to bake, create, workout, dance, and read. I truly believe everything happens for a reason. My life can attest to that. Work hard. Play hard. Live life to the fullest each and every day, doing it all in a pair of 4" heels ;). Who says you can't have it all?
April 27, 2016
#CoverReveal - The Tutor by K.D. Grace
Sometimes it Sizzles When
Things Go Pear-shaped
Preorder: 30th August
Early Download (on the TB website): 13th September
General Release: 11th October
I've been barely able to contain myself this past two weeks, just bursting to tell you the good news, and now at last I can. Not only can I tell you that my steamy contemporary romance novel, The Tutor, has been snapped up by the Totally Entwined imprint of Totally Bound, but I can now reveal the gorgeous cover which sizzles with the creative genius of Emmy Ellis.
The Tutor has a very special place in my heart because it had its beginnings last October at Smut Manchester during Kay Jaybee's wonderfully wicked "trip to the supermarket" workshop on inspiration. We were all given an item from the supermarket shelf and told we'd been called over the loudspeaker to go to the stockroom. From that we were to write the beginnings of a story about what we'd find in the stockroom and what we'd do with our item in said stockroom.
I still remember the smug little smirk on Ms. Jaybee's face when she handed me the slip of paper that read A tin of pears in heavy syrup. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that before the weekend was out, I'd have the seeds for a novel that just had to be written. In fact, it needed to be written so badly that I signed up for NaNoWriMo -- National Novel Writing Month in November and wrote the whole 95K in one month! Here's just a taste of the end result. Enjoy!
Blurb:
Struggling writer, Kelly Blake has a secret life as a sex tutor. Celebrated sculptor and recluse, Alexander ‘Lex’ Valens, can’t stand to be touched. When he seeks out Kelly’s advice incognito, the results are too hot to handle. When Kelly terminates their sessions due to what she considers her unprofessional behavior, Lex takes a huge risk, revealing his identity to her at a gala exhibition, his first ever public appearance.
When Kelly helps the severely haphephobic Lex escape the grope of reporters and paparazzi, rumors fly that the two are engaged, rumors encouraged by well-meaning friends and colleagues. The press feeding frenzy forces Kelly into hiding at Lex’s mansion where he convinces her to be his private tutor just until the press loses interest, and she can go back home. They discover quickly that touch is not essential for sizzling, pulse-pounding intimacy. But intimacy must survive the secrets uncovered as their sessions become more and more personal.
Excerpt
“Was this your idea or Dillon’s? Kelly asked, hoping to relax him.
“It
was mine, after Andy told Dillon and he told me. I thought it was
something that I …” The muscles along Lex’s jaw looked as
though they were made out of iron, and a fine blush crawled up his
neck tinting his ears bright pink. “I’ve never touched a woman …
in that way.” He forced a laugh. “Obviously. I’ve …” the
blush deepened and he avoided her gaze. “I’ve put lube on some of
the sculptures – you know -- down there, but I … well it isn’t
the same.”
“The
pears won’t be either,” she said, her heart suddenly aching at
the physical isolation this man endured on a daily basis, and it
wasn’t just her heart that ached, she felt his lack deep in her
core. It had been easier with Andy. She had been almost flippant with
him. She was sorry for that now. She spread one of the towels on the
Queen Anne chair across from him and settled herself onto it so they
were facing each other. “The texture will be different and with the
pear there’ll be less give.” She dipped her fingers in the bowl
and rubbed the heavy juice between her index finger and her thumb.
“If you touch a woman, she’ll be much warmer.” She gave him a
conspiratorial smile. “You’ll be amazed at how warm and how soft
she’ll be down there when she’s ready to be touched. With Andy,
this,” she nodded down to the pears, “was improvisation, this was
the best I could do under the circumstances, but a woman, well a
woman feels like nothing you’ve ever touched before.”
He
was no longer avoiding her gaze. His eyes were locked on her, and he
was struggling to keep them on her face, she knew that; she
understood the urge for him to drop his eyes to the place of which
she spoke, the place with which she was so intimate, the place that
couldn’t help but respond to the topic, to the situation, to the
strange intimacy they had shared almost since the moment they’d
met. “You can look, if you want,” she opened her legs so that he
could see the place in between clothed in black denim, completely
disguised and yet so very obvious. “And I’ll look at you too,”
she nodded down to his own jeans straining to contain him already.
“It’s what men and woman are naturally inclined to do when
there’s a sexual attraction.”
With
her heart hammering in her throat, she took one of the pear halves
into the cupped palm of her left hand, then she brought it down
between her spread thighs, feeling the juice of it run over her
fingers and drip onto the towel as she spread her legs a little
farther and held her pam to mimic the position of her vulva. “Touch
it like a woman would touch it, and you’ll always get it right.”
She drug her index and middle finger up from the bottom of the pear
to the center and felt her own body respond in empathy. “The pear
has no folds, no secret valleys, no swollen flesh to be teased open,
so you’ll have to use your imagination with that.”
Lex
gave a little moan soft and deep in his chest as he shifted to make
himself more comfortable. “I know the anatomy,” he said. “I’ve
watched porn and I’ve studied drawings. I know how it looks
like it might feel. I know the response it elicits.” His tongue
flicked nervously over his upper lip. “Of course that’s just
acting, isn’t it?”
“Porn
is about fantasy, about voyeurism, and it doesn’t matter if it’s
real if it gets you off. But when it is real,” she spread her index
and middle finger up the sides of the pear’s central opening, “if
you’re good, if your sensitive, you’ll feel the spasms of your
lover’s orgasm, even see them if you’re using your tongue; and
you can feel them gripping at your cock when your inside her. If
you’re paying attention.
“The
clitoris,” she laughed softly, “Well with Andy I used a Ticktack,
but he’s a chemistry major. He likes charts and graphs and periodic
tables. You’re an artist, you live in your imagination, so you
don’t need a Ticktack. Some women like the thumb stroking and
circling while the other fingers work inside. Some women like to use
their fingers.” She demonstrated on the pear, and Lex groaned.
“It’s always best to ask and be sure.”
“What
do you like?” His words were a labored rasp against the back of his
throat, and Kelly found herself stunned by the question, and way more
aroused than she wanted to be. He shouldn’t have asked. She should
have answered. But she did.
“I
like it this way.” She shifted her hips and opened a little further
so he could see her thrust and scissor, circle and probe technique,
and her body responded with the tight grip and release of muscle
memory.
“Jesus,”
he whispered moving forward on the sofa and leaning closer for a
better look. “And when someone uses their tongue?”
She
caught her breath in a giddy laugh. “Afraid I can’t tell you what
I do since, sadly I’m not that flexible.”
“But
you can tell me what you like.” His voice had gone rough.
“I
like the flat of the tongue to part me and then probe me, circle my
clit and then kiss and suck.” She closed her eyes, finding it
difficult to meet his gaze when she spoke about something so
intimate, so secret. Come to think of it, she’d never had a man
actually ask her how she liked it. The few who had given a rat’s
ass about her pleasure had been happy enough to let her order them
about, but never quite got the hang of it.
It
was the loud schussing sound that caused her to open her eyes. Lex
had moved the coffee table out of the way paying no attention to the
slosh of pear juice all over the towel V had spread. His eyes were
locked on Kelly as he fished out his own pear half and fell to his
knees in front of her. When she realized what the man was about to do
she dropped the pear she’d been holding with a little gasp of
surprise and scooted as far back in the chair as she could. He knelt
low, holding the pear in the cup of his hand, as she had, placing it
against the edge of the chair between her legs! She gave a little
yelp and scrambled back in the chair still further, spreading her
thighs over the rise of the chair arms to keep from touching him. He
moved forward, the back of his hand so close to her crotch that she
could feel the heat of it, and he lowered himself still further until
his hair nearly brushed the insides of her thighs. Then, still
looking up at her from his position on the floor, he began at the
bottom of the open pear half and ran his tongue flat and undulating
all the way up, flicking in just slightly in a little circle at the
top end before he closed his lips around the apex and she could hear
the slurp and suck of the sweet syrup.
“Oh!
Lex! Ah!” And then she went non-verbal, holding her breath,
tightening muscles deep inside her body, the only muscles she dared
to move if she were to keep from touching him. She raised both arms
and fisted her hands in a suicide grip around the back of the chair
to keep from curling them in his hair. Her thighs trembled from her
efforts to keep her legs on the chair arms and not throw them over
his shoulders for leverage. She didn’t move. She didn’t breath as
he licked and nuzzled and suckled until pear juice ran down his chin
and onto his tee-shirt, until his face was damp and sticky, until his
forehead was sheened with perspiration, and still he held her gaze as
though they were locked together in each other’s orbit neither able
to move without the other’s consent.
“Oh
God, I’m gonna come.” She barely managed a warning when his own
convulsion brought him dangerously near her body. He had stopped
breathing, she was sure of it. She practically climbed the back of
the chair to keep from touching him as he lost control. Then with a
tremendous gasp of oxygen, he straightened, let the pear fall from
his hand onto the aubusson carpet and looked up at her.
“I’m
going to pass out.” And he did.
---
Voted
ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes,
K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all
about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than
she is, otherwise, what would she write about?
When
she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not
gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s
serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast
across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For
her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears
out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading,
watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.
K
D has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins
Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace,Sweetmeats Press and
others.
K
D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The
Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling
the Contract, To
Rome with Lust, and The
Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body
Temperature and Rising, the first book of
her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on
Violet
Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two
and three, Riding
the Ether, and Elemental
Fire, are now also available.
K
D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace
Marshall. An
Executive Decision, Identity
Crisis, The
Exhibition, Interviewing
Wade are all available.
---
Find
K D Here:
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/KD_Grace
February 10, 2016
Owned For Christmas by #WillaEdwards
Title: Owned For Christmas
Author: Willa Edwards
Release Date: November 28th, 2014
Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
Buy Link: https://www.totallybound.com/owned-for-christmas
Genre: Erotic Contemporary Menage BDSM
Blurb
Christmas with her boyfriend’s family seems like a lovely idea—until she finds her previous Dom staying for the holidays too.
Kate Baker is nervous about meeting her boyfriend Daniel’s family. When she walks into the family home to find Grant, her former Dom, spending the holidays with them too, her world turns upside down. How can she spend Christmas with the man who shattered her heart and broke her trust in the whole BDSM scene?
Although she had no idea that Grant and Daniel were brothers, Grant revives all those needs that Daniel can’t fulfill. But she won’t give up the man who helped mend her broken heart after Grant shattered it—even if she has to bury the submissive part of herself to do it.
A year ago, Grant Farrell left the woman he loved—and the best sub he’s ever controlled—to tend the family ranch after his father’s death. It almost tore his heart out to leave Kate but he had no other choice. But he doesn’t realize how much it hurt them both until she shows up at his family’s home on his brother’s arm.
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of anal sex and double penetration.
Excerpt
“Are you sure your mom will like me?” Kate threaded and unthreaded her fingers together. The snow-covered Rocky Mountains filled her passenger side window. The ground crunched under their tires, illustrating that they weren’t in Texas anymore—that and the sub-zero temperature.
When her boyfriend had asked her to spend Christmas with his family in Colorado, she’d been ecstatic. Now she was rethinking her decision.
She stared out of the window, focusing on breathing deeply. The last thing she wanted was to have a panic attack the second she walked into her boyfriend’s childhood home. What a great first impression that would leave. For years to come, she’d be known as the crazy girl he brought home that one Christmas who stopped breathing right inside the front door.
Daniel pulled his hand from the steering wheel and reached across the car for hers. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure she’ll love you.”
She nodded and tried to believe him. It had been a long time since she’d met anyone’s mother. She’d stopped being the type of girl a man would take home to his family a while ago. She had never thought she’d be back in this position again.
That was until Daniel had appeared in her life. She looked over at the man sitting beside her. He’d glance at her with his warm, honey-brown eyes every once in a while. He’d combed his sandy hair back neatly. He was her savior. He’d found her, picked her up and helped her to glue her heart back together when she’d given up any hope that it was possible. The least she could do for him was meet his mother.
“What is there about you that’s not to love?” He smiled over at her.
There was a lot not to love. There certainly had been before. Enough to force someone to leave her. Or at least one very notable person. The one who had broken her heart and left her behind to pick up the pieces.
But that was all before Daniel. She tried to smile back.
They took a left turn, pulling off the highway onto a winding dirt road. Snow, a few inches deep, was piled up on either side of the road. White blanketed the trees and rocks. The car shook and dipped down the bumpy road. She braced herself against the car seat. This was a long way from her normal commute to school each morning. She’d never complain about Dallas traffic again. At least it didn’t have potholes the size of cannonballs, or ice.
“Trust me. It will be great. We got through the plane ride, didn’t we?”
Kate nodded. She had survived the plane ride. Thanks in part to Daniel and two mini bottles of vodka. But somehow, she’d lived through the flight. Her hands had even stopped shaking. “Of course I trust you.”
Daniel turned another corner, shifting onto an unpaved drive. It was hard not to notice the house so covered in twinkle lights it could almost be seen from space. It was beautiful. The quaint, tiny farmhouse sat nestled back into a hill. With the snow covering its roof and the lights decorating the porch, it almost looked like the front of a Christmas card. The kind she would have found and looked at longingly as a child from her Dallas bedroom.
If only she could stop her stomach from churning, she might be able to enjoy the sight.
Daniel slowed the vehicle before parking the rental car to the left of the small house.
“We’re home.” He grinned over at her.
Kate took a deep breath. He looked so happy, so excited. Her stomach churned more violently. She wished she felt the same as he did.
He scrambled out of the car toward the back to get their bags. Kate opened the door, stepping out into the cool air. Her boots squished in the snow. Good thing she’d gone for the heavy winter coat. She’d never seen so much snow in her life, besides on television. The bitter wind brushed her face and her nose burned slightly. But the snowfall was pretty, decorating everything in white and ice.
Daniel slammed the trunk before coming to meet her beside the car, a bag cradled under each arm. Always the gentleman. Just another reason she loved him so much.
“Don’t tell me it looks that bad,” he joked, a wide smirk on his face.
Kate tightened her coat around her chest, schooling her features into a more excited expression. She’d hate for his mother to see the dumbfounded look she must have been sporting. She didn’t want to give his mom the impression she was judging them, or that she was disappointed in what she found—she certainly wasn’t.
She didn’t think his childhood home looked bad at all. In fact, the little house in the snow was very pretty and picturesque. So different from her parents’ house, so different from the Christmases she’d always known.
--
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