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New Release! The Toymakers Guild: The Complete Series By Lisabet Sarai @lisabetsarai #Steampunk #Erotica #Kink

At Randerley Hall, lust is a lubricant to creativity.
Nothing is impossible.
Nothing is forbidden.

Now available as a boxed set – all three volumes in Lisabet Sarai’s intensely erotic steampunk series, The Toymakers Guild!

BOOK INFORMATION

Steampunk Erotica, MF, MM, FF, MFM, FMF, etcetera…
265K words, 821 pages
Amazon KDP
ASIN: ‎ B0CGQMD3S6

BLURB

Defying the repressive morality of the Victorian era, the Toymakers Guild uses advanced technology to fabricate bespoke sexual devices for the discrete pleasure of select clients. Its members are not only brilliant engineers but also sexual renegades seeking freedom from the prudish society that surrounds them.

Nineteen-year-old prodigy Gillian Smith arrives at Randerley to apply for an apprenticeship in the Guild. With her technical abilities and her lascivious temperament, she is eminently suited to join the Master Toymaker’s close-knit band of uninhibited erotic artisans. Gillian flourishes among the Toymakers, designing and implementing ever-more-outrageous carnal contraptions. Each voluptuous commission she completes, each sensual adventure she enjoys, binds her more tightly to the Guild and to the perverse, tortured genius who is its founder.

If you like brilliant, wanton women and kinky steam punk sex toys, dive into the alternate universe of the The Toymakers Guild.

BUY LINKS

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CGQMD3S6/
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CGQMD3S6/
https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0CGQMD3S6/
https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B0CGQMD3S6
Free on Kindle Unlimited!

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/198043949-the-toymakers-guild

Add on BookBub –
https://www.bookbub.com/books/the-toymakers-guild-the-complete-series-by-lisabet-sarai

GUEST POST

Clockwork and Concupiscence

I’ve always felt an affinity for the Victorian period. I was wearing high-necked blouses with cameos, long flowing skirts, and lace-up boots in my teens, long before they were fashionable. (The corsets came later…!) With my long hair parted in the middle and pulled back into a bun, I could well have been one of the heroines in the books I loved so much.

I was also a science geek from my earliest days. I received my first microscope when I was five, and my first chemistry set at seven. I entered every science fair. In seventh grade, I won grand prize on a televised science quiz show.

So it’s hardly surprising I’ve become a devotee of steam punk. I’ve been in love with this strange meld of science fiction and Victoriana for as long as I can remember – long before steam punk even had a name.  When I was in high school, I devoured H.G. Wells and H. Rider Haggard, and shared a Sherlock Holmes obsession with my dad. Later, I marveled at Neal Stephenson’s The Diamond Age and more recently, I discovered Gordon Dahlquist’s incredible The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters.

I’ve written a number of steam punk short stories for anthologies, as well as a full length novel, Rajasthani Moon. All these tales, though, were set in Asia rather than in the British Isles. I think I was afraid I’d make errors my UK readers would notice if I tried setting a story in Queen Victoria’s home country. In my steam punk trilogy The Toymakers Guild I finally bit the bullet and wrote an English steam punk novel. I had a lot of help with details from my critique group at the Erotica Readers & Writers Association, but of course I take responsibility for any residual mistakes.

I just hope you’ll find the story so exciting, you won’t notice them!

EXCERPT

X rated

“Enough!” she said, pushing herself into a half-sit. “Enough foreplay. I’ve been nearly two weeks without your cocks. I want you inside me.”

Rafe swung his legs onto the bed so he could stretch out beside her.

She reached out to capture his steely erection and gave it a squeeze. He felt bigger and harder than she remembered. He moaned in response.

Jeremiah crawled up the other side, between her body and the wall, and lay on his side, his head propped up on his hand. His luscious dark cock prodded her thigh, streaking her pale skin with pre-cum. Without relinquishing her grip on Rafe’s member, she stroked Jeremiah’s shaft, savouring the way the velvet-soft skin slid over the steel beneath.

“Oh, Jill! That’s marvellous!” Rafe murmured. “Though if you keep it up, I’ll spend faster than a ruptured cistern.”

“I’m not sure I can hold on either.” Jeremiah gritted his teeth as she ran her thumb over the knob, then tickled the sensitive ridge underneath. “But we’ll do our best for your sake. Who do you want first?”

“That should be you, Jerry, given that I got first taste.”

“No, it’s Jill’s choice.”

Heart racing like a runaway locomotive, Gillian looked from one man to the other. “I don’t want to choose. I want you both inside me.”

Jeremiah bolted upright, his eyes wide. “At the same time?”

She nodded, amused by his apparent shock.

Rafe rolled off the bed and onto his feet, grinning broadly. He knew her better than the Jamaican did. After all, they’d shared the Master’s aphrodisiac wine.

“I – um – how…?”  Jeremiah’s habitual poise had utterly fled. Despite his carnal aptitude, it was clear that certain things were outside the realm of his experience.

“Lie on your back,” Jill instructed. “You’re thicker than Rafe, so I think I’d rather have you in my cunny.” She scooted toward the outside edge of the mattress to give him room, then quickly removed her drawers. “This time, at least,” she added mischievously.

Jeremiah made an arousing picture, stretched out with his magnificent prick pointed toward the ceiling. Kneeling, Gillian straddled him and aligned her slit with the pinkish head. She lowered her body just enough to let her lower lips brush over the tip, then tilted her pelvis a few times to coat him with her juices.

The man below her groaned. “Don’t play with me,” he begged. “Take me, before it’s too late.”

She bent to press a brief kiss to Jeremiah’s succulent mouth. “I’m sure you can manage to control yourself,” she told him. As slowly she could manage, inch by careful inch, she let herself sink down, impaling herself on his cock.

After her weeks of chastity, her cunny was tight and almost unbearably sensitive. Jeremiah’s substantial bulk slid across her inner walls, stretching and opening her in the most delicious way imaginable. Her memories of their two previous couplings were not in error. The fit was perfect, filling her to the hilt and stimulating every nerve, without the slightest hint of pain.

“Oh, God, Jill! I can’t believe how good you feel.” He grasped her hips and arched up, burying himself more deeply.

Gillian clenched her cunt-muscles around his shaft. Jeremiah’s cock swelled and shuddered inside her. “Don’t move yet,” she said. “And please, don’t spend. I want us all to come together.” She flopped onto her hands and knees, her face close enough to Jeremiah’s for her to claim another quick kiss, then looked over her shoulder at Rafe.

“You know what to do, my dear.”

The wiry journeyman nodded. “Do you have anything I can use for lubricant?” he asked.

Gillian considered the question. Why hadn’t she visited the kitchen after dinner? She shook her head, annoyed that she hadn’t prepared more carefully for this evening. “I’m sorry.”

“Never mind.” He flashed her an angelic smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”

She let her head fall onto Jeremiah’s chest in order to elevate her arse. His skin was warm and slightly damp with sweat. She could hear the Jamaican’s heartbeat, fast and regular. She could feel the same pulse in the cock embedded in her quim. She sensed his tension, the near-irresistible desire to thrust, but he managed to remain still.

Thank you, she thought. Thank you both.

REVIEWS

The Journeyman’s Trial, The Toymakers Guild Book 2

Although set in the Victorian era, the denizens of Randerley Hall are thoroughly modern in the enthusiastic and open way they embrace their sexuality, pushing boundaries with the same vigor and gusto they push the boundaries of science. The members of The Guild embrace all manner of delightfully kinky perversions, while making scientific breakthroughs that are far ahead of their time. “The Journeyman’s Trial” has everything—adventure, romance, intrigue, and sizzling sensuality. I highly recommend you take the plunge and dive in. ~ Lawrence Westerman, Amazon

The Master’s Mark, The Toymakers Guild Book 3

… an excellent example of lusty yet tasteful erotica with an engaging plot and characters the reader actually cares about. The richly crafted steampunk setting, the chemistry between the characters, and the lusty passion heating up every page all come together in this breathtaking finale of the Toymakers series. ~ Michael Swanson, Amazon

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

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#NewRelease: By Moonlight by Lisabet Sarai @LisabetSarai #Lesbian #Sapphic #Highwayman #Outlaw #EighteenthCentury #Adventure #CrossDressing #GenderBending #Devonshire #KingGeorge #RedCoats


My blog guest today is Lisabet Sarai, with her exciting new release By Moonlight.

BOOK INFORMATION

Historical Lesbian Erotic Romance
Five flames
16,000 words, 63 pages
Smashwords and Amazon KDP
ISBN (Smashwords): 9798215460337
ASIN: ‎ ‎B0C99C59RY

Don’t Throw Anything Away

 

Inspiration is fickle. One day you’ll be seized by an idea that just won’t let you go. You throw yourself into the writing, intoxicated by the process of creation, certain this will be the best book you’ve ever produced. The sentences and paragraphs flow, the story taking shape on the page almost without effort.

 

Then, suddenly and inexplicably, the fire dies out. The magic evaporates, and you’re left to plod along, trying dutifully to complete the opus to which you’ve devoted your time, despite your doubts about its quality.

 

If you’re trying to make a living writing, you can’t afford to wait for the muse. You’ve got to produce. If, like me, you write primarily for the joy of the process, you may abandon the entire project when your inspiration disappears.

 

That’s what happened with By Moonlight. For years, I’d wanted to write an erotic tale based on the Alfred Noyes poem “The Highwayman”. One day the stars aligned. I sat down and wrote the first chapter in a couple of hours. It turned out exactly as I’d imagined it, both lyrical and arousing. I was chuffed, as my UK author friends would say, eager to push the tale forward.

 

The next weekend, though, when I sat down to continue, I discovered that inspiration had fled. The whole notion seemed silly. I really couldn’t force myself to write any more.

 

So I put the barely-started tale aside and worked on something else. I always have lots of potential projects in mind, far more than my writing time allows.

 

That was four years ago. I’d almost forgotten By Moonlight. Then a stormy night recently reminded me of the poem, and the poem reminded me of the story. When I pulled it up and re-read it, I was freshly impressed and determined to complete it.

 

After such a long lag, I worried that I wouldn’t be able to recreate the tone of that intense first installment. Fortunately I was able to get feedback from my online critique partners, who helped me to adjust the language and the atmosphere appropriately. All in all, I’m happy with the result. I think I’ve managed to fulfill my intentions, offering homage to the Noyes poem while twisting the story in an original (and happier) direction.

 

The lesson here, though, is clear. If you are an author, don’t throw anything away! Keep all your snippets, all your abandoned projects, all your monuments to the departed muse.

 

You really never know when inspiration will return.

 

BLURB

I’ll come for you by moonlight – though Hell should bar the way

In her eighteen years on earth, Bess has never traveled more than twenty miles from her Devonshire village. The raven-haired innkeeper’s daughter has little time to dream of adventure as she labors from dawn to dusk to keep her abusive father satisfied.

Then, at the weekly market in Tavistock town, she meets a handsome dandy who claims her with a single stolen kiss. When the gallant gentleman makes a midnight visit to the inn, Bess learns that her new lover is none other than Kit Latour, a notorious French highwayman who has been boldly relieving the local nobility of their valuables. Well-aware of the risk she’s taking, Bess still offers herself to the seductive outlaw. Even Kit’s darkest secrets cannot quench the flames of her love.

EXCERPT

She must have drowsed, despite her determination to remain on guard. She heard no hoof beats clattering in the inn yard, no tapping on the barred shutters, only a soft whistle under her window that had her instantly alert.

She leaned out, her hair spilling over the casement. “Kit!” she cried, heedless of anyone hearing. “You’ve come at last.”

“Well met, my fair lady.” The lithe figure below gave a little bow. “Did you doubt me?”

“No doubt, my love, only fear. Your fame has spread wide. There be many who’d delight in spilling your blood.”

“Even more after tonight, I’ll wager. I’ve had rich takings along the high road. A fat, dyspeptic earl and his broomstick wife contributed generously to my cause.”

“Lord Haverstock? Oh Kit, he has the King’s ear.” She shrank back into the shadows of her bedroom, then peered anxiously into the distance. She almost expected to see His Majesty’s troops mustering on the country lane. “Why must you take such risks?”

Kit chuckled. “Without risk, life wouldn’t be worth living.” The bandit grasped the gnarled ivy vines that clung to the old inn and clambered up to the second floor. In moments, Bess was face to face with her beloved.

What was her Kit thinking, to ride in such finery against the wealthy and powerful? The coat was burgundy velvet, worn over a pure white linen shirt with a ruffle of lace at the throat. Supple doe-skin boots rose half-way up those strong thighs. The jeweled hilt of a dagger glittered at Kit’s waist. The hungry light in the bandit’s eyes burned brighter still.

“Oh, Bess, how I’ve missed you!”  Kit seized her, crushing her against the velvet, and captured her mouth. Bess pressed her soft body against her lover’s harder form, savoring the heady mixture of familiar comfort and forbidden arousal she always felt in Kit’s arms. A brazen tongue ravaged her mouth while knowing hands slipped under her shift to palm her buttocks and pull her closer still.

“Take this off, girl, before I rip it from your limbs,” Kit gasped, tugging at the fabric that hid her flesh. “I cannot wait another instant.”

Not so long ago she’d been a bashful virgin, but there was no shyness in her now. She pulled the garment over her head and tossed it onto the chair, shaking her long hair free.  Moonlight from the window made her pale skin glow. Kit’s eyes roamed over her nakedness. She’d never felt so beautiful, or so needy.

BUY LINKS

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/1183-by-moonlight-/
Amazon  US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C99C59RY
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0C99C59RY
Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1413596
Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/by-moonlight-lisabet-sarai/1143711659?ean=2940166073495
Kobo  – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/by-moonlight-8
Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6450718058
Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/180643788-by-moonlight
Add on BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/by-moonlight-by-lisabet-sarai

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

 

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Chantz, by Tim Rayborn: New queer urban fantasy! #Giveaway

Chantz - Tim Rayborn

Tim Rayborn has a new queer urban fantasy out (bi, lesbian)
Qwyrk Tales book 3: Chantz.

Qwyrk can’t get a break. Spring is springing, but she’s stuck breaking up drunken faery fights as Beltane approaches. She really wants to take things to the next level with her possibly-probably-girlfriend Holly, but she keeps coming down with a chronic case of chickening out.

And now, her best human friend, Jilly Pleeth, has had a rather odd encounter. While attending a concert by her favorite band, the Mystic Wedding Weasels, Jilly was amazed by their enigmatic singer, Chantz. There’s something downright magical about her voice, something so magical that an evil force from outside this world wants her for nefarious reasons. But will Chantz succumb to its lure?

Chantz is the third in a series of four novels about the comic misadventures of a group of misfits at the edge of normal reality in modern northern England, a world of shadows, Nighttime Nasties, eldritch screaming horrors, appalling neo-Shakespearean sonnets, undead corvids, an abundance of verbal sparring, and… Qwyrk is not an elf, all right? They’re just silly!

Universal Buy Link


Giveaway

Tim is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47279/?


Excerpt

After a few minutes of meandering on campus, she found a rather expansive and tree-filled enclosure marked by a sign reading “Welcome to St. George’s Field.” Seeing as she could lose herself in its trees, this place would suffice. Wandering in, she found herself strolling through a historic cemetery, which appealed to her gothy aesthetic sensibilities. She sat herself down on a stone bench not far from some centuries-old headstones and tried to focus, to think, to something.

She closed her eyes, trying to recall the feeling of the power flowing through her.

“What are you?” she whispered.

For a time, she felt nothing. Sighing in frustration, she opened her eyes. The field was mercifully unpopulated today, so she decided to risk singing a little tune, an old Irish folk song. She couldn’t remember where she’d learned it. She couldn’t remember much of anything before the last couple of years, to be honest. But there it was, stuck in her head, so she called on it.

It was a simple melody with a short verse and a chorus. She didn’t even know all the words, but that didn’t matter. She just sang the bit she knew over and over. It was soothing, comforting, and connected her to something, as if stirring a memory. She closed her eyes again, allowing it to wash over her. For the first time in a while, she formed a genuine smile. Not a big smile, mind you, she did have her reputation to think of, after all.

As she neared the third repeat, something happened. She heard a voice in her head, one that contrasted with her own. It was more like a momentary flash of sound, in a language she didn’t recognize. It didn’t make her stop singing; in fact, she wanted to continue. After she sang another verse or two, and she heard it again, like a call across some great gap. But was it far away in the distance? Or maybe in time?

How does that even make any sense?

Intrigued, she kept singing, but lowered her voice so as not to attract any onlookers. It would be just like someone to come up in the middle of it and ruin the whole experience, with their chattiness and insipid curiosity.

As it turned out, she was indeed interrupted, but not by any passersby who should have been minding their own business. In her mind’s eye, she saw a face. The face of an old woman. She had long, disheveled grey-streaked hair, and her complexion was wan and weathered, with dark shadows under her eyes. There was almost something cool about her. The face was obscured, as if peering through a fog, and Moirin couldn’t gauge its intent. She wasn’t imagining it; her imagination was good, but not this good. The woman opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words emerged, and if she were the one speaking those foreign words, Moirin wouldn’t have understood her, anyway.

The old woman smiled, but it was an odd smile, and not really a happy one, more like sinister grin. She seemed to want something from Moirin. The smile grew bigger and stretched to unnatural proportions. Her eyes began to lighten, not just the pupils, but the whole of her eyes, greying at first and then fading into a milky white.

Moirin’s heart raced. She stopped singing and gasped. Whatever this thing was, she wanted nothing to do with it. She tried to open her eyes, but they were heavy, almost as if she’d been drugged. Her ears seemed to close up, and the world around her disappeared. She shook her head and tried to stand up, but just like her eyes, her legs no longer worked. She started to panic and opened her mouth again, not to sing but to scream, shout for help, something. But no sound escaped.

The face sneered at her, perhaps enjoying her helplessness. It became ever more twisted and grotesque and opened its mouth again, almost in mockery of Moirin’s inability to do so. A low-pitched wailing sounded from the old woman, a mournful call that seemed to portend something awful. It rose in pitch and volume to a full-on cry, a tuneless and wordless plaint that sounded like something out of an older time. It shook Moirin to the core, but the more she heard it, the more it seemed to invite her, to draw her in, even to tempt her. Whatever the ill intent of this creature invading her mind, and however frightening its call, Moirin felt oddly at home. She began to surrender to its lure, to its awful and seductive pull.


Author Bio

Tim Rayborn has written an astonishing number of books over the past several years. He lived in England for quite some time and has a PhD from the University of Leeds, which he likes to pretend means that he knows what he’s talking about. His generous output of written material covers topics such as music, the arts, history, the strange and bizarre, fantasy and sci-fi, and general knowledge.

He’s also an acclaimed musician. He plays dozens of unusual instruments that quite a few people of have never heard of and often can’t pronounce. He has appeared on over forty recordings, and his musical wanderings and tours have taken him across the US, all over Europe, to Canada and Australia, and to such romantic locations as Marrakech, Istanbul, Renaissance chateaux, medieval churches, and high school gymnasiums.

He currently lives in Washington state (where it rains a lot), surrounded by many books and instruments, as well as with a sometimes-demanding cat. He is rather enthusiastic about good wines, and cooking excellent food.

Author Website: https://timrayborn.com/

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/timrayborn

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/TimRaybornMusicandWriting

Author Mastodon: https://mastodon.social/@timrayborn

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rayborn.esoterica/

Author Liminal Fiction: https://www.limfic.com/?s=tim+rayborn&search_type=book_search

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Tim-Rayborn/author/B00DWY5J8E

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New Release Blitz! Baby Steps, by Gemma Johns #LGBTQ #FF #Giveaway

Title: Baby Steps

Author: Gemma Johns

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 03/07/2023

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 63800

Genre: Contemporary, contemporary, lesbian, sexual discovery, surrogacy, children, Australia, fake romance

Add to Goodreads

Description

Fiercely independent Belle Andrews can’t quite believe where her life has ended up. Belle and Tash always thought they’d have three children, but after nineteen years and two children together, Tash walked out on her and Belle doesn’t want her heart broken ever again.

Now, two years later, they’ve established a positive co-parenting relationship, and having moved on with their lives, both agree they have no need for the embryos they created together.

Georgia has been trying, unsuccessfully, to get pregnant for many years now. She’s about to give up trying and move on. Her doctor told her that her only hope now is a donor embryo.

Belle expects her embryos are the perfect solution, but she soon learns Australian legislation mandates she can only donate to someone she’s in a relationship with.

Belle might have given up on love, but can she pretend to be in love to give someone their dream? And can Georgia pretend to be in a relationship with a woman to get the end result she’s always dreamt of?

Excerpt

Baby Steps
Gemma Johns © 2023
All Rights Reserved

“I thought Tash had the girls tonight?” Nikki asked quietly so that Cora and Ada wouldn’t hear her.

Belle shook her head. “We did a swap. She had something on tonight, probably with her new girlfriend.” Belle knew she was reinforcing what her best friend Nikki already knew—Belle had well and truly moved on from her nineteen-year relationship.

“She’s really got a new girl?”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Emily, I think she said. I don’t know. It surprised me, because she was so full on with Amanda. I thought they were it. But five minutes after their split, there was a bunch of dates with random women, and now there’s Emily. I really don’t care; it’s none of my business, except for the girls.”

Nikki instinctively looked toward the other room, where Belle’s daughters were going crazy, running and jumping. “What do you mean, except for the girls?”

“You know.” Belle followed Nikki’s gaze. “As long as they’re okay, constantly meeting new women in their other mum’s life. Must be hard.”

“Well, it’s not really constant. Hopefully she’ll stay with this one. She was with Amanda for, what? Two years?”

Belle nodded. “Depends who you listen to, but about that. But that’s half of Ada’s life. It just feels like a lot of change. Anyway, it’s irrelevant to me, and leaves me to date whomever I want.”

Nikki sarcastically stated, “Which you really take advantage of.”

The truth was, Belle had no real desire to date, and although she and Tash had split up over two years ago now, Belle had spent her time focusing on the children. She couldn’t say that Tash didn’t focus on the girls, though. Belle and Tash were fortunate that they managed to co-parent so well together, with very little tension between the two of them. Belle would be lying to say it had always been easy. In the early days, her heart broke every time she dropped the children to Tash. Seeing Tash and Amanda playing happy families just months after her relationship with Tash had ended nearly destroyed her. But, with time and perspective, Belle felt more and more comfortable and sometimes found herself even confiding in Tash at the end of a hard day.

Nikki picked up her plate and empty coffee mug and walked to the sink. “I was going to suggest a movie tonight, because I thought you were footloose and fancy free.”

“Why don’t we watch a movie on Netflix?” Belle asked, and Nikki screwed up her face.

“I suppose. Chances are I’ve seen it.”

Belle knew it was true. Nikki practically lived at the cinema.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Gemma Johns has always loved writing and wanted to write a novel since she first discovered how much she loved reading them. Her older sister told her she needed to ‘live a little’ before she wrote a novel. Years later, Gemma has now lived a lot, so finally decided to put pen to paper. Writing fiction is a part time gig for her, and she has a full time job in academia. Gemma lives in Australia with her wife and their five children. You can find Gemma on Facebook.

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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#NewRelease Love, Lorena, by @AuthorIvyLJames #LGBTQIA+ #Giveaway

Title: Love, Lorena

Author: Ivy L. James

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/18/2022

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 57950

Genre: Contemporary Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, lesbian, bisexual, light romance, royalty, matchmaker, arranged/forced marriage, modern fairy tale, flirting, interracial/intercultural, pets, family drama

Add to Goodreads

Description

Lorena García Fernández has built her matchmaking company, “Love, Lorena,” from the ground up, but her parents refuse to acknowledge the business as legitimate. Hoping to impress them, she travels to Ìovoria to find Crown Prince Callum a match. However, when Callum unexpectedly abdicates, his wild sister, Rosamund, becomes the crown princess and Lorena’s new client.

Lorena knows “Rowdy Rosamund” from the news headlines, but as she helps the princess, she learns there’s more to Rose than her public persona. The two women grow closer with each date Lorena sets up for the crown princess, and Lorena finds herself falling for Rose.

With only a month to find the perfect match, each failure increases the pressure to succeed. How will Lorena choose between her duty and her heart?

Excerpt

Love, Lorena
Ivy L. James © 2022
All Rights Reserved

In her rural Virginia office, Lorena García Fernández bypassed the usual salacious story about the Ìovorian princess and snipped out the article about her business trip. The blades of her scissors slid through the newspaper in long, clean lines, perfectly even on every side. Although she sometimes wondered why Westmoreland County still used physical newspapers, she had to admit it was handy now.

She set the article in its frame and glanced at the front door to see if her second-in-command had arrived. No sign of her, but then again, it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. Cool early-morning sunlight streamed through the windows and glass door. Lorena straightened the clipping, pressed the back of the frame into place, and double-checked how it looked from the front. Flawless. She rose from her chair and hung the article on the wall between two testimonials, neat and level.

Her ginger cat, Amado, rubbed against her ankles before hopping onto the desk, his tail twitching impishly. He wove between two photos of Lorena in Ìovoria—one selfie set in rolling green hills, one in the ancient capital city—and leapt onto the windowsill, where he settled to chirp at a bird.

The lock clicked, and the bell over the front door jingled. In walked Lorena’s best friend and vice president, Natascha Barclave, juggling her purse and several binders overflowing with papers. Her mouse-brown curls were pulled into a french braid but already frizzing around the edges of her freckled face. She reached out with one full hand and flipped the CLOSED sign to OPEN with her pinkie finger. “I’m here, I’m here. And it may not look like it, but I’m fully prepared for the Johnson intake interview at ten.”

“Are those my Wallace-Díaz notes?” Lorena took the binders and set them safely on the welcome desk. “What the hell did you do to them?”

“Chill. Everything’s still in there. It’s just a little, um, messier.” Natascha dropped her purse onto the desk chair. They did their quick secret handshake and bumped fists before getting back to business. “I took Casey Bright home, too, and ran the numbers. We should set her up with Allie Masterson. They were a 90 percent match in the algorithm, and I think they’d get along well.”

Lorena flipped through the Bright binder and found the printout of the results. Promising indeed. “Okay, let’s talk first-date options after my eight o’clock review with Eve Ebron.”

Her work cell rang atop her desk. Lorena snatched up the phone and pressed it to her ear. “Thank you for calling Love, Lorena. This is Lorena. How can I help you?”

“Good morning, love!” The two familiar, Ìovorian-brogued voices sounded far away: Teague and Ailsa Duglass on speakerphone. The two thirtysomething aristocrats talked over each other before Ailsa shushed Teague and asked Lorena, “How’s your first day back in the office? Is the jet lag bad?”

“Not too bad, but I will say I already miss Ìovoria.” She leaned against the desk. “How are y’all?”

“Enjoying the honeymoon you planned for us.” Teague’s smile shone through his voice.

“Thank you again for everything you did, bringing us together,” Ailsa said. “It was all straight out of a fairy tale. I never thought I had a perfect match, but you found him.”

“Think you’ll find that someone special of your own soon?” Teague asked.

Lorena’s throat closed, but she tossed out a blasé “Nah. My to-do list is long enough.” As if she couldn’t be bothered, as if she’d hardly considered it at all. As if her own parents’ brutal divorce hadn’t convinced her long ago love wasn’t in the cards for her. Not now, not ever.

“Not to worry, we won’t hold you up. You’ve plenty of clients to help, I’m sure.” Ailsa paused meaningfully. “We wanted to let you know a little something special is coming your way soon.”

A thank-you card, maybe? If Lorena was lucky, it would include a hefty tip. Running an international matchmaking company wasn’t cheap. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Ailsa corrected her. “I’ve never been happier in my life. You have a gift, you know?”

Lorena’s heart warmed. Nothing felt as good as a satisfied customer.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Ivy L. James wrote her first story on Post-it notes as a child. Since then, she has graduated to regular paper and enjoys writing inclusive, heartwarming romance as a way to counterbalance the negativity in the world. She lives in Maryland with her partner and their corgi, cat, and two snakes.

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Death at Bayard Lodge by Winnie Frolik #NewRelease #LGBTQ+ #Historical #Giveaway #MFRWAuthor

Title: Death at Bayard Lodge

Series: The Mary Grey Mysteries, Book Two

Author: Winnie Frolik

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 09/20/2022

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 67800

Genre: Historical, LGBTQIA+, historical, crime, lesbian, district nurse, private detective, 1930s, country house, death

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Description

When district nurse Mary Grey and her lover Harriet accept an invitation to visit the latter’s godmother in the beautiful Lake District, they’re hoping for a relaxing outing. But from the very start, they find themselves pulled into a web of intrigue, resentments, deceit, and violent passions.

Young newlywed Rachel Florry is found on the lawn with her skull smashed in and there’s no shortage of suspects. From the girl whose fiancée Rachel stole, to a sinister vagrant, to Rachel’s own mystery lover.

Mary calls on her old friend and partner, private detective Franz Shaefer to come down to Bayard Lodge and help solve the case. But as they unearth buried secrets and hidden agendas, they themselves are at risk.

Excerpt

Death at Bayard Lodge
Winnie Frolik © 2022
All Rights Reserved

England
Summer 1937

The horrific events of the previous winter, when the notorious beauty and heiress Harriet West had lost her brother, her uncle, and her fiancé, had yielded one unexpected benefit. She was suddenly free of any and all social obligations. After all, nobody could expect a girl who’d been through such heartache and trauma as Harriet to attend anyone’s coming-out ball or go somewhere for a spot of shooting, much less throw any parties herself. It was perfectly understandable she would wish to keep to herself and see only a few very close friends.

It made perfect sense for her to settle in a flat in the city rather than stay in the Newcastle mansion that was really far too big for one or even two single women. Nor was it so surprising she chose to have a flatmate. Many perfectly respectable unmarried women these days preferred to live with female companions rather than be completely alone. True, that Harriet’s live-in companion, Mary Grey, was a district nurse was rather unusual, but there was little harm in it. And it really was quite a nice little flat, located in a most modern building in a fashionable neighborhood with on-site service. The flat had a tidy little kitchenette and main living area. The plumbing and heating were quite modern and state of the art. Harriet had an excellent time furnishing the place in the Art Deco style, with sleek lines, metallic finishes, and walls hung with photographs and modern art. Some of the experimental abstract pieces Harriet gushed about looked to Mary’s eyes like things a child could have drawn, but it was Harriet’s money. She did at least like one piece: an extraordinarily colorful and vibrant tableau featuring flowers, monkeys, and birds done by some Mexican artist named Frida.

Ahab, the ginger cat Mary had inherited from a deceased patient, settled into his new surroundings quickly and would spend hours sunning himself on the window ledge. The building had a regular charwoman on staff to handle the cleaning. This had at first bothered Mary; unlike Harriet she wasn’t used to being waited on, but as Harriet pointed out, if they didn’t let the woman clean the place, she would be out of a job. And she had both a crippled husband and two children to support. Mary conceded the point. Besides, over time she came to admit it was nice to be able to come home to a neat and tidy space without exerting oneself.

Harriet had purchased a bar trolley which they kept faithfully stocked with her favorite brand of sherry. They had a little icebox, and Mary could whip up the occasional meal. (Harriet was hopeless as a cook and had once started a fire attempting to make toast.) Other times they’d go out to one of the many little cafés in the area where they were becoming steadily known to the point where they could address a number of servers by name.

Occasionally, Mary and Harriet would quarrel over money; the latter did not see why the former insisted on paying her share of the groceries and rent.

“It really isn’t necessary,” Harriet would protest.

“Oh yes, it is,” Mary insisted. “If nothing else to help maintain appearances.” Nor, much to Harriet’s frustration, would Mary allow her to buy her expensive things. But otherwise, theirs was a life of domestic tranquility. For the sake of appearances, they had picked a place with two bedrooms, but in practice only one was ever used. In the early stages of their relationship, there had been considerable confusion, excitement, and laughter in determining how to make their bodies fit together well. Fortunately, Mary had many years’ experience in such matters and had been more than happy to put her knowledge at Harriet’s disposal. The latter had proven a most adept pupil, and together they had achieved new heights of sapphic pleasures. To Mary, it seemed for a time the two of them had created their own little Garden of Eden.

Then came the summons from Mrs. Diana Allenby.

It arrived in a thick blue envelope. A formal engraved document in beautiful calligraphic script addressed to Miss Harriet West. Requesting the pleasure of Harriet’s company at a country house party at Bayard Lodge, held by Mrs. Diana Allenby on the final weekend in August. She was asked to RSVP at once.

‘Well, surely you can just tell them you can’t attend,” Mary reasoned when Harriet handed her the invitation. “You’ve done it before!” For although Harriet had the perfect excuse for not going out, people still invited her. The people in question were to Harriet’s mind a load of vultures who just wanted an excuse to revel in last winter’s scandal. She’d taken grim satisfaction in turning them all down. This, however, was a different thing entirely.

“You don’t understand,” Harriet told her. “Read this.” She passed over a handwritten letter that had been included with the invitation, and Mary dutifully read aloud.

My beloved goddaughter,

At that, Mary looked up. “Wait, is she really your godmother?”

“She is,” Harriet confirmed.

“And I haven’t heard of her?” Mary wondered.

“Well, she stays at her own place most of the time,” Harriet explained, “and I haven’t been down there for ages. But I’ve known her all my life. She and Mother were very close. Indeed, for many years I called her Auntie Di.”

At this Mary involuntarily bit her lip. Given the familial relationship, it would be far harder for Harriet to bung off Mrs. Allenby the way she did others.

I’ve heard you’ve quite dropped out of society these past nine months. Now after all you’ve been through, my poor child, I certainly don’t blame you for wanting your space. But I do worry about you. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you last! As you know, your late mother was like a sister to me, and I have always considered you family as well. And I worry about you, my child. I truly do. It cannot be healthy for you to hide yourself away from the world like some cloistered nun of old.

This, thought Mary, was stretching things a bit. Living in a very nice city flat with a roommate and a cat was hardly a hermitage. Nor did Harriet’s situation with Mary truly resemble that of anything allowed in a convent. At least not any convent Mary had ever heard of! Though, really, who knew what went on behind closed doors? And as Mary knew full well, there was more than one reason for a woman to voluntarily swear off the company of men. It would be an interesting area for ecumenical investigation. She didn’t get the chance to share these musings with Harriet, though, as the latter continued to read aloud.

Which is why, my dear, it would mean so much to me for you to attend this outing. I’ve deliberately kept it to a smaller gathering, and you already know the Florrys.

“Who are the Florrys?” Mary wondered aloud.

“Raymond and Rachel Florry,” Harriet responded. “Raymond works in London at some big banking firm. I’ve seen him at other gatherings, but the one I’m really familiar with is his wife, Rachel. She and I were schoolmates together, along with her cousin Lily.” She paused momentarily as if uncomfortable. “Actually, Lily was with Raymond first. They were even engaged. But then Raymond broke things off at the last minute. Practically left her at the altar. And not long after he started being seen publicly with Rachel. Which of course led to people wondering if something hadn’t happened between him and Rachel while he was still with Lily.”

“Oh my,” Mary commented. “So, Rachel stole her cousin’s fiancé?”

“Apparently. It was quite the scandal at the time. They say Lily had a complete breakdown and hasn’t spoken to either one of them since. Anyway, Rachel and Raymond just got married this past March. I haven’t seen her in ages either.” Harriet looked sad at the thought as Mary read on.

And some other young people as well. The fresh air will do you good and the new cook is superb! And you know there’s not a more beautiful place in England to come visit in autumn than here!

“Well, that’s quite a boast,” Mary observed.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Born and raised in Pittsburgh, the Carnegie Library in Oakland was always my second home. I was diagnosed as being a high functioning autistic in college. I hold a useless double major in English literature and creative writing. I’ve worked at nonprofit agencies, in food service, and most recently as a dog-walker/petsitter but the siren song of writing keeps pulling me back into its dark grip. I have co-authored a book on women in the US Senate with Billy Herzig, self-published The Dog-Walking Diaries, and in 2020 my first novel Sarah Crow was published by One Idea Press. I live in my hometown Pittsburgh with my better half, Smoky the Cat. Find Winnie on Facebook.

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New Release! The Slut Strikes Back: #MILF #Erotica By Lisabet Sarai #HotRead @LisabetSarai

Triple-X MILF Erotica, Happy Ending

27,000 words, 81 pages

Smashwords and Amazon KDP

ISBN (Smashwords): 9781005813741

ASIN: B08CFRJSTM

Anyone

is

Fair

Game

Blurb

“Find someone else to satisfy your needs.”

When her husband complains about her constant sexual demands, MILF Lauren Gordon is shocked and hurt – and determined to act on his instructions.

Lauren has never strayed outside the bounds of her marriage, but now that she has permission, she unleashes her voracious libido on her gorgeous girlfriend next door, the UPS delivery man, and anyone else who strikes her fancy.

Her husband called her a slut in order to shame her. Lauren wears the title with pride. When he comes home to find her gang banging her son’s buddies from the college wrestling team, he realizes he’s made a huge mistake. He wants his slutty wife back. But once you’ve freed the genie, you can’t put it back in the bottle.

If you love wild adventures of wanton women, you’ll love The Slut Strikes Back.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/8791-the-slut-strikes-back-milf-erotica/

Amazon  US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08CFRJSTM

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08CFRJSTM

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1031285

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-slut-strikes-back-lisabet-sarai/1137303515?ean=2940164132507

Kobo –  https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/the-slut-strikes-back-milf-erotica

Add on Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/54428619-the-slut-strikes-back

Online Excerpt

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2020/07/my-latest-erotic-romp-is-available-for.html

EXCERPT

They huddled together, laughing and chatting, obviously good friends. She couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but the lovely, rolling cadence of their speech made her shiver. Shades of Michael Caine and Sean Connery! She’d always found an English accent devastatingly sexy. She squirmed on her leather seat, aware that her minuscule silken panties were well on their way to being soaked.

Nikki set down their single malts, in sparkling crystal glasses. Lauren couldn’t see how much of a tip they gave her, but her broad smile suggested they’d been magnanimous. Crossing one leg over the other, Lauren gave the barkeeper a come-hither gesture. “Another daiquiri, please,” she called.

The two men gazed in her direction, seeming to notice her for the first time. The dark one’s eyebrows shot up as he took in her generous curves, trim thighs and shapely calves. The red-head gave her a wolfish grin. She reached for her glass to drain the last bit of tartness, knowing that the gesture made her breasts shift under her form-fitting dress. Then she leaned over to fiddle with the buckle on her shoe, giving them both a clear view of her sun-tanned cleavage.

None of this was calculated. She wasn’t consciously trying to turn them on. They were watching her; it seemed natural to put on a bit of a show.

The shorter guy waved at Nikki. “Add her drink to our bill, please,” he said, staring straight into Lauren’s eyes.

She liked his boldness. “Why, thank you!” Slipping off her stool, she made her way down the bar, swinging her hips and flipping her long hair back over her shoulder. She settled her butt on the tall chair next to the man with glasses and set her purse on the polished wood surface. “That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s our pleasure.” The dark-haired member of the pair held out his hand. “I’m James.” He had big hands and a powerful grip.

Lauren couldn’t help wondering if he was big everywhere. The erotic potential of this encounter was already clear to her. Her mind running fast-forward, she saw herself sandwiched between these two delightful males. Her pulse jumped and new moisture dampened her already sodden thong.

“Lauren,” she replied, then stopped herself. Should she be using a false name? But why bother? Elliott had called her a slut, and he’d been right. She wasn’t ashamed of who she was. Far from it.

The shorter man licked his lips. “Phillip Worthington,” he said. “At your service.”

She liked that notion. Her vigorous nod caused her unfettered breasts to bounce. Their eyes followed every movement. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I gather you’re visiting LA.”

“We’re here for the IPI conference,” James replied, obviously struggling to look at her face rather than her tits. “Indie Publishers International.”

“Oh! You’re authors?” Brains as well as beauty!

“Phil’s the author.”

“Mysteries and thrillers, mostly,” Phillip added. “As P.J. Worthington.”

“I own a small press in London,” James continued. “Haversham Books. But I don’t imagine you’ve ever heard of us.” He drained his Scotch and signaled to Nikki. “Another round, please.”

“Meanwhile, why don’t you sit between us, Lauren?”  Phillip suggested. “That way we can share you.”

Even with the subdued lighting, Lauren caught the devilish twinkle in his eye. “Lovely idea,” she agreed. They shuffled about, until the two Englishmen bracketed her chair. She gazed from one handsome man to the other, then lifted her third cocktail. “Cheers!”

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, Pinterest, and  Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

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New Release from Lisabet Sarai

It’s 9 PM in Vegas. Do you know your safe word?

If you’re looking for kink, Lisabet Sarai is one of the best – here’s her newest release. M/F? Check. F/F? Check. More? Well, you’ll just have to check it out!

Blurb

Some
people just won’t mind their own business. When an anti-porn terrorist group
shuts down the Sin City Fetish Fair, Larry Archer offers The Fox’s Den as an
alternative venue.  With the assistance
of newly arrived dominant Master Shark, plans for the Den’s very first Kink
Night quickly take shape. Indeed, the denizens of the Den are practicing their
BDSM techniques well before the event.

Blonde,
beautiful and untouched, Patricia Hastings leads the Citizens Resisting
American Perversion in their fight against filth. She’s determined to destroy
the licentious, permissive, anything-but-vanilla strip club – whatever it
takes.  A smidgen of plastic explosive
should do the trick… If only she can resist her attraction to the voluptuous,
red-headed minx Annie, and her own secret craving for surrender.

Caught in the act of sabotage, Patty faces a choice: arrest, scandal and prison, or private punishment at the hands of Master Shark and his horny acolytes. Will C.R.A.P.’s paragon of purity uphold her prudish principles? Or consent to the violations that populate her forbidden fantasies?

Buy Links

Kinky Literature  Amazon  US   Amazon UK  Smashwords   Barnes and Noble   Kobo   Add on Goodreads

X-Rated Excerpt

“Do you want to top me, darling?” Rising to her feet, she shimmied out of her denim skirt and kicked it aside. She stood before him, nude and proud, her ginger curls stirring in the balmy October breeze, sex-juice trickling down the insides of her thighs.

Ted’s cock jumped in approval, though his
face showed confusion. “But you’re such a take-charge girl, Annie. You’re
anything but submissive.”

“Are you sure?” She turned her back to him,
displaying her recently assaulted ass. “Look closely.”

He obeyed, leaning in until she felt his
warm breath on her skin. “Are those marks?” he asked in wonder. “Bruises?” He
traced the fading signs of her afternoon spanking, waking faint echoes of the
pain while stoking the fire of her arousal.

“Inez can be quite fierce at times. A bit
scary.”  Annie pivoted to face him. “But
I trust her. She’s an expert. She senses how much I can bear, and never pushes
me any further.” She leaned over to brush her lips across his. “Or at least,
not much further.” She flashed him a provocative grin.

“But I’m not an expert,” Ted protested.
“Just the opposite.”

“I trust you completely, baby. I trust the
bond between us, the power that first drew us together.” She scanned his
still-worried face. Should she should back off? Perhaps he really wasn’t ready
for this. “But maybe you don’t want to top me.”

 “Oh,
I do.” His voice was almost too soft to hear. “You wouldn’t believe how much.”

Annie sank to her knees on the tiled
balcony floor and bowed her head. “Then take me, Sir. I’m yours.”

“Annie…”

He stood, close enough that his rampant
cock bobbed inches from her mouth. She swallowed a mouthful of saliva at the
notion of tasting him, but restrained herself. She had to let him lead.

“What should I do?”

“Whatever you want, Sir.” She ventured a
glance upward, meeting his eyes, full of carnal hunger and lingering
uncertainty. She couldn’t help licking her lips. “You might, for instance,
begin by fucking my face.”

Ted chuckled, suddenly sounding much more
confident. “Oh! Are you giving me instructions, slave?”

“No, Sir. It was just a suggestion.”

“Well, I have some other thoughts. Don’t move.
I’ll be back.”

He disappeared into the condo, leaving her
kneeling on the cold, hard surface. Arousal zipped through her in a tight
circuit, from her nipples to her clit and back. The heady fragrance of her own
dripping cunt teased her nostrils.

She closed her eyes, trying to slow her
racing pulse, struggling with her almost overwhelming excitement. She might
come just from the thrill of waiting, the knowledge that she’d surrendered all
power to her lover.

The wind rose for a moment, tangling her
hair. Faint traffic noise reached her ears. Her knees hurt. Ted had been gone a
long time, or so it seemed. Did he have second thoughts? Should she go looking
for him?

 She
forced herself to stillness. Patience was a major component of surrender.

“You’re dripping all over the floor, slut!”

Annie started, her heart slamming against
her ribs. With her eyes closed and her focus turned inward, she hadn’t heard
him arrive.

“Clean up your mess,” he ordered.

Trying not to smile at his bossy tone,
Annie bent at the waist. A small pool of cunt-juice had formed between her
spread thighs. She licked up every drop, enjoying the tang of her personal
musk. She was no stranger to the taste of pussy.

When she’d finished her appointed task, she
knelt up, with her hands clasped at the small of her back. Ted reached down to
run a finger over the still-damp tiles, ostensibly to evaluate her work. On his
way up, he swiped the finger through her soaked sex-folds.

Annie gasped as a storm of pleasure raged
through her. She’d been close to climax simply from contemplating her own
submission. His touch pushed her to the very edge. She teetered there,
struggling for control.

He
seized a hank of her hair and raised her face to his. “You don’t come unless I
tell you to. You know that, right?”

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Midweek Tease: More Brides in Vegas, by Lisabet Sarai @lisabetsarai #erotica #MFRWAuthor #MWTease



Welcome to MidWeek Tease, where authors share tempting snippets to tide you over till the weekend. A huge shout out to author Angelica Dawson for hosting our blog hop every week!

Today’s tease comes from the inventive erotic pen of Lisabet Sarai!

Tying the knotwith no strings attached!

EXCERPT

Bent over her phone and concentrating on her list, she was startled when a pair of strong arms slid around her waist and a warm mouth nuzzled her ear.

“How’s my beautiful bride?”  Ted licked his way down the side of her neck, making her shiver, then turned her head so he could plant a kiss on her mouth.

“Much better, now that the groom is back!” She melted into his arms, offering him a more convenient angle. Ted kissed like an angel. For long moments, Annie dwelt in heaven.

“Everything go all right?” she asked, when he finally released her.

“Like clockwork, except that I missed you.” Tedpalmedherbreaststhroughherthintop,histhumbscirclinghernipples.Hernubssnappedtoattention.Pushingtheshirtuptoherarmpits,hebenttosucklethetenderbuds,makingthemharderstill.Hedraggedherhandtohisbulgingcrotch.

“See? I need to be inside you, Annie-belle. Right now.”

“We don’t have time, baby,” she protested, even as he shimmied her shorts down her shapely legs. “The guests—”

“Are coming for our wedding, Annie.” He hoisted her up so she was sitting on the dining table and spread her thighs. “This weekend is about us. Our love. Everything else comes second.”  Leaning in, he took a lungful of her musky scent. “You’re turned on, don’t pretend you’re not. You want me.”

“Of course I want you—oh!”  Her fiancé’stongueleftatrailoffireashesweptitthroughherfolds.

“Oh, god, that feel’s so good! Oh, Ted…!” Her lover burrowed deeper into her snatch, licking and biting, driving her crazy. “Ted—the glass doors—anyone could be watching!”

“Let ‘em watch,” he replied, tearing open his fly to release his pulsing erection. Positioning himself in the V of her legs, he drove his cock into her juicy cunt in one smooth, glorious motion.

Annie sighed with bliss as he stretched her wide. He felt incredible. No slow starts for her Ted. Right away he was pounding her pussy like a jackhammer, with a force that made her toes curl. Resting on her elbows, she opened herself to his fierce thrusts.

God, she loved the way he fucked her! She remembered the first time, in the VIP quarters at The Fox’s Den. She’d wanted him the minute she stepped onto the stage and saw him seated at the edge, his eyes following her every move. Sure, she had entered the Amateur Night contest hoping to win one of the generous prizes, to help cover her university tuition, but once Ted appeared, he was all she thought about. She’d danced for him only, to seduce him, to win him. She could see he was shy and a bit nerdy, with his glasses, clean-shaven cheeks and neatly clipped hair. Well, Annie knew how to get a guy hot. In her debut performance as a stripper, she’d used every trick she could think of.

Not that Ted really needed encouragement, once they were alone. He’d plunged his fine cock deep into her hungry cunt and ravaged her just the way she liked. Even when it turned out they weren’t exactly alone—Franny and Jake, Laura and Steve, Chantal and Foxy, even fusty old Aunt Giulia had ended up in carnal clinches in the VIP suite that crazy night—Ted hadn’t stopped fucking her until she’d climaxed four times. Only then did he roar and fill her with his cum.

Atruegentleman,herTed.Withaverytalentedcock.

He continued to ram into her body, which was draped at the perfect height on the sturdy dinette table. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she held on, gripping his wonderful cock with her inner muscles. Ted growled—she knew he loved that—and pumped even faster.

An orgasm shimmered on her horizon, glittering with promise. Tightness gathered in her pelvis. Her clit ached; she needed friction. Arching up, she ground herself against his body, forcing his cock even deeper.

Yes! He slammed into her. She clenched down as cataclysms of pleasure shook her, starting deep in her belly and rippling out to her extremities. The climax went on and on, aftershocks rumbling through her one after another. Her lover continued to plow her shuddering pussy as the last echoes died away. Finally he jerked, yelled and poured his spunk into her twitching hole.

Ted slumped down on top of her, panting. She let her legs flop onto the table and slipped her arms around his neck, pulling his head to her breasts. He was too tired to lick them, but his warm breath soothed her.

“I love you,” she told him, running her fingers through his hair. “And you were right. That was just what I needed to relax.”

“Mmm,” he answered, burying his face in her ample tits. For long minutes they lay there, sated and content, in a world of their own.

Online Excerpt: http://www.lisabetsarai.com/morebridesex.html 

 

New Release!

More Brides in Vegas

Vegas Babes Book 2

FF and MM Erotica (Triple X rated)

32,000 words

Smashwords and Amazon KDP

ISBN (Smashwords): 9780463187715

ASIN: B07DYPQ57T

HEA for everyone!

With an introduction by Larry Archer 

BLURB

Who can resist love at first sight? The minute Ted saw Annie shedding her clothes on stage at The Fox’s Den, he fell head over heels for the petite, busty redhead. She had to make the first move, though, dragging him into an impromptu orgy in the Den’s VIP suite, along with technically-virgin bride Francesca, secret slut Laura, and hot black mama Chantal.

Now Annie and Ted are getting married, and they’ve invited all their friends from that wild Amateur Night to the party. Taking over a vintage eighties motel with a courtyard and pool for their private function, the bride and groom expect a certain amount of carnal excess. Still, nobody’s prepared for the sexual free-for-all that breaks loose, involving not only the gals from the Den but also Annie’s rock star brother, Ted’s MILF mother, Chantal’s new slave girl, a lascivious hippie couple, a susceptible priest, the butch hotel manager, and an entire Scottish rugby team. As the wedding guests act out their secret fantasies, they push the limits of both lust and love. Finally arriving at the altar, after an exhausting, arousing twenty four hours, Annie and Ted realize that tying the knot doesn’t have to mean tying themselves down.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature: http://kinkyliterature.com/book/4374-more-brides-in-vegas-vegas-babes-book-2/

Amazon  US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DYPQ57T

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07DYPQ57T

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/844220

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/more-brides-in-vegas-lisabet-sarai/1128957058?ean=2940155308614

Kobo –  https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/more-brides-in-vegas-vegas-babes-book-2

Add on Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40615243-more-brides-in-vegas 

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 – nearly 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 and finally, on Twitter.

 

~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~

Be sure to check out the rest of the Midweek teases
from these marvelous authors:

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Guest Lisabet Sarai: Burn, Baby: A Sapphic Six Pack @LisabetSarai #MFRWAuthor #LGBT #FF



Six-alarm lesbian lust

Blurb


Desire burns hot in these six sizzling tales by Lisabet Sarai. A high-powered executive and a Goth rocker collide on a rainy Manhattan night and succumb to the attraction of opposites. An  unorthodox therapist rekindles the libido of a traumatized fire-fighter.  A nun fights her forbidden lust for the voluptuous hooker resident at her women’s shelter. Burn, Baby includes many of Lisabet’s lesbian favorites as well as a searing, shocking new tale, “Countertransference”.

 

Approximately 26,000 words (75 pages)
Genre: Lesbian erotica – short stories
Heat level: Explicit (5 flames)
ISBN (Smashwords): 9780463292082
ASIN (Amazon):  B07DMYQCH9

Buy Links

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DMYQCH9

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07DMYQCH9

Smashwords:  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/838852

Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/burn-baby-lisabet-sarai/1128902422?ean=2940155289302

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40532328-burn-baby

ONLINE EXCERPT LINK (X rated): http://www.lisabetsarai.com/herowndevicesex.html

Excerpt

From “The First Stone”

“You’re kinda pretty, for a nun.”

The voice was low and throaty, laced with echoes of the ghetto.  It dragged me away from the columns of figures marching down the screen in front of me, out of the well-ordered realm of accounting and into the messiness of our inmates’ lives. Our guests, I corrected myself. Nobody was forced to stay at Serenity House.

“Um — excuse me? Can I help you?”

My interlocutor grinned at me. Her plump, mauve-painted lips framed teeth that were a shocking white in her ebony face. She shook her head. Cheap, brassy earrings dangled from her fleshy lobes, swinging back and forth over her bare shoulders.

“Just wanted to say hi. Oh, an’ to ask if I can stay out past curfew tonight. Heard you were in charge.” She extended a hand tipped with hot pink fingernails. “I’m Magnolia. Me and Moonbeam just got here yesterday.”

November in Boston, two weeks before Thanksgiving, but Magnolia’s skin felt August-hot. The woman’s breasts almost overflowed the sequined tube top that constrained them. Below, she wore baggy sweatpants with a Celtics logo that didn’t hide her more than ample curves. Her feet were crammed into open-toed high heels of scuffed gold-toned plastic. She towered over me. I felt pretty sure that would be true even if I were standing.

“Moonbeam?” Confronted by this apparition, I couldn’t seem to manage more than a couple of words.

“My kid.” Magnolia indicated a diminutive toddler with kinky pigtails, sprawled on the floor of the common room, surrounded by alphabet blocks. Hard to believe that delicate child was the offspring of this Amazon.

“Ah — um — well, you’re very welcome here, Magnolia. We’re glad to have you with us.” I struggled for the warm yet professional manner I’d learned to adopt with our guests. Rising from my chair, I gave her hand a firm squeeze before relinquishing it. My skin tingled in the aftermath. I’d been right; she stood half a head taller than my five feet six inches, and probably weighed nearly twice what I did. “Have a seat, please. I’m Sister Kathleen Patrick, the assistant director. But I guess you know that.”

She settled her bottom into the chair I’d indicated. “Yeah, the other gals told me. Pleased to meet you, Sister.” Her plucked eyebrows knotted into a frown. “That what I should call you? I ain’t had much experience with nuns.”

Her obvious concern made me chuckle. “’Sister’ would be fine. Or you can just call me Kathleen. We don’t stand on ceremony here at Serenity House.”

“Not like at Baystate Rehab. You forget to call one of the nurses ‘Miz’ or ‘Mister’, you lose privs for twenty-four hours.” She swiped the back of her hand across her brown forehead, which was beaded with sweat. The woman must have a furnace inside.

There was something lush and tropical about Magnolia. Her name fit her. She seemed totally out of place in this shabby office lit by the unrelenting gray of the late autumn sky. I could imagine her wrapped in a rainbow-hued sarong, dancing barefoot on a beach beneath swaying palms. Or swimming naked through the waves under a golden moon…

I hauled my thoughts back to the present. “Is that where you’ve just come from?” Not all our guests had substance abuse problems, but it was pretty common.

“Escaped is more like it.” She giggled. “This place’s like heaven after Bayhab. Six fucking weeks — oh, sorry, Sister — I mean, six long weeks in that hellhole! Away from my baby, too.  ‘Course, I deserved it. All the junk I pumped into my veins, not thinkin’ about who’d care for her if something happened to me. Then the OD — I really fucked up. Oh, I’m sorry, Sister!”

“Never mind. So you’ve made yourself comfortable, then? You’re happy with your room?”

Yesterday had been my day off. Rachel must have done the intake. I reminded myself to check Magnolia’s file after she’d left the office.

“It’s great. I’m sharing with Lou-Ellen and her little boy. He’s only a couple months older than Moonbeam.  Food’s good, too.” She flashed me another grin and glanced down at her generous body. “Not that I need it!”

Her laughter kindled mine. Our eyes met. Hers were espresso-brown, practically black, fringed with mascara-augmented lashes. They snagged me like magnets.

Something jolted through me — a lightning strike, a sudden storm, some personal earthquake. The floor dropped out from under my chair and I found myself suspended in space. My breath caught in my throat and perspiration soaked the armpits of my gray wool sweater. I’d been chilly before — we tried to stretch our donor’s generosity as far as possible — but now I burned. I couldn’t tear myself away from her gaze, though I knew I’d been staring far too long.

 

About Lisabet Sarai

 

LISABET SARAI writes in many genres, but F/F fiction is one of her favorites. Her lesbian erotica credits include contributions to Lambda Award winner Where the Girls Are, Ippie-winning Carnal Machines, Best Lesbian Romance 2012, Forbidden Fruit: Stories of Unwise Lesbian  Desire,  and Lammy-nominated Coming Together: Girl on Girl. Her story “The Late Show” appears in the recently released Best Lesbian Erotica 2015.

 

Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her explicit literary endeavors. She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her writing. For all the dirt on Lisabet, visit her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).

 

 

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