Another Sapphic Adventure – #HistoricalRomance #LGBTQ

My new lesbian scifi romance Free Fall is doing really well (at least by my standards). Perhaps I have underestimated the size of the Sapphic market!

With that in mind, I’m sharing a scene from another of my FF titles, By Moonlight. This historical love story is a riff on one of my favorite poems, “The Highwayman” by Alfred Noyes. Unlike the poem, though, my story has a happy ending.

Enjoy!

Blurb

She risked all, loving an outlaw – especially a woman

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.

Excerpt

Hours past midnight, the village slept, dappled in silver moonlight and inky shadow. Bess kept watch at her bedroom window, lost in a waking dream. The breeze freshened as dawn grew closer. Occasional gusts sent clouds scudding across the sky like sheep before an impatient shepherd. The full moon sailed high above the moors, sometimes revealed, sometimes obscured by a veil of wind-tossed mist.

The road wound away from the village into the purple distance. She watched and waited, waited and hoped, strained her ears for the clip-clop of hooves that would mean her lover had finally arrived.

Her hair hung loose, nearly to her waist. When it stirred in the rising wind, she imagined long, sure fingers combing through the jet-black tresses, easing out the tangles, flinging the luxurious waves back over her shoulders to bare her breasts. The first time, she’d blushed and hung back, but now she raised them proudly to her lover’s lips. Under her shift, the nipples were already round and hard as river-polished pebbles. The river itself flowed between her thighs, as she pictured how she’d be taken, used and cherished by the gallant bandit who had stolen her heart.

Warmed by lush memory, Bess kept her solitary vigil in the chill October night. The moon sank lower. The stars paled. Yet still that ribbon of darkness remained empty. Had Kit been captured? Or injured? Could her beloved even now be lying in a ditch, chest sliced open by some poxy lord’s dagger?

Bess had stopped believing in God when the fever took her mother, but she prayed anyway.

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. “Now you,” she urged. She reached for the brass buttons, fumbling in her eagerness.

Kit chuckled. “Little minx! You’ll be all night at that.” In the space of a few breaths, the showy waistcoat and soft breeches lay crumpled atop the boots. Barefoot, Kit stood with hands on hips and legs sturdily apart, wearing nothing but the long, loose, ruffled shirt. The white linen was startling against sun-darkened flesh. The gallant intruder flashed a saucy grin.

“Pray do not tease!” Bess moaned. “’Twill be morning all too soon.” She settled onto the bed and spread her legs to release a flood of her scent. “Please, my love.”

The outlaw slipped out of the shirt and discarded it with her other clothing. Kit’s small, firm breasts were tipped with earth-colored nipples as tight and hard as Bess’s own. Moisture beaded the triangle of amber-hued curls that nestled between her lean thighs.

Still, the older woman held back for a moment. Perhaps she was enjoying the sight of the formerly chaste innkeeper’s daughter turned wanton, writhing upon the sheets and exposing her wet cunny.

Bess didn’t care how she looked. “Kiss me,” she pleaded. “Touch me, Kit, before I die of longing.”

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

A little dose of reality and a whole lot of imagination – #CrimeFiction #Italy #Giveaway

Lisabet Sarai: Welcome to Beyond Romance, Mark, and thanks for sharing a bit about your new novel. When I read about your tour, I wondered whether there really was a Bologna massacre. If so, what prompted you to base a novel on this event? If not, where did the whole idea come from?

Mark Hill: In 2019, I was teaching a group of judges and ex-judges in Bologna. It was one of those state sponsored courses that certain Italian institutions organise for privileged social groups, and during those lessons, we started to talk about the Bologna massacre of 1980. In that year, there was a bombing of Bologna Central railway station, which killed 85 people and injured over 200. At 10.25 explosives, which were concealed in an apparently unattended suitcase, were detonated in a waiting room of Bologna station. This explosion destroyed a wall and consequently caused the roof to collapse, destroying most of the building. The Ancona-Chiasso train, which was at rest on Platform 1, was impacted.

Being the summer time, Italy was on holiday, unprepared for a disaster of this type. Countless passers-by and travellers provided first aid and help to victims who were buried beneath the rubble. With so many casualties, there were not enough ambulances available. Therefore, private citizens and emergency services used taxis, buses and private cars to take the victims to the hospitals. Italy closes in the summer! Many hospital departments were on holiday at that time of year. They had to be reopened to accommodate those that had been injured in the blast.

It was Italy’s most serious terrorist attack. Several members of the neo-fascist terrorist organization Nuclei Armati Rivoluzionari (NAR, Armed Revolutionary Nuclei) were subsequently sentenced for the bombing. Further investigations revealed that members of the P2 Masonic lodge and the secret society Propaganda due were behind the attack. Throughout the investigations, elements within the secret services provided several false leads, depistaggi, which created further uncertainty surrounding what had actually happened. We still do not know who was actually responsible.

I did a deep dive through YouTube watching the television news reels from that time, I did some reading around the subject, making sure that all of my reading was in Italian. I read Morando’s “La Strage di Bologna” and “Dossier Strage di Bologna” by Parisi et al. a couple of times. I read up about other terrorist events that occurred around that time in Italy. I decided that the whole period was so compelling and there were so many conspiracy theories that revolved around it, that there was probably enough material for a novel; I think I was right.

With a little dose of reality and a whole lot of imagination, I started writing. I created the classic private investigator character, the villain, Carlos the Jackal, the corrupt Italian politician couldn’t go amiss. Who’s not going to identify with that? A little bit of love interest and off I went.

I disciplined myself to recount a straightforward narrative in chronological order, with a basic structure, using simple ideas and style. It is an attempt to narrate events in a more disciplined way than I had in the past, trying to eradicate any complex descriptive passages in a more high-flown poetic style. When I edited and it sounded like I was showing off, I just eliminated the offending paragraph and rewrote it as I actually perceived it, like I saw it happening step by step.

Recently I have been reading in public from the book here in Italy. I have had to go back to the two books I mentioned before and read up on the actual events of that time. People here in Italy are understandably still interested in trying to understand what went on in that period of Italian history. Although the book is 95% pure fiction, I believe that people have appreciated my interest in the subject. Moreover, the public have been willing to offer questions about my motivation in writing the book, still keen to interpret and understand what actually went on that day.

Blurb

Mitchell Rose and the Bologna Massacre is a crime story that explores the last fifty years of cross-fertilisation between the Italian criminal underworld, its secret services, politics and the judicial system.

When Mitchell Rose is called to Milan by Remo Rhimare, a local judge who wants him to investigate the Bologna bombing of 1980, he knows it would make more sense to turn the job down.

To make things even more complicated, Rhimare also wants Rose to rein in his errant daughter, who is becoming increasingly wayward.

As Rose begins to investigate, the two missions surprisingly become one, culminating in a dreadful dramatic climax.

Excerpt

I was just turning to leave the study when Remo caught me by the arm, causing me to turn and face him.

“There was one other thing.”

“What’s that, Remo?”

“My daughter.”

“Benedetta?” I queried. “Don’t worry about her, she looks like she’s grown up just fine and if she’s lonely any time, I can always give her a call.”

“Not Benedetta.” He shot me a look that was meant to discourage my interest, but only stoked the fires. “Clara.”

“Clara?”

“Yes, my other daughter. She’s not at all like Benedetta. In fact, I’m afraid she may be passing over to the wild side.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

“Well, she isn’t working and she isn’t studying, but she always seems to have money to hand and she spends it like it’s going out of fashion. I’d just like to know where it’s coming from and where it’s all going.”

“So, you’re asking me to sit in on a local terrorist and do some babysitting, see where your little girl spends her days?”

“And her nights; sometimes she doesn’t even come home.”

“I’ll see what I can do. What’s the priority call on these two things?”

“Equal priority, Mitchell. Here’s a copy of her I.D. She normally leaves the house early in the morning before we get up and doesn’t come back till late.”

I continued toward the door and when I opened it, I found Benedetta waiting outside. She accompanied me to the main gate, her head bowed low to the ground. I noticed that the two workers I had seen before were now busy rigging up a state-of-the-art alarm system. I nodded a goodbye in their direction and motioned to leave. They ignored me, preferring to meddle with the wires, the filaments that triggered power.

About the Author

Mark is a novelist, poet, translator and English teacher. He has lived in Cagliari, Italy for 33 years.

His poetry has been published in The UK Poetry Library’s Top Writers of 2012 and the Live Canon 2013 Prize Anthology. In 2016, one of his poems was commissioned, published and performed at The Victoria and Albert Museum, London, for the anniversary of hakespeare’s death. In 2024, he was published by Pierian press, Dreichmag, Cerasus press and Southlight 36 edition. In 2025, he has been published in the Penumbra Journal of Literature, Rituals, Art at California State University Stanislaus, Book of Matches and And Other Poems.

He is the winner of the Azerate poetry prize and his debut poetry collection, “Death and the Insatiable” was published in September 2025. https://hiddenhandbooks.com/azerate-poetry-prize His first novel, Mitchell Rose and The Bologna Massacre, was published by Wallace Publishing in July 2025.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mark.hill.3192

Twitter: https://x.com/MarkAHill172207

Web https://www.wallacepublishing.co.uk/mark-a-hill.html

Buy Links

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mitchell-Rose-Bologna-Massacre-Mark/dp/B0FCMWCW9M

Amazon USA: https://www.amazon.com/Mitchell-Rose-Bologna-Massacre-Mark-ebook/dp/B0FC8NBRLW

Amazon De: https://www.amazon.de/-/en/Mitchell-Rose-Bologna-Massacre-Mark/dp/B0FCMWCW9M/re

Amazon It: https://www.amazon.it/Mitchell-Rose-Bologna-Massacre-Mark/dp/B0FCMWCW9M

Mark A. Hill will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner.

Join us for Charity Saturday, 30 November 2025 #CharitySundaySignup #Altruism #Marketing

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

Since 2017, I’ve been devoting the last Sunday in each month to a post which features some worthy cause. Often, other bloggers join me in this effort, turning the event into a blog hop. This month’s Charity Sunday blog hop will take place on the 30^th of November. I’m posting the sign-up a bit early this month because I’ll be away next week.

Charity Sunday is a meme designed to give authors and bloggers a chance to give back to the world, as well as to attract new readers.

How does it work? Each participant selects a favorite charity. Before the date, you should prepare a blog post that: 1) talks about the charity and why you support it; 2) provides a link to the charity; 3) includes an excerpt from one of your books; 4) includes the code to show links to other participating blogs.

It’s fun if you can make the excerpt relate somehow to your chosen charity, but this isn’t required.

For every comment left on your post, you commit to giving some amount to the relevant charity. The specific charity and the amount to donate are up to you. You can set an upper limit to your donation if you want.

If you’d like to participate in the next Charity Sunday on November 30th, sign up using the Linky List below. Please be sure that the link you enter will lead directly to your Charity Sunday post, not just to the home page of your blog.

Please download the Charity Sunday banner for 2025!

https://www.lisabetsarai.com/2025CharitySundayBanner.jpg

For an example post, check out this link from my last Charity Sunday:

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2025/10/charity-sunday-any-one-of-us-could.html

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How can she choose? #Polyamory #BDSM #MFRWHooks

Welcome to this week’s MFRW Book Hooks blog hop!

Today I’m featuring an excerpt from my polyamorous romance Sharing Leah. It’s not a Thanksgiving story, but it does channel my memories of New England in Autumn.

Enjoy!

Blurb

How can she choose between her husband and her master?

Some women might think Leah's existence heavenly – shared by two sexy men who both adore her. Ten years married to lusty, artistic Daniel, she still finds ecstatic release in surrendering to her master Greg.

But Daniel’s and Greg’s jealousy and possessiveness have made Leah's life a hell. They bring out the worst in each other. And in some sense, it’s all her fault. If she loved only one of them, if she made a choice, that would be that. In theory, at least.

Unable to bear the continuous conflict, she escapes to the beautiful Maine coast to ponder her future. Gradually she realizes that she cannot live without either of her lovers. But if the two men can't settle their differences, how can she bear to live with them?

The Hook

The Captain’s Table opened onto to First Street, but the dining room and cocktail lounge were cantilevered out over the water on pilings. Wonderful smells welcomed her as she stepped through the door into the low-ceilinged room. The uneven planks under her feet and the huge beams above her head made it feel as though she were on a ship. Starched white cloths, crystal goblets and candles on each table provided an elegance to offset the rough nautical ambience.

She decided that she didn’t want to sit at a table alone, so she settled herself on a stool at the brass-trimmed bar, ordering baked haddock and a glass of Pinot Grigio.

What would Greg and Daniel do for dinner? It was her night to cook. She ordered a second drink when her meal arrived. Well, too bad. Let them eat take out.

The fish was delicious, moist and flavorful. She savored every bite. Finally, she pushed her plate away with a satisfied sigh. She was considering whether she should request yet another wine, when a new glass appeared magically before her. “From the gentleman at the end of the bar,” the barman told her. “With his compliments.”

Leah peered in the direction indicated. There were several groups of customers in the way. Business had picked up since she had arrived.

Noticing her gaze, her benefactor picked up his own drink and strode to her end of the bar.

“May I join you?” he asked. He towered over her, looking down at her breasts with an expression of frank appreciation. Leah found that she was blushing. His nostrils flared. She wondered whether he could smell the musk, leftover from her dream.

“Ah—of course. Thank you for the wine.”

“You’re very welcome.” The stranger seated himself on the stool beside her. He had dark, thick hair and a mustache that reminded her of Daniel’s, but he was more solidly built—actually, rather like Greg. His clothes were casual, the Maine uniform of plaid flannel and denim. Still, she heard culture and education in his voice, none of the twang of a Down Easter. “I couldn’t help wondering what a beautiful woman like you was doing eating all alone.”

“Oh—um—I’m up here working. I just decided to come out and take a break.” She couldn’t figure out why she felt so flustered. She sipped her wine, trying to calm her racing heart. “I’m married.” She held up her left hand as if to prove her statement.

“So I see. If I were your husband, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.”

Cheeky bastard, Leah thought. Still, she felt herself getting wet.

“Well, he trusts me. To be faithful.” She sat up straight on her stool and held the man’s eyes, trying to get control of the situation. “And I am.”

“I don’t doubt it. More’s the pity.” He took a mouthful of his drink, which smelled like whisky, and patted her knee in a proprietary manner that once again reminded her of Greg. “Don’t worry, I won’t try to tempt you.”

Like hell you won’t, she thought. But she felt her nipples tighten anyway.

His hand moved casually up her thigh. “I’m Roger.”

“Leah.” He held her hand a few seconds longer than was customary. She fought down her arousal.

“So, what kind of work do you do, Leah?”

“I’m an editor for a major magazine.” She couldn’t pretend, with this man, that she was a novelist. He seemed to see right through her.

“And your husband?”

“A musician. A composer.” Why should this guy care about Daniel anyway?

“An intellectual, artistic family. I imagine that you’re very compatible. How long have you been married?”

“Ten years. I’m very happy with him.” Leah heard insincerity in her voice. But she truly was happy. She loved Daniel dearly. It was only the constant conflict between Daniel and Greg that wore away at her contentment.

“I congratulate you.” There was a challenge in Roger’s eyes. What did he want from her?

Leah drained the rest of her wine. She suddenly felt a bit tipsy. “Thank you.” She wanted to stand up, to bring this embarrassing conversation to an end, but discovered that her legs were wobbly.

“It’s so important to have someone. Someone who can fulfill all your needs.”

She tried to rise again, succeeding this time. She signaled for her check. “Yes, well, you know—I actually have another lover as well.” Roger’s look of surprise emboldened her. She grinned mischievously. “He lives with us. With my husband and me.”

“Really? How fascinating!” He arched one dark eyebrow. Clearly he wasn’t expecting this from her.

“It is, actually. They share me.”

“In the same bed?” She couldn’t believe how rude he was. She put on a demure expression.

“No—not usually. Greg likes to have me to himself. So he can tie me up and beat me.”

“Leah, I am truly impressed.” Now that she had taken the offensive, Roger looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“And Daniel would be happy to spend all day licking my pussy.”

“But of course…” Her would-be seducer obviously realized that he was out of his depth.

Leah signed the credit card receipt with a flourish. She held out her hand. “Thanks again for the wine, Roger. It’s been a pleasure talking to you.”

She flounced out of the restaurant without waiting for his reply, shaking with silent laughter.

I’m too drunk to drive, she realized once she was out on the sidewalk. Damn. She wanted to get back to her cabin, to shower and bury her worries in sleep, but she’d have to wait. She headed back to the wharf, taking deep breaths of salty night air to clear her head.

It was cold down by the water. Leah zipped up her jacket and hugged her arms to her chest. A mist hung over the water, swaddling the boats tied up at the dock, though the sky was clear overhead. The waning moon glittered against the star-studded velvet backdrop, sharp as a scythe.

What exactly had happened back there, at the restaurant? Desire, certainly—the man had been attractive, all the more so because of his resemblance to both her lovers. But also defiance. Rebellion. Leah was so tired of trying to please self-centered, egotistical males. Perhaps the real solution was for her to strike out on her own.

 Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today's Book Hooks!

 

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Sizzling Sunday: Free Fall – #LGBTQ #99Cents #SizzlingSunday

I haven’t done a Sizzling Sunday post for quite a while. My new release Free Fall includes a number of incendiary scenes. Most of the promo, though, has been PG.

So I thought I’d share one of the steamier passages from this lesbian science fiction romance.

By the way, the book will be part of the IHeartSapphFic dark romance reading challenge next week. As part of this event, the price will drop from $3.99 to only 99 cents – starting on Monday!

Blurb

Welcome to Xanadu. For its elite customers, a space-based paradise of pleasure. For the slaves who work there, hell orbiting Earth.

Innocent and inexperienced, Mariel Linderman sells herself to Xanadu to rescue her farming family from starvation. Streetwise Rain Delgado accepts assignment as a Pleasure Rep in lieu of a prison sentence for murder. In a world that strictly prohibits same-sex relations, the passion that flares between them brings terrible risks. Their unexpected heart-and-soul connection turns their already precarious existence into a clandestine struggle for survival.

Sizzling Snippet

Skin-to-skin contact is the fuse that ignites Mariel’s desire. Her nipples tighten into aching knots. Her pussy lips swell and grow damp. Mashing her breasts against Rain’s chest, she melts into the other woman’s embrace. Rain is a few inches taller. Mariel rubs her mons against a muscular thigh as Rain digs her fingernails into Mariel’s ass and plunders her mouth.

She moans and squirms, a climax already spiraling up from her center. Pressure builds in her pelvis. At the last minute, though, Rain breaks their lip lock and takes half a step back.

Mariel moans her disappointment.

“There’s no rush, babe.” Her lover grins, then flicks a thumb across one throbbing nipple.

Mariel grabs the woman’s hand. “Don’t tease. I can’t stand it.” She tugs at the top of her dress, sending buttons flying, then drags Rain’s palm to her bared breast. “Make love to me. I can’t wait any longer.”

Rain extricates herself from Mariel’s grip. Threading her fingers through Mariel’s blonde locks, she brushes them back and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s not hurry, for once. We’ve got two whole hours.”

“What do you mean? How do you—oh! The special request!”

A smug smile graces Rain’s lush mouth as she nods. “Take off the dress and lie down on the bed. Arms over your head. Eyes closed.”

Mariel races to comply, doing further damage to her costume. She’ll have to tell Eleanor that the client ripped it off. Naked, on her back, with her knees bent and her thighs spread, she waits in the warm darkness for Rain to join her.

It seems to take forever. She hears the rustle of synthetic fabric, the soft thud of shoes kicked into a corner, then the slide of the drawer in the bedside table. There’s a shift in the distribution of weight as Rain climbs onto the bed and crawls up next to her. Mariel catches a whiff of her lover’s rich, earthy scent. Need flashes through her like summer lightning.

“Don’t move, babe,” Rain murmurs. “Just feel.”

Fingertips make delicate patterns on Mariel’s breasts, whorls and curlicues converging ever so slowly toward the sensitive tips. Rain barely touches her, but leaves a trail of sparks wherever her fingers travel.

“You’ve got gorgeous tits, babe. I want to eat you up.”

Mariel gasps as wet heat engulfs her nipple. Liquid lust gushes through her, pooling in her sex and dribbling out to coat her thighs. Rain suckles her, pulling hard on the swollen flesh. At the same time, those devilish fingers trace a line from the hollow of her throat down to her belly.

Her hips snap up involuntarily. Her clit burns like a live coal. From the waist down she’s on fire.

“Oh, Rain…”

Her partner switches her attention to Mariel’s other nipple, leaving the first so tender that she can feel every shift in the air. Her eyes still closed, her fingers tangled in Rain’s hair, Mariel tries to urge that clever mouth down toward the raging inferno between her legs.

“Hands. Over your head.”

“Oh, sorry…”

Teeth nip at the recently abandoned nub.

“Ow!”

“Be a good girl and let me take charge.” Rain gives the nipple a sharp pinch. “You’ll get your chance later.” Without warning, she straddles Mariel’s body to knead both breasts with firm hands, crushing the swollen nipples against her palms. Those amazing sensations are soon supplanted by the feeling of Rain’s tongue, licking a juicy path along Mariel’s cleavage, across her abdomen and down to her navel.

Delicious, yes, but much, much too slow! Mariel is desperate to have that nimble tongue rooting in her pussy and flicking her clit, driving her over the edge to release. She knows she has to be patient, though. Rain has a stubborn streak. She may be perverse enough to stop entirely if Mariel tries to force the issue.

So Mariel endures exquisite torture as her lover takes a leisurely trip down to the gulf between her thighs. The knot in her pelvis winds tighter with each teasing lick. Above her head, her hands clutch the sheets. Below, she’s reduced to a helpless puddle of want.

 

Find all the buy links on my website: https://www.lisabetsarai.com/freefallbook.html

He’s everything I swore to avoid -- #SteamyRomance #BillionaireRomance #FiveFlameRead

Blurb

I built my life on control, both in the courtroom and the bedroom. Billionaires and bad boys? I don’t do arrogance. Then Alistair Scott walked in. A dangerously hot single dad with a killer smile, a body made for sin, and secrets darker than desire itself. He’s everything I swore to avoid: wealthy, powerful, untouchable.

But our chemistry is instant. Addictive. Explosive. All my rules burn to ash. Now I’m caught in his world of lies, lust, and obsession. The scary part? I believe it’s a risk worth taking.

Her Wicked Seduction is a steamy billionaire single-dad romance packed with dark secrets, forbidden heat, and heart-stopping twists.

Buy the book now: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FXVQNBQN

Excerpt

Alistair leaned back, his gold-framed Ray-Ban Aviator sunglasses catching the sunlight. “Glad you joined me on my boat today,” he said, like he knew he’d worn me down.

“You’ve got some nerve, calling my boss just to track me down.” I leveled him with a stare. He handed me his phone and stood there, waiting like I owed him an explanation. “He reminded me you were a ‘good friend’ and a valuable client, so I shouldn’t piss you off.”

Alistair slipped off his sunglasses and placed them on the table, his emerald gaze finding mine. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. That wasn’t my intention.”

I arched a brow. “You think calling my boss was subtle?”

He almost smiled but caught himself. “You weren’t answering. I had to get through somehow.”

About the Author

Estelle Pettersen is an award-winning Australian/Norwegian author and former journalist whose romance stories explore empowerment, freedom, and finding one’s strength. She has a Bachelor of Arts degree, majoring in Journalism and Psychology, from the University of Queensland, Australia. Her second degree is an MBA from Queensland University of Technology, Australia.

Her contemporary country romance novella Elizabeth was a Distinguished Favorite in the Independent Press Award, while her steamier stories won gold in other awards. Forgiving Liam was named a romance winner in the Firebird Book Awards, a contest supporting women and children in long-term shelters escaping homelessness, domestic violence, and trafficking.

Her darker, steamier stories include Lessons on Seduction and her short story Flowers for Kate in the Rainbow Desire anthology.

Estelle is published with Dusty Saddle Publishing and Black Velvet Seductions. She is a member of the Australian Romance Readers' Association (ARRA) and is passionate about history, languages, cultures, traveling, food, and wine. She is happily married and living in Norway these days.

Author Links

https://linktr.ee/estellepettersen

https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B08BLKKYPV

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20482227.Estelle_Pettersen

Buy the book now: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FXVQNBQN

 

Am I your girl? – #MFRWHooks #BDSMRomance #Thanksgiving

Welcome to this week’s MFRW Book Hooks blog hop!

Time is flying. It’s the second week in November already. November makes me think of Thanksgiving. And Thanksgiving makes me think not of turkey and pumpkin pie but (forgive me) about dominance and submission. My first experience with BDSM was during a Thanksgiving vacation visit with the man who would become my Master. Those four days were life-changing. For one thing, if not for that Thanksgiving sojourn, I suspect that Lisabet Sarai the author would not exist.

My first novel, Raw Silk, was an attempt to capture the intensity and depth of that D/s relationship. It was a wild sexual fantasy. Then in 2016 I wrote a serious romance featuring characters who had many characteristics in common with my Master and me. The Gazillionaire and the Virgin is much more realistic in tone than Raw Silk. It doesn’t have a Thanksgiving scene—but it always brings back memories.

Blurb

She’s the billionaire. He’s the virgin. Still, he knows how to make her melt.

When Silicon Valley entrepreneur Rachel Zelinsky meets reclusive genius Theo Moore, she has a single objective —a deal to incorporate his AI software into her company’s popular virtual world. She finds Theo to be arrogant, sensitive and socially awkward, but his aura of power speaks to her carefully-hidden submissive side. Confused and aroused, she falls under his geeky spell.

Theo Moore can’t be bought. His past battles with poverty make him deeply suspicious of the billionaire CEO, though Rachel’s voluptuous curves and brilliant mind embody his ultimate fantasy. Too bad his knowledge about sex derives from extensive research and a stash of kinky porn rather than real-world experience.

Rachel may be Theo’s first lover, but Theo is her first true Master. One word from him, one touch, and she surrenders to bliss. It seems that love and complementary desire may harmonize their differing values, until Rachel’s unwitting violation of Theo’s trust tears them apart.

The Hook

I’m not expecting him to call Thursday afternoon. The trill of my phone interrupts me as I’m giving Diane instructions for tomorrow. Still, the sound of his voice kindles a warm joy in the pit of my stomach as well as a wetness between my legs.

“Hello. Rachel?”

“Hi, Theo. What’s up?”

“I want you to come early tomorrow. Around noon.”

“I—um—I really can’t. I’ve got an all-day meeting up in San Francisco, some investors from India.”

“Cancel it.”

“What? I can’t do that. These guys have come half-way around the world to talk to me about a franchise deal. Think of the potential profit! More than a billion people, a soaring GDP, and Internet growth that’s doubling every year…”

It’s the wrong thing to say. I realize this the moment the statement’s out of my mouth.

“So you care more about money than about me.” Not a whining complaint, but a dry statement of the facts, at least as Theo sees them.

“No, of course not, but I can’t put my personal life above my business…”

“You should.” I can picture his face, the stubborn set of his jaw as he retreats, distancing himself from me. “But never mind. Of course you’re too busy. I should have expected that.”

“Wait! Wait, don’t hang up, Theo.” I struggle to keep him engaged. “What’s so important about tomorrow noon?”

“I want you to meet my sister. Ellen. She’s free for lunch tomorrow.”

“Can’t we do it Saturday?”

“She’s flying to Jamaica for a two-week vacation with her partner Saturday morning.”

“What about when she gets back?”

“She doesn’t want to leave without talking to you. She says she’s worried about me, worried about our relationship. She’s afraid you’ll hurt me, break my heart.”

I’d never hurt you, I almost say, then understand I’m doing so at that very moment. And it feels horrible, like a knife twisting in my gut.

The wheels turn in my mind. Seeming a bit cool to the Indians might actually work to my advantage. And I really don’t want to disappoint Theo. “Hmm. Maybe I can reschedule the conference for Monday. I suspect they’d enjoy having a free weekend in the city… This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

“Ellen’s my only family. If you’re going to be my girl, the two of you should get to know each other.”

Am I your girl? I want to ask, but Diane’s still in the room, eyeing me curiously as she listens to my side of the conversation. “Okay, okay. I’ll see what I can do. Can I call you back in an hour?”

“Sure. Talk to you in an hour. Thank you, Rachel.”

“Well, I’m not sure yet. I mean, whether I can reschedule to Monday.”

“Thanks for trying at least. And Rachel?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t make your conference too early Monday. I plan to keep you up late Sunday night.”

 

Available in ebook and audio. Find the buy links at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/gazillionairevirginbook.html

Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today’s Book Hooks!

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