Closed for Vacation

Image by Lutz Dieckmann from Pixabay

Just want to let you know that Beyond Romance will be closed (no new posts) for the next two weeks. (Actually I’ll be in chilly New England, not relaxing on a beach, but I'll be with people I love...)

I’ll be back on Sunday April 27^th – which will be our next Charity Sunday.

Meanwhile, if you haven’t done so already, why not drop by the March Charity Sunday post and leave a comment? The post stays open for the entire month, and every comment you leave becomes a donation to a great cause.

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2025/03/charity-sunday-epidemic-of-selfishness.html

And if you’re looking for something to read, check out all the free stories on my website (https://www.lisabetsarai.com/freereads.html).

You can also download my perma-free short story collection Crowd Pleaser from Smashwords.

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/954307

See you in a couple of weeks!

Welcome to Book Nirvana – #NewRelease #RivalsToLovers #FoundFamily

Welcome to Book Nirvana, an indie bookstore in Eugene, Oregon, where you’ll find every flavor of bookish delight, a quirky staff who are as close as family, Lulu the all-wise shop cat, Coffee Dreams next door, and a dazzling collection of naughty books kept behind the red door in back. If you ask shop owner Clara nicely, she just might let you peek inside!

Blurb

Margot

Who needs family? On the cusp of launching my graphic arts career, I’m all about freedom—no fences, no limits, and no more bigoted family weighing me down. Between college, work at Book Nirvana, and a high-stakes art competition, I barely have time for my part-time girlfriend, much less a flirtation with my competitor, even if his cocky, ginger-bearded hotness makes me question my “no strings” rule.

Elmer

Family is everything, and I’ve found my family of the heart in the Eugene, Oregon art scene. But something is missing...until Margot, my rival for an art grant we both desperately need. That prickly little sprite lights me up body and soul, but she fears I’m out to clip her wings. I’m not made to share my heart with more than one, and falling for Margot could wreck me.

Come to Book Nirvana for a red-hot love triangle that forces two young artists to redefine success, family, and freedom.

Love, Art, and Other Obstacles was previously published and has been revised and updated with new chapters.

Excerpt

That fuzzy, flame-colored beard of his must tickle. What would it feel like brushing against my bare skin or nestled between my thighs?

I bite my lip hard. Gotta get my head, and the rest of my horny body, out of the red room.

The guy turns toward me and grins. Is it just my imagination, or do his eyes flash when they meet mine? Warm hazel eyes, thickly lashed and sparkling with playful energy.

A happy little vibration twitches the corners of my mouth upward—until I recognize him.

Oh, yuck. This guy. I’ve seen him hanging around the shop, flirting with my co-worker Laurel, all swaggering, macho bullshit. I recall how Dalton, Laurel’s boyfriend, tensed like an angry stork and glared at the shorter, buffer man.

Maxie waves. “Margot, you remember Elmer? He gave me a ride.” She nudges him with her bony elbow. “Isn’t he cute?”

Yeah, real cute. And he knows it.

“How’s it going, Margot?” His grin widens as his gaze flicks over my body.

Creep.

But there’s no way to avoid his extended hand without offending Maxie, so I take it. Warm, callused, his grip firm but not too tight. A tattoo of a foaming beer mug adorns his wrist. Pretty muscles flex beneath the copper hair on his forearm.

Feet on the ground, DuPont. You’ve got no time for flirtatious fuzz-beards.

Maxie’s merry gaze flicks from her ginger friend to me. “He’s exhibiting at the Rainbow Center on Saturday.” She grins up at him. “Margot helped Laurel design that poster for the art show.”

His eyebrows rise. “That’s your work? Really nice.”

I shake my head. “It’s Laurel’s work. I just helped with the graphic design software.”

His freckled brow rumples. “Graphic design? Like ads and words and stuff?”

Curling my lip, I prepare for battle with yet another snooty artist who looks down his precious nose at graphic arts, like nothing with words or photos could ever count as real art.

“I make stuff everyone sees, not just rich people in art galleries.” I step closer, glaring. “Posters for community events, book covers, the logo for this shop, and its website and signage and—”

He raises both hands and backs away. “Relax, angry elf. I wasn’t putting down your work, okay? I said I like the poster. Jeesh.”

Maxie’s painted-on auburn brows rumple. “Margot, I’m surprised at you.”

That stings. I guess I’m still smarting from the whole interview debacle. I stare glumly at my boots. “Yeah, well, I’m sick of snobby artists.”

Elmer crosses his athletic arms over his impressive pecs. “I’m not one of them.”

My face flushes hot. “Okay, cool. Sorry I snapped. So, um, what are you exhibiting at the show?”

“Ceramics. Beer steins, mostly. Donated a dozen to the Rainbow Arts Center.” He winks, my dig seemingly forgotten. “If someone likes my stuff, maybe they’ll order a complete set.”

Beer mugs? Definitely not snooty.

Embarrassment drills deeper into my skull while the pretty potter smooches Maxie’s cheek.

“Well, gotta shove off. Max, I’ll pick you up at ten on Saturday. Ladies.” He pantomimes lifting a hat brim, then ambles toward the door.

Maxie prods my boot with her cane. “Why’d you bite his head off? He’s a nice boy. You should ask him out.”

I lower my voice, since Ginger Muscles is taking his sweet time to exit the bookshop. “Max, I’m not looking to date right now. Especially not that guy.”

“What’s wrong with Elmer?”

“I’ve seen him in action. He flirts for sport. I’m not gonna be anyone’s plaything.”

The doorway bell tinkles as Elmer exits the shop. Laurel looks up from wiping the counter. “You want to wait in the café, Aunt Maxie? I’ll be done in fifteen minutes.”

“Of course, doll.” Maxie totters toward the coffee shop next door.

I join Laurel behind the counter and watch through the plate-glass window as Elmer crosses the street and unlocks his rust-bucket pickup. “Pain in the ass, isn’t he?”

Nice ass, though. Firm and crunchy.

Laurel chuckles. “Oh, he’s not so bad. I think he just flirts out of habit, like some people nibble their nails or twiddle their hair.” She straights a pile of flyers. “Margot, do you—um…”

“What?”

“Do you date guys?”

What’s she up to?

“Sometimes. Why?”

Laurel glances at Elmer’s truck, now chugging up Willamette Street. “On his way out, he asked about you.”

“Oh, so I should date him, get him off your back?” I scrub my fingers through my hair. “No thanks.”

“Well, I hope you’ll come to the art show anyway. I’m running the race at ten, but I’ll be helping with the set-up beforehand.” She cracks a crooked smile. “I’ll do my best to corral Elmer. But I’ve gotta warn you—once he sets his mind on you, he’s persistent.”

“Don’t worry.” I square my shoulders. “I can handle pushy guys. I know how to push back.”

Buy links

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Love-Other-Obstacles-Sadira-Stone-ebook/dp/B0DTJHL4BN

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-art-and-other-obstacles-sadira-stone/1136831927?ean=2940184780559

Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/love-art-and-other-obstacles/id6740788765

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/love-art-and-other-obstacles-1

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Sadira_Stone_Love_Art_and_Other_Obstacles?id=fo9AEQAAQBAJ

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1693382

Universal Book Link: https://books2read.com/LoveArtAndOtherObstacles

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/223816614-love-art-and-other-obstacles

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/love-art-and-other-obstacles-book-nirvana-by-sadira-stone

Bookfunnel link to bonus story for newsletter subscribers: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/pjoht3dbjp

About the Author  

 

Award-winning contemporary romance author Sadira Stone spins steamy, smoochy tales set in small businesses—a quirky bookstore, a neighborhood bar, a vintage boutique. Set in the U.S. Pacific Northwest, her stories highlight found family, friendship, and the sizzling chemistry that pulls unlikely partners together. When she emerges from her writing cave in Las Vegas, Nevada (which she seldom does), she can be found shaking her hips in dance class, playing her guitar (badly, but getting better), exploring the Western U.S. with her charming husband, cooking up a storm, and gobbling all the romance books. For a guaranteed HEA (and no cliffhangers!) visit Sadira at https://sadirastone.com

Visit Sadira on All the Socials!

https://linktr.ee/SadiraStone

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

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18568049.Sadira_Stone

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/sadira-stone

Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Sadira-Stone/e/B07KWK5FBX

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/sadira0641/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sadirastone/

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/sadirastone.bsky.social

Author newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/q7x4c6

Tiktok: https://tiktok.com/@sadirastone

Author website: https://www.sadirastone.com

A story inspired by a poem – #LGBTQ #HistoricalRomance #NationalPoetryMonth #MFRWHooks

https://poets.org/national-poetry-month/get-official-poster

Did you know that April is National Poetry Month?

Having written many poems during my lifetime, I appreciate how much poorer the world would be without poetry. Of course, there’s not a hard line between poetry and prose. The music of language works to elevate both.

For today’s Book Hooks, I’m sharing a bit from my historical lesbian romance story By Moonlight. This book was inspired by the classic poem The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes. I don’t recall when I first read this poem, but I’m sure it was during my elementary school years. The imagery, the drama and the tragic romanticism all spoke to me.

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.   

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.   

The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,   

And the highwayman came riding—

         Riding—riding—

The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

In my version of this tale, the highwayman is in fact a woman in man’s garb. And because this is romance, I’ve spun the a happy ending for my lovers. I haven't skimped on the drama, though!

Here’s a bit from the middle of the story.

And I do hope, if you’re not familiar with the poem, that you’ll go check it out after reading my excerpt.

The Hook

Bess strained at her restraints, even though she knew her struggling was futile. Terror and fury mingled in her breast. How dare he touch her? She belonged to Kit, body and soul.

As he fiddled with his trousers, she realized that her current position offered some protection. Though her would-be assailant did not as yet seem to understand this, it would be close to impossible for him to penetrate her cunny while she was seated and bound. At very least he’d have to untie her ankles in order to lift her hips off the chair. If he did, she’d be ready to deliver a solid kick to the bollocks.

He reached for her. She shrank away. A knock froze them both in place. In its wake came silence. The raucous commotion from the common room had died away.

A second knock set her attacker back in motion. He whirled in the direction of the sound. “Who’s there?” he growled. “Go away!”

“Excuse me, sir.” Bess was astonished to hear a woman’s voice, with a thick Devon accent. “Your friend sent me up with some ale for you.”

“Oh, well! That’s a different story.” He flipped Bess’s dress down to cover her thighs, then turned her back toward the window before opening the door.

Bess craned her neck so that she could see the entrance. A stranger stood on the threshold, a maid of perhaps two and twenty. She wore an apron over her brown homespun gown, which was cut less modestly than the one Bess wore. The woman’s plaits were coiled above her ears. In one hand, she carried a lighted taper, in the other, one of the inn’s earthenware tankards. The candle cast a cone of light on the woman’s bosom, but left her face mostly in shadow. Bess had a brief impression of prominent cheekbones and a sharp chin, before the newcomer set both her burdens on top of the cupboard.

“I’d heard you were thirsty, sir,” she said, her respectful tone not quite consistent with her jaunty posture. “And that you had need of light.”

“True on both counts.” The soldier grinned, reached for the flagon and took a generous swallow. “I’d expected Jack,” he said evenly, setting the ale down. “But you’re a welcome substitute, wench.”

Grasping her by the wrist, he drew the mysterious barmaid into the room then used his foot to nudge the door closed. Bess felt some surprise that the girl didn’t resist, especially when the redcoat wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her to his chest.

“Now that you’re here,” he murmured, burying his face in her neck. “I hope you’ll stay for a bit.”

The next events unfolded so quickly that Bess could scarcely follow what was happening. As he tried to kiss the woman in his arms, his murmur of satisfaction transformed to a cry of pain. The man crumpled to the floor, a dagger embedded in his chest. “Damned harlot!” he gasped. He writhed at the stranger’s feet for a moment, then lay still.

“Ignorant brute,” she responded, her voice dripping with scorn. She poked him with her boot. When he did not stir, she crouched by his side, pulled the knife from his chest, and wiped it on the soldier’s scarlet coat. The gem-studded grip of her weapon glittered in the flickering candlelight.

“At least the blood won’t show,” she said lightly. Her rural accent had vanished, to be replaced by familiar Gallic-tinged tones.

“Kit! How in the world—?”

“Later, my sweet.” Her savior was already kneeling at Bess’s feet, sawing at the ankle ropes. “We must be away before the King’s dogs awaken and come after us.” She cast a wry glance over her shoulder, at the body on the floor. “Though there’s at least one who won’t be joining the chase.” Her well-honed blade made short work of the soldiers’ bonds.

Finally free, Bess rose on wobbly legs and flowed into the outlaw’s arms. Kit’s familiar warmth engulfed her. Bess leaned against the slender, road-toughened body she knew so well, breathing in Kit’s scent of earth and spice and reveling in the sense of rightness. Yet at the same time it felt strange to embrace her bandit beloved, dressed as Kit was in the layers and skirts of a woman.

Their lips met in a fiery kiss. The terror and anxiety of the past hours evaporated like dew in the sun. The outlaw’s bold tongue claimed her mouth. Meanwhile Kit’s clever hands swept along Bess’s back then down to her buttocks. Even through her coarse clothing, Bess felt supple fingers kneading her flesh and the firm pressure of Kit’s pubis against her own.

She sighed, sagging against her lover’s breasts. “Take me, I beg you. Wash away that wretch’s foul taint.” Her own fingers struggled to untie Kit’s apron and pull her bodice out from her waist.

“Nay, my sweet. There’s no time.” With a last brush of her lips across Bess’s forehead, Kit disentangled herself and set Bess aside. “We must be away before the redcoats come to their senses.”

“What do you mean?” Bewildered and bereft, Bess sank back into the chair.

“You’ll see. Have you things you can’t bear to leave behind? If so, gather them now. And your warmest cloak as well. ’Tis chilly upon the moors.” Kit grabbed Bess by the wrists and pulled her to her feet. “Quickly, girl! Just things that can’t be replaced. I’ve plenty of coin for anything else.”

Bess surveyed her humble quarters. There was little enough of value. As always, she wore her mother’s locket, with its miniature likeness and the curl of jet-black hair. She slipped her woolen cape off its peg and swung it around her shoulders. “I don’t need anything,” she said finally. “As long as I have you.”

 

You can find the buy links for By Moonlight here: https://www.lisabetsarai.com/bymoonlightbook.html

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

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Love, sacrifice, and a devastating secret – #NewRelease #HighDrama #EnemiesToLovers

Blurb

There was a time when Caroline would’ve done anything for her former sweetheart, Eric Martin.

That’s why she agreed to marry him.

Six years ago, Caroline faced a dire ultimatum from Eric’s mother. Marry Eric, and Stacy—Eric’s conniving girlfriend—gets the life-saving operation she needs. Out of love, Caroline agreed, hoping that in time, she and Eric would be able to rekindle the spark they once shared.

But that hope was in vain. Since that fateful day, Eric has harbored nothing but brutal resentment for Caroline; the last six years of marriage have been a nightmare.

As their marriage descends deeper into emotional warfare, Caroline receives a shocking, tragic diagnosis of her own.

While Caroline quietly prepares for the end, an all-too-familiar face returns—with a devastating secret to reveal.

With time running out, the question remains: Will Eric finally see Stacy for who she is, or will everything fall apart before Caroline’s last breath?

Buy from Amazon: https://shorturl.at/8sNUy

Excerpt

If I could run away from Stacy without looking like a loser, I would, wanting only to put the past behind me forever.

Slugging her would also be great for all the shit she brought into my life.

Steeled against whatever she intends to dish out, I face her, my emotions hidden behind indifference I’d show an annoying stranger.

I lift my chin and look down my nose at her. “Were you speaking to me?”

She blinks at my cold tone and question, her confidence shaken.

Score one for me.

“Uh… yeah.” Her smile wobbles, confusion in her eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you here so I said hi.” She laughs self-consciously. “Hi. Long time no see, right?”

I frown. “Do I know you?”

Another blink. Her cheeks redden. I suppose with the same embarrassment I felt around her. Eric, too, when they pawed each other or kissed in my presence.

“Yeah, we do know each other.” She clears her throat. “It’s me, Stacy.”

I don’t react.

Frowning, she speaks through her teeth. “Stacy Hill.”

I pretend to think about that then shrug. “No wonder I didn’t recognize you. You’ve changed.”

“What?” Hand to her chest, she titters. “No I haven’t. I’m the same old Stacy. Looking as good as ever.”

“If you say so.”

She wrinkles her nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

God, I love yanking her chain. Despite my urge to simply lie down, I put on the act of my life. “Your hair’s thinner than I recall.” I drag my gaze down her then up. “You’ve also gained weight.”

She steps back. “The hell I have.”

“Don’t worry. Six years will do that to some women.”

Pure hatred for me flashes in her eyes. At one time her disdain would have bothered me. At this point, I couldn’t care less. To be honest, I’m waiting for her to leave.

She remains and crosses her arms over her chest… a protective gesture.

“What are you doing in this hospital?” She taps her foot, waiting for my answer.

I’d cut out my tongue before telling her anything personal. Knowing her, she’d use the information to destroy me. She’s good at turning love into hate.

“My turn for a question.” I tilt my head to one side. “Why are you back… invading this space?”

Her face pales. I’m not surprised. In the past, I was never direct. Nice worked better for me. No more.

She sizes me up as if she’s uncertain where I’m coming from. Then her gorgeous face grows ugly with her signature venom.

“Surely you can’t be that dense. You know why I’m here.”

I can guess, or be honest and tell her the truth. I prefer to play with her feelings as she did with mine.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Eric, dammit.” Fists clenched, she steps toward me. “I’m here for him. If it wasn’t for you, he and I would already be married.”

I stroke my wedding ring, proof Eric belongs to me… at least in the eyes of the state. She notices the gesture.

“If you say so, Stacy.”

She curls her upper lip. “From what I hear, Eric regrets your marriage.”

“I thought you regretted it.”

Her eyes widen, then narrow. “Pretend all you want with me, I know the truth. Eric loathes you.”

My stomach cramps. Unwilling to give her the upper hand, I fight my sorrow, offering no reaction.

Confusion flares in her eyes, then pure meanness. “Maybe he wouldn’t still hate you after all these years if you hadn’t cheated on him.”

Stunned, I gape then shake from rage.

“Are you serious? You can’t be.” I get in her space. “I never cheated on him and you damn well know it. I’m not you, Stacy. I’ll never sink as low as you.”

She laughs softly. “Does Eric know that?”

He’s clueless when it comes to her, and she’s fully aware of it.

The gloves were off before, now my claws are out.

“Have you forgotten the part about you cheating on him? I was there, Stacy. I saw what you did. Guess he doesn’t know about that, huh? Did you lie your way out of the problem?” My voice is vicious. “Wonder what he’d say if I let it slip how you whored around on him.”

“Go ahead.” Her smile couldn’t be more smug. “He’ll never believe you over me. I made sure of it.”

I’m not surprised by her comment, but something about it nags me. A matter I’ve forgotten and need to recall… or ask her about.

“How can you be so sure he’ll believe you?”

Praise for Love Me After My Death

FIVE STARS - AMAZON

"WONDERFUL TEAR JERKER"

This one broke my heart in all the right ways. A great read.

~ Carol J.

FIVE STARS - AMAZON

"FANTASTIC"

Read it all in one weekend! Loved entering their world on a deeper level. The ReelShort adaptations are the best.

~ Sam

About the Author

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

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

MeWe: https://mewe.com/i/tinadonahue

Bluesky: @tinadonauthor.bsky.social

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

“Más. More.” #DarkRomance #NewRelease #MafiaRomance

Coming April 8^th from Amber Daulton. Searingly passionate dark romance that will leave you breathless!

Blurb

A drug lord on the run. A cartel princess in hiding. All it takes is a spark to set their world ablaze.

Bristol Rieger left his criminal life behind for a fresh start in Mexico. Flying under the radar of the government and the cartels alike, his best-laid plans go awry when a woman from his narco days discovers his whereabouts. Carmen Lozano, however, is no longer the innocent girl he remembers.

Carmen escaped the chains of her tiara and her abusive marriage to join a group of resistance fighters. The last thing she expected was the now-retired capo setting out to seduce her with his wicked touch. Embracing the blood on his hands is easy, but his secrets wear on her patience.

When their enemies close in, Bristol will have to summon his inner monster to protect her. But can that monster be tamed again?

– Book one is an Interracial (Hispanic woman/white man) dark romance novel in the Lozano Cartel series. All the books can be read as a standalone, but are part of an interconnected series.

– Scenes featuring torture/violence, kidnapping, attempted assault, infertility issues, child abuse (discussed), and suicide (discussed) may be uncomfortable for some readers.

– No cheating and HEA guaranteed!

– Written in 3^rd POV.

Excerpt (Adult)

Carmen trailed her lips down his chest and nibbled on his hard nipples before she dropped back to her knees.

Every nerve ending in his body twitched. Her mouth enclosed over his cock with all the skill of a seductress out to get what she wanted. Finally. It was about damn time he met a woman as ravenous as him. He fisted her hair with one hand and gripped the post for leverage with the other. He trembled all the way down his legs. She tugged his heavy ball sac so damn gently that he cursed. Hunger gnawed in his veins. Everything about her drove him insane—her smile, her melodic laughter, her mouthwatering body, even her godawful singing. Fucking hell. He needed inside her. Now! On the verge of shooting a liquid cannonball, he jerked her back up.

She moaned and blinked rapidly, her mouth slack.

He hauled her onto his shoulder and stomped toward a haystack.

“Oh!” Carmen giggled, clinging to his back. “No one has ever picked me up before. I’m tall for a woman. Most men cannot find the right leverage to lift me.”

He snorted. She couldn’t be more than five-feet-ten. The weaklings she’d welcomed into her bed deserved the slice of his blade for damn sure. He settled her on the edge of a waist-high hay bale and slid into heaven. Sparks danced in his vision. Her sharp gasp pierced his eardrums. Pressure pounded through him as he gripped her hips and thrust hard. The clench of her legs around his waist spurred him on. Her pussy convulsed around him, milking and demanding everything he had to give—and then some.

“¡Ay, Dios mío! That’s so good, Bristol. Más. More.”

Read Lisabet's review.

Add to Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/211106548-dark-hearts-aflame-lozano-cartel-book-1<

Check it out on BookBub – https://www.bookbub.com/books/dark-hearts-aflame-lozano-cartel-book-1-an-on-the-run-dark-cartel-romantic-suspense-by-amber-daulton

Download Links

Only $2.99 for a limited time.

Universal – https://books2read.com/darkheartsaflame

Amazon – https://amzn.to/4hGWOog

Barnes & Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dark-hearts-aflame-amber-daulton/1144724204

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/dark-hearts-aflame

Apple/iBooks – https://books.apple.com/us/book/dark-hearts-aflame/id6544805264

Google Play – https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=vtfwEAAAQBAJ

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1509101

About the Author

Amber Daulton is the author of the Lozano Cartel, the Arresting Onyx, and the Ramseys in Time series, as well as several standalone novellas. Her books are published through Daulton Publishing, The Wild Rose Press, and Books to Go Now, and are available in ebook, print on demand, audio, and foreign language formats.

She lives in North Carolina with her husband and demanding cats.

Social Media Link

Universal link – https://linktr.ee/AmberDaulton

Exclusive Newsletter (free ebook to new subscribers) – https://amberdaulton.com/newsletter-signup/

 

Take your chances as they come - #MFRWHooks #LGBTQ #VietNam

Since readers seemed to enjoy my excerpt from last week’s Asian Adventure, I’m sharing a bit from another story in the series, Dragon Boat Blues. This MMF romance is set among the famed islands of Ha Long Bay, Viet Nam, and features a disabled heroine.

Hope you enjoy it!

Blurb

Take your chances as they come

My lost superhero Josh had jet black hair, movie star cheekbones, clever hands, the devil’s mouth, and an instinct for driving me crazy. Josh believed in his own myths. He was forty miles an hour over the speed limit that day, more powerful than a locomotive, when we smashed into the tractor trailer. He blew out like a candle. I sputtered in a sort of half life, year after year, marked forever by that brief dance with insanity.

I booked the dragon boat cruise on Ha Long Bay to use up a few free days at the end of my business trip, figuring my disability wouldn’t be a problem on the luxurious junk. I wasn’t looking for companionship, just a bit of peace. But when British honeymooners Stan and Phil welcomed me into their circle of love, I discovered how much healing I still needed.

The Hook

Lunch was undeniably festive. All twenty or so passengers sat around a single long table. Aside from the Chinese contingent, the Brits and me, there was an elderly Polish couple who didn’t seem to speak English, and two French teenagers who undoubtedly could, but didn’t.

I sat between Stan and Phil, eating fresh spring rolls and lemongrass pork, drinking some very presentable cabernet and laughing at their stories about their farm. It came out that Stan had been a Londoner too, a banker, before hooking up with Phil, but he’d always dreamed of living in the country.

“Now we’ve got the country life in spades,” said Phil. “It’s bloody hard work, I’ll tell you that. But it makes Stan happy.” He reached behind me to squeeze his lover’s hand. Their obvious delight in one another’s company made me ache with loneliness.

Still, the luscious food, the wine and the pleasant companionship had improved my mood by the time the meal concluded. The guide—Van Binh was his name, I recalled—rose to stand at the head of the table, clinking a spoon against a water glass.

“Good afternoon, everyone.” Like most of the Vietnamese I knew, he was slightly built and wiry. Despite the humidity, he wore a long-sleeved business shirt buttoned at the cuffs and collar. “I hope you enjoyed your lunch.” One of the Chinese translated for his friends, and they all applauded. “This afternoon, we will cruise through some of the two thousand islands on our way to visit Trinh Nu and Sung Sot caves. Trinh Nu, or Virgin Cave, is a famous place for lovers. And beautiful Sung Sot truly deserves its nickname of Amazing Cave. Both are on the same island. We will anchor in the bay, then take a smaller boat to the shore.”

“Oh, dear, Lydia.” Stan turned to me. “Are you going to have trouble with that?”

“We can carry you, if necessary,” added Phil with a chuckle.

“I’m sure it won’t be.” I couldn’t help grinning at their energy. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m used to doing things on my own.”

I was, too. I’d had more than seven years to learn.

The guide continued outlining our itinerary. After the caves, there’d be kayaking—definitely not for me—and swimming. The following morning we’d be taken on a trip through the mangroves to a third cave, Thien Long and in the afternoon, visit famous Cát Bà National Park. It all sounded pretty strenuous. Well, I could always stay onboard and read the thriller I’d picked up at the airport.

After Van finished his spiel, most of the passengers moved to the front of the boat to enjoy the view. I settled into a chair under a red and gold striped awning. From my shady seat, I had a fine view of the craggy limestone formations that erupted from the gleaming water on either side. Some were bare rock, but many were carpeted in vivid green. Lush growth clung to fissures in the gray stone—prickly shrubs, stunted trees, and tangled vines that hung over precipices like verdant lace curtains. Some islets were shaped like teeth of the dragon that gave this bay its name. Others recalled elephants, turtles, rabbits, even the symmetry of a woman’s breasts.

Truly, the scene was as magical as the tour agency had promised. Mellow from the wine, I relaxed and let the glorious landscape slide by. A cool breeze dried my sweat. When we passed one of the formations, close enough that I could see birds nesting in the hollows halfway up the green cliff, the spicy scent of some herb reached my nostrils.

We threaded our way among the dramatic outcrops, the still surface of the bay mirroring their irregular forms. Though other junks kept pace with ours on either side, there was little noise. A sense of peace and well-being enveloped me.

Phil and Stan sat side by side on a bench in the narrow angle at the very front, leaning against the base of the magnificent carved dragon that formed the ship’s prow. They didn’t touch. Nevertheless, even at a few yards distance, I sensed the magnetism drawing them together. I would not have called either of them handsome, but their aura of happiness made them appealing to watch.

Stan was probably in his mid-forties, I guessed. Phil looked at least ten years younger. There was nothing effeminate about either one.

Big without being fat, Stan moved with the solid confidence of a man who was comfortable in his own skin.

His lean, loose-limbed partner radiated a physicality that made me think of a tennis player or a runner. He gestured expansively and laughed often, never quite still. It was difficult for me to imagine Phil cooped up in an office.

Stan noticed I was watching. He smiled and pointed to an empty seat next to him. I grinned back, shaking my head. I was far too comfortable to move.

Before long, a much larger island loomed ahead. Two thickly forested capes reached out like arms to embrace us. Our ship slipped between them, into the sheltered lagoon they enclosed. The crew scuttled about, releasing the anchor, partially furling the scarlet sails and readying the dinghy at the stern. I was pleased to discover that the smaller boat could be raised and lowered by a pair of winches. That would make excursions much less of a problem for me.

Indeed, getting to the shore was a snap. With the help of a sturdy gangplank and a permanent dock, not to mention Phil’s strong hand, I clambered out of the dinghy without difficulty.

The guide led us up a narrow path through the forest toward the cave mouth. The way was steep but smooth. With my cane, I could manage. We gathered under a limestone overhang while Van related the tragic legend of the fisherman’s daughter who had given the cave its nickname. I half-listened, absorbed by the breathtaking view. The little harbor stretched perhaps a hundred feet below us, studded with red sails, framed by green foliage. Further in the distance, the dragon’s teeth rose out of the water, hazy in the mist.

The scene was timeless perfection. It might be worth the entire cost of the trip.

After his introduction, Van led the main group into the cave’s depths. I strolled after them, not even trying to keep up. My leg had begun to throb. In any case, I didn’t have much desire to stick with the crowd and learn the names of each stalactite and stalagmite. I’d seen caves before; a few months after we’d met, Josh had taken me on a trip to Carlsbad Caverns.

We’d borrowed a studio car and driven straight from LA, stopping only to eat and get gas— and once, when we couldn’t stand being apart a moment longer, to make frantic love under the blazing desert sun.

Memories of Josh brought a slow ache, instead of the usual stab of hopeless grief. Maybe, after all these years, I was finally healing. Or maybe the environment, with its unearthly peace, had blunted the edge of my pain.

You can find all the buy links here: https://www.lisabetsarai.com/dragonboatbluesbook.html

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