Taking the Plunge into Print – #SelfPublishing #Learning #NewRelease

During the past four or five years, I’ve transitioned almost exclusively to self-publishing. Everything new that I’ve written has been released via KDP and Smashwords. Meanwhile, I’ve gradually reclaimed the rights to almost all my earlier books and created new editions with improved editing and self-created covers.

My self-published backlist is now about sixty books long. I’m pretty proud of this. However, one benefit that I’ve been missing by taking charge of the publishing process is the permanence of print. Up until now, all my self-published books have been available in digital format only. Some have audio versions, produced by Wordwooze, but I haven’t published anything you can hold in your hand.

That just changed.

I’ve just self-published my first paperback at Amazon, a new edition of my taboo erotic romance Incognito.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D57SFNSF

 

 

In the next week or so, I’m hoping to create a Draft2Digital edition also, so I can get the book out to other, non-Amazon audiences.

The process of creating the print edition was not painless, but ultimately it took less time than I expected. Rather than purchasing and trying to learn a complex WYSIWYG tool like Vellum or Atticus, I did the layout and type-setting using a system called LaTeX, which is often used for academic and technical works.

LaTex is a “mark-up language”. You put commands into your text-based manuscript, then run the file through a processing program that interprets all the instructions and produces a finished PDF. While this geeky approach is probably not right for everyone, it worked pretty well for me. LaTeX knows “out of the box” how to handle things like left- and right-facing pages, headers and footers, table of contents, and so on. If you don’t like something—for instance, the margins or the font size—you can make a single parameter change and regenerate the PDF almost instantly.

The main advantage of LaTex for me, though, is that once you have a set of commands that produce output you like, it’s almost trivial to apply the same format to another book. Unlike using a WYSISYG program, you don’t have to select sections of text, apply styles, or do much else with the actual book text. Almost all the work is handled by the document class definition and parameters at the top of the LaTeX source file.

In the coming months, I plan to bring out paperback versions of all my novels. I’ve got about a dozen, depending on your definition of “novel”, so I want a method that’s fast and efficient.

Actually, the most difficult part of producing the book was doing the cover. It’s based on the ebook cover, so the art was not an issue. However, print publishing requires that the cover follow some very strict rules and have precisely calculated measurements. Amazon rejected my first cover. Fortunately I was able to fix the problems. I learned a lot in the process.

Anyway, I’m pretty excited about this news. And having create one paperback, I’m trying to decide which one to tackle next.

I could use your feedback. I’m considering the following:

Rajasthani Moon – Multi-genre paranormal menage erotic romance

(https://www.lisabetsarai.com/rajasthanimoonbook.html)

Exposure – Urban erotic noir

(https://www.lisabetsarai.com/exposurebook.html)

At the Margins of Madness – MM paranormal erotic romance

(https://www.lisabetsarai.com/marginsofmadnessbook.html)

The Gazillionaire and the Virgin – Contemporary BDSM romance

(https://www.lisabetsarai.com/gazillionairevirginbook.html)

Leave me a comment below, telling me which one you’d most like to see in print.

To thank you for your feedback, I’ll randomly select one person who responds and give away a $5 bookstore gift card. (So be sure to include a way for me to get in touch with you!)

And of course, if you’re the type of reader who enjoys having a physical book in your hands and turning real paper pages... you might want to check out Incognito. Hot off the press!

Either I’m prescient, or I’m insane – #PNR #MMRomance #AgeGap #MFRWHooks

Happy Wednesday! My MFRW Book Hooks post today comes from my MM paranormal erotic romance, At the Margins of Madness. This is a dark, intense and steamy novel, with pure love at its heart. It even ends with a wedding!

Blurb

Both power and love can lead to madness

Nineteen year old Kyle sees visions of disasters, visions that tear his world apart. Everyone assumes that he is schizophrenic, but Rob, the cop who picks him up off the street, knows better.

Rob's own experience has taught him that psychic powers are real, and potentially devastating. Since his telepathic sister's brutal murder, Rob wants nothing to do with "gifted" individuals like Kyle. Yet he can't deny his attraction to the beautiful, tortured young man—an attraction that appears to be mutual.

When a brilliant, sadistic practitioner of the black arts lures Kyle into his clutches, Rob faces the possibility that once again he may lose the person he loves most to the forces of darkness.

The Hook

“Kitchen’s here, with the door out to the back porch. Only one bathroom, I’m afraid. Here’s the guest room—your room. The closet’s empty; you’re welcome to put your stuff in there.”

Rob led Kyle through his apartment, fussing and clucking like a mother hen. He wondered for the hundredth time whether this was a mistake. The guy was just so damned beautiful. Rob could hardly bear to be close to him. Driving the few miles from St. Vincent’s to his building, Rob had tried to pay attention to the road, but he couldn’t help sneaking sidelong glances at the mysterious, sensual face of his companion. Kyle seemed to be brooding. Maybe he had his doubts, too.

“What stuff?” Kyle spread his arms, a half-smile on his plump lips. “Everything I own is on my back.”

“I’ll take you over to Greendale Mall so you can pick up some new clothes. Loan you some cash until you get on your feet.”

“What makes you think I’ll ever ‘get on my feet’, Sergeant Murphy?”

“Rob. Please.”

“Okay, Rob.” Kyle stared at the mostly bare maple outside the guest room window, before turning back to confront him. “Why should anything be different now?” Rob heard the bitterness in his voice. “I have a disease, and I don’t mean the ulcer. I’m cursed. I see terrible things, and I can’t stop them. It’s getting worse all the time. There are only two possibilities. Either I’ll kill myself, or I’ll truly go insane.”

Rob suppressed the urge to take the man in his arms. Instead, he settled for an avuncular pat on the shoulder. “It’s only your imagination, Kyle. Your mind playing tricks on you. Once you understand that, maybe you can suppress the visions. Or control them.”

Kyle sank down onto the bed. His dark eyes burnt under exquisitely arched brows. “My imagination? You know that’s not true.”

Rob lowered himself onto the desk chair. He wished that he were somewhere else. He wanted to help Kyle, but he really didn’t like where the conversation was going.

“What else could it be? These spells—they’re like seizures. Storms of random activity in your brain that make you see things. I was there at the hospital, remember, when it hit you yesterday. You were completely out of touch, yelling about the brake, the gas tank, groaning and crying. You were delusional.”

“It was a crash,” Kyle intoned. “At least five cars. Glass everywhere. The screech of rubber, the stink of leaking gasoline, and then the explosion and the smell of charred flesh… Check the papers, Rob. Call the police station. If it hasn’t happened yet, it will soon.”

“You really believe that your hallucinations foretell the future?” Rob remembered the night he’d picked Kyle up, the narrowly averted catastrophe at the address Kyle had seen.

“I only wish that they didn’t. All I ever see is violence and pain.” Kyle buried his face in his hands.

Rob moved to the bed, next to his guest, and put his arm around the denim-clad shoulders. He couldn’t help himself. “Look, that’s crazy. This isn’t some kind of horror movie. This is real life. There’s a rational explanation for everything.” He was trying to convince himself as much as Kyle. He didn’t want anything more to do with psychic abilities. Never again.

Kyle skewered him with a dark stare, hurt and angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought that you wanted to help me.”

Rob tensed. Kyle was so close. The funk of his old sweat rose from the worn jacket, along with a trace of disinfectant. Rob could see the pulse beating in the boy’s pale temple. He felt his own blood rush to his cock.

Kyle trembled. His nostrils flared. His eyes gleamed. Rob felt the pull, a magnet focused on his groin. It would be so easy to gather that taut young body to his chest, to fasten his mouth on Kyle’s ripe lips, to take control. But that wasn’t what the man needed. Kyle needed responsible strength. Logic. Maturity. With a heroic effort, Rob smothered his fantasies.

“I do want to help. If I didn’t, do you think I would have taken you in? I just want you to be realistic. To recognize that even when you think you’re seeing future events, that’s a delusion.”

Kyle wasn’t listening, not really. Rob could see him adjust his face, hiding his emotions, shuttering those bright eyes, donning a false smile. Putting on a mask. “Whatever you say, Rob. Maybe you’re right. After all, most nut cases think their visions are real.”

“You’re not a ‘nut case’, Kyle.”

“Are you sure?” He giggled. “You can’t have it both ways, you know. Either I’m prescient, or I’m insane.” He stood, stretching, then grinned at the sight of Rob’s obvious concern. “Hey, lighten up. Either way, I’m not going to stab you in your bed.”

Rob shuddered, despite himself.

Kyle rested a light hand on Rob’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to give you a hard time. I really do appreciate you giving me a place to crash.”

The casual touch re-ignited Rob’s carefully suppressed desire. Fortunately, the phone rang. “Excuse me,” he muttered, beating a hasty retreat to the hall. 

 

 

You can find all the buy links for this book athttps://www.lisabetsarai.com/marginsofmadnessbook.html

It’s currently available in ebook and audio formats. I expect to bring out a print version soon.

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

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A parallel Earth, trapped in the past – #SciFi #Giveaway @AuthorVGH

Blurb

A thunderous explosion echoes through the vastness of space. The Bridgeway Space Station is rocked by a catastrophic blast, sending Chief Engineer Meridia Vail and her international crew spiraling into an alternate dimension. They awake to find themselves stranded on an Earth trapped technologically in the past.

As the gravitational forces of this backwards planet wreak havoc on their metabolisms, Meridia races against time to locate her missing crew members before they meet an ominous fate at the hands of this archaic world order’s military forces. Piecing together clues, she discovers that the Bridgeway somehow survived the interdimensional jump too, but is trapped in a rapidly decaying orbit that threatens to demolish this entire parallel Earth.

In a nail-biting showdown, Meridia must leverage the unmatched technological power of the Bridgeway to bargain for her crew's release from detainment before all-out war erupts between the planet's primitive defenses and the unimaginable alien spacecraft looming above.

With millions of innocent lives hanging in the balance, she gambles on an audacious attempt to escape her captors.

Excerpt

The door opened.

I sat up and reached for the light.

“Don’t,” a familiar voice said. “They don’t know I’m here and I want to keep it that way.”

“Who doesn’t know you’re here?” I asked as panic swept across me. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“It’s me, Meridia. It’s Julio.” The older man appeared in the light reflecting from the TV. He looked every gray-hair of his age, but there was something about his eyes that weren’t right. His entire visage seemed worn and weathered beyond his fifty-nine years. He continued toward my bed with sweat dripping from his short, gray curls. “We have to get out of here. They want to use us.”

“Use us for what?” I asked.

“Don’t you hear them talking? They want to suck the information out of our brains. They’re going to attach us to machines that will take the wormhole knowledge out of us, then use that information to build bigger weapons. They won’t rest until they’ve brought the rest of the world to their knees.”

Oh boy. I jumped out of bed and hurried toward him to grab his arms. “Calm down, Julio. These people don’t want to hurt us. They want our knowledge, so it would hurt them to hurt us.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. His gaze pleading. “You’re wrong. I’ve seen the machines. They do it round after round after round. You had your first tests today, didn’t you?”

“Julio it was just—”

He tore away from me. “Don’t you get it? The wormhole is ours. We created it. It belongs to us. Not them.”

This wasn’t the same Julio Ferrera I knew. A fusion physicist who was already on his way to greatness even before he joined the astronaut program, he was our Chief of Scientific Research and an accomplished Air Force Major. This guy in front of me was a lunatic who needed more care than they could ever hope to give him here. Seeing my friend and colleague like this wrenched my heart. I wanted to hug the fear out of him but knew it wouldn’t make any difference. He needed more help than I could give him.

“Relax, okay?” I started toward the small desk where there was a phone. “I’m going to call someone to help you. Maybe they can give you something to help you sleep.”

Julio tackled me to the floor. “You have to listen to me, damn it! Listen! They’ve hidden away more Americans than just us, so they can experiment on them more. Some of them are still up there on the Bridgeway just waiting at the beck and call. Leave them frozen until they’re needed.”

I squirmed away from him enough to grab the leg of a small side table. I smashed it across his upper back and head. Dazed, his grip loosened. I wiggled my legs out from underneath him, but he charged again, grabbing the back of my nightshirt. Threads tore as he dragged me down again. This time, he clawed his way on top of me and got his hands around my throat. He squeezed hard like he wanted to snap my neck in half, yelling for me to listen to him. I punched and clawed at his arms, fighting and kicking. Anything to free myself as a burning sensation heated up my lungs.

“You’re one of them!” He shouted, his eyes crazed. “They got to you. You can’t tell them anything—I won’t let you!”

My bedroom door slammed open. Several people ran into my bedroom and wrestled him off me. I rolled onto my side and grabbed my neck, struggling to suck air into my writhing lungs.

The orderlies threw Julio on my bed where a man wearing a pair of black slacks sedated him. Dr. Tommen knelt on the floor next to me, but I waved him away. I didn’t want anyone touching me. For all I knew, they did this to him.

About the Author

Amazon best-selling author, V.G. Harrison enjoys creating smart heroines who are more comfortable dealing with things like Fine-structure constant and quantum entanglement than the fallout from their conflict. She loves to write stories that leave her audience so engaged they can't sleep at night, thinking about the possibilities.

V.G. holds a Bachelors in Biomedical Engineering and a Masters in Information Technology. When she's not writing, she's an IT manager for a healthcare information systems company.

Her ever-growing list of hobbies include astronomy, attending comic cons, keeping an eye on the cryptocurrency and stock markets, hydroponics gardening, hiking, and connecting with her daughter, Collie, on a cool level. Building Lego sets at night with milk and cookies on the side come in handy for that.

Buy Links

https://amzn.to/3SCcvn5

https://mochamemoirspress.com/product/abandon-station/

Author website link: http://www.vgharrison.com

Blog: https://www.vgharrison.com/blog-1

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/vg.harrison.5

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorVGH

V.G. Harrison will award a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner.

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Charity Sunday: Using Your Voice #VotingRights #Democracy #CharitySunday

Welcome to the May Charity Sunday blog hop. We have several authors participating today. I do hope you will visit them and leave comments. Every comment, at each site, becomes a donation to a worthy cause.

Even if you live somewhere else (as I do), I’m sure you know that the United States will be holding a major election in November of this year. I don’t want to talk about the ugliness, partisanship and dirty tricks surrounding this election (you’re probably aware of this as well). I want to point out that despite all this, Americans are incredibly fortunate to have the right to vote at all―and if you’re a U.S. citizen, to urge you to exercise that right. I firmly believe that the only way to conquer the sort of challenges we face today is to get everyone involved in a search for practical, win-win solutions. That’s really difficult, but as a first step, we need to hear everyone’s voice.

That’s why my chosen organization for this month is the League of Women Voters. LWV is a nonpartisan, grassroots organization working to protect and expand voting rights and ensure everyone is represented in the elections that govern the U.S.. They empower voters and defend democracy through advocacy, education, and litigation, at the local, state, and national levels. Issues of concern to LWV include protecting the freedom to vote; making voting easier, safer and more secure; reducing the influence of money in politics; and fighting for equitable redistricting.

LWV was created more than one hundred years ago, in the wake of the successful fight for women’s suffrage. Even then, the founders knew that having the right to vote was not enough. We must use the vote to raise our voices for the kind of society we want.

During the next three weeks, this post will be open to comments. I will donate two dollars to LWV for each comment I receive. Regardless of your nationality, or your political opinions, I hope you’ll participate by adding your voice to this post.

Meanwhile, I have a quick excerpt from the most political of my novels, my urban erotic noir Exposure. The book’s protagonist, Stella Xanathakeos, is a stripper who witnesses the murder of Pittsburgh mayoral candidate Tony Pinelli. Pinelli’s widow Francesca decides to run in her husband’s stead, and hires Stella to be her press secretary and campaign assistant.

I posted another political excerpt a few months ago, with Stella and Francesca at a press conference:

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2024/03/a-perfectly-honest-line-of-work.html

My excerpt today introduces Francesca’s opponent, old-money philanthropist Graham White. He has contacted Stella privately and asked her to come to his mansion for a meeting.

Excerpt

White’s house is very grand, even bigger and fancier than Francesca’s. I am determined not to be impressed. The leaded glass door is opened by a sour-faced maid in a black uniform. I hand her one of the business cards that Francesca insisted on having printed. She doesn’t try to pronounce my name.

“Mr. White is waiting for you in the library.” She points to the French doors on the left of the winding staircase. My heels click aggressively on the black and white marble tiles of the entry way.

White opens the door before I can knock. “Come in, Ms. Xanathakeos. Or can I call you Stella?”

“Actually, I’d prefer Ms. Xanathakeos, if you don’t mind.”

Graham White grins at me. No, that’s not right, he leers. He puts a hand on my arm, as if to lead me into the room, and I have an almost overwhelming urge to punch him in the nose.

I manage to control myself. Barely. Only the thought that I am representing Francesca keeps me from treating him the way I’d treat a pushy customer at the Peacock.

I snatch my arm away from him. He shrugs and settles into an armchair on one side of a magnificent stone fireplace decorated with what probably are priceless Chinese antiques. He gestures at the matching chair opposite him. “Please, sit down, Ms. Xanathakeos.” The way he drawls out my name makes me want to punch him even more. Still, I sit, needing to take the weight off my ankle.

“You told me on the phone that you have some important information for me. What information?”

“Actually, it’s more of a proposal.”

I sit silent, waiting for him to continue.

“As you can imagine, I have been watching your campaign work for Francesca Pinelli. Watching quite closely. You’re doing a bang-up job.”

“Thank you—I suppose.”

“What I’d like to propose is that you come work for me.”

I burst out laughing. I can’t help it. I can see the headlines: Stripper becomes hot political property.

“I’m serious, Ms. Xanathakeos. I’ll pay you three times whatever Francesca’s paying you.”

Gradually, my laughter fades away. But the situation still strikes me as absurd. “Really, Mr. White, do you think that I’m for sale to the highest bidder?”

White leans forward eagerly. “Everyone has their price. I’m willing to meet yours.”

I look him over, sizing him up. Big, sort of puffy, but not really fat. Thick copper-colored hair, prominent nose, fleshy lips. As I had noticed at the funeral, he has the rosy complexion of someone with high blood pressure.

His eyes are a bit of a shock, crystalline blue, and cold as shards of ice, despite his broad politician’s smile. I hold his gaze, trying to glimpse his secret perversions, and fail utterly. The only thing I see in him is raw ambition.

He thinks that I am considering his proposition. I could string him along, but I’d like to get out of his obnoxious presence as quickly as possible.

“There’s not a chance, Mr. White, that I’d ever work for you.”

His eyes narrow and his face gets redder. “Why not? I hope it’s not out of loyalty to the poor bereaved widow. Because let me tell you, my dear, you can’t trust Francesca Pinelli. She’ll discard you as soon as she doesn’t need you anymore.”

“I’m not your ‘dear,’ Mr. White. And my arrangement with Ms. Pinelli is strictly temporary, in any case.”

“Oh, are you trying to tell me she doesn’t have her claws in you yet?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and frankly, I don’t care.” I stand as gracefully as I can with my bad ankle. “This interview is over. Don’t bother to get up. I can find my way out.”

His face is a mottled crimson. White splutters—that’s the only way to describe it—trying to get sufficient control of himself to speak. As I’m closing the door behind me, he finally finds his voice. “You’ll be sorry, you slut,” he yells after me. “I’ll make you sorry.” There is a loud crash from the library, then another.

Terror suddenly mixes with my anger. This man sounds mad enough to kill.

 

You can find all the buy links for Exposure here:

https://www.lisabetsarai.com/exposurebook.html

Please remember to leave a comment. Every one supports free, fair and inclusive elections. And do go visit the other authors involved in today’s hop. I know you’ll find both great excerpts and great causes.

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Review Tuesday moved to Friday: Desiree All NIght by Tina Donahue #ReviewTuesday #PNR

Desiree All Night by Tina Donahue

Her mission: to help women demand the best from men.

Desiree Passion DuBois is determined that nobody else is going to repeat her mistakes. That’s why she hosts her Internet talk show, “Desiree All Night”, giving advice and support to gals in difficult relationships with both humans and paras of the opposite sex.

Turned into a blood-sucker by a charming but treacherous male vampire, she’s now stuck in an eternity she doesn’t want. Meanwhile, the guy’s ex, a psycho vamp named Brooke, is stalking Desiree, hell-bent on revenge for supposedly stealing him away.

Narcissa, a witch who’s Desiree’s bestie, tries to help by arranging for Hunter Klein to serve as her body guard. Thoroughly drool-worthy, Hunter is a panther shifter with a dark past who is as dangerous as he is gorgeous. He would have protected her with his life in any case, but when he concludes that Desiree is his fated mate, the stakes shoot sky high.

Desiree is equally drawn to Hunter. However, she knows they have no future, despite their incandescent erotic connection. She’s dead, with all the limitations that implies, while he’s not. She’ll just have to cherish their present closeness, knowing she’ll have centuries to miss him when he’s gone.

Then Brooke escalates her attacks, and there’s a chance Desiree might not last nearly that long.

Tina Donahue’s steamy and entertaining novel is a freebie she makes available to her fans and followers. In some ways that’s too bad, because I would have loved to leave a five star review of Desiree All Night on Amazon. A quick read, the book has everything you’d want in a paranormal erotic romance: supernatural battles, magical transformations, powerful attraction and some of the most incendiary sex scenes I’ve read in a while. It’s also quite funny, with fantastic snarky dialogue and twisted tropes that delighted me. In the New Orleans of the book, humans are apparently quite accustomed to witches, warlocks, vampires, shifters and other “paras”. Magic can suppress Desiree’s blood lust, but nothing can satisfy her hunger for chocolate. Meanwhile were-panther Hunter, orphaned, is sent to be fostered by a family of hyena-shifters. I laughed out loud at this detail.

Given the length of the book, there’s not a lot of time for Desiree’s and Hunter’s relationship to develop, but as I have found in writing my own PNR stories, magic and destiny are always good explanation for insta-love.

Still, I wouldn’t have minded a longer and more leisurely sojourn with these characters, especially Desiree who seems quite a bit more complex than her panther lover.

Maybe Ms. Donahue will consider a sequel.

Meanwhile, visit https://tinadonahuebooks.blogspot.com to download your own copy of Desiree All Night.

She wasn’t falling for his charm tonight... #Mystery #Twins #Giveaway @pht97

 

Blurb

A detective has a smooth-talking heartbreaker for a client, but there’s a problem.

Quinn has scorch marks from her last relationship and plenty of chemistry with Ben, but he could have killed his twin brother. He demands to work the case with her, claiming it’s his life on the line.

A partner is the last thing Quinn wants. What she wants is to prove him innocent. But she’s finding plenty of evidence he isn’t.

Excerpt

Quinn knew Ben would be his usual charming and charismatic self, but she wasn’t falling for it tonight. There was no chance of that tonight, not after what she’d learned.

When she entered the bar’s back door, she heard the band belting out tunes and the crowd singing along. Ben poked his head out of his office. “There you are. Thought I heard the back door close.” He smiled, and she pushed aside the familiar warm tug she felt when she saw him.

When Ben stood to the side for her to enter his office, Quinn felt the heat from his hand on the small of her back and the strong, almost magnetic attraction to Ben. It was as though the universe was pulling her to him.

“Have a seat.” Instead of sitting behind his desk, he sat next to her. She could see the concern on his face. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you.” Even to her, her voice sounded cold.

“Quinn, whatever you’ve come to say, just tell me. We can handle it.”

“You lied to me and your lawyer. A witness saw you coming out of the Green Room Sunday night. She picked your picture out of a lineup.”

Ben lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, I was there. I’m sorry. I was worried when I couldn’t find Paul, and he wasn’t answering his phone. I wish I hadn’t seen him lying like that on the sofa. I’d sat there so often with him, and then to see him dead like that.”

Quinn saw Ben’s grief, and she felt a surge of hope. The police had held back the fact that Paul’s body was found on the sofa to winnow out the crazies who called in and copped to every crime. Ben couldn’t have known unless he was there. “When were you there?”

“Around eleven.” He raised his head, and his gray eyes were wet with tears. “I’m sorry I lied to you. He pulled himself upright and said, “I didn’t kill my brother.”

“Tell me everything about that night,” Quinn asked.

About the Author

P.H. Turner (Pat) writes contemporary mysteries spiked with long-held grudges, secrets, and murder. With roots in a Texas farm homesteaded in the 1850s, she calls Austin home. When she's not writing, she's cooking for family, or taking care of a pair of hairy mutts, or in her garden coaxing roses to bloom in the Texas heat.

Pat is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and Romance Writers of America.

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/P.H.-Turner/author/B00NZ8RW0K

Website: https://www.phturner.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/P.H.TurnerAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/pht97

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

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Murder-at-College-P-H-Turner-ebook/dp/B0CW1MQLWG

 

P.H. Turner will award a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter.

 

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How can she choose between her husband and her master? #Polyamory #EroticRomance #MFRWHooks

This week I’m taking a break from promoting my newest releases and delving into my backlist. My hook today comes from my 2021 novella Sharing Leah: A Polyamorous Romance. This book offers what I think is a pretty realistic treatment of the menage/reverse harem trope. It may be many women’s fantasy – but making it work is far from easy.

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

Tonight, the two men seemed to be on their best behavior. Daniel had outdone himself, serving up an incredible feast of poached salmon in pastry shells, scalloped potatoes, and a mesclun salad, with brandied pears for desert. Greg had complimented Daniel, quite sincerely, on the meal, then meekly helped her wash and dry the dishes.

Now the three of them sat out on the deck, finishing off the second bottle of wine and enjoying the residual warmth of early September. The air still smelled of summer, ripe raspberries and sun-browned grass. In the woods that edged the yard, night birds called. A crescent moon rose over the tree tops. The strains of Bach’s “Musical Offering” filtered through the screen from inside, mingling with the bird song.

At least Daniel and Greg share the same taste in music, thought Leah dreamily. She leaned back in her chair, finally relaxed. When she glanced over at her husband, she saw that his eyes were closed. He was lost in the glorious melody. As though he felt her scrutiny, he turned to her, his handsome face luminous with joy.

Checking on her other lover, she found Greg was watching her, a gentle half smile on his full lips, with no hint of his usual mockery. Leah smiled back, grateful that he was acting like such a gentleman.

I’m incredibly lucky, she thought. Most women search all their lives for one true lover. I have two. Perhaps I should feel guilty, knowing that they have agreed to our ménage only to please me. But all I feel is gratitude.

Hope and relief washed through her. Maybe this would work after all. They just had to adapt, to get used to living together. To give up some of their individual selfishness for the sake of group harmony. She’d been selfish herself, expecting them to suppress their natural jealousies and insecurities simply to satisfy her needs. She needed to be more understanding. It had to be difficult for them, sharing her. Both men were so dear to her—she needed to work harder to show them.

Greg stirred in his chair. “It’s late, and I’ve got to work tomorrow. Finish your wine, Leah, and come to bed.”

Daniel looked up abruptly. “Wait a minute. Tonight’s my night.”

“No, it’s not. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays she’s with me. In case you’ve forgotten, this is Friday.”

“That’s not fair. She was away last night at her seminar. So she and I should be together tonight as compensation.”

“Sorry, old man.” Daniel was three years older than Greg, who liked to rub that in. “You know that’s not how the system works.”

“Well, perhaps we need to consider changing the system. Somehow it always seems to work out that Leah is away from the house on my nights.”

“Please...” Leah rose from her chair, trying to intervene, but it was as though she wasn’t there.

“I’m sorry, but that’s not my problem. Anyway, you shouldn’t be such a bad sport. After all, you had her to yourself for years.”

Daniel snorted in exaggerated disgust. “To myself? Hardly! I couldn’t make love to her without wondering if she was fantasizing about you. I couldn’t look at her without seeing the marks that you had left.”

“Marks she asked for, don’t forget.”

“That’s what you claim, at least.” Daniel was sexually adventurous, but he had no interest in BDSM. Leah knew that he was truly perplexed by the power dynamics between her and Greg.

“Believe me, I can make her beg to be beaten,” Greg said smugly. “Isn’t that true, little one?”

Leah blushed fiercely, as embarrassed as she was angry. Of course, Daniel knew this about her, but still she didn’t want to admit it out loud.

Both of them stared at her in mute accusation.

“Answer me, Leah.” Greg put a hint of steel in his voice. Shivers of anticipation raced through her in response. Her deepest instinct was to obey him, but she resisted, silent and rebellious.

“Why do you put up with him?” Daniel donned his wounded boy expression, pouting under his mustache. “All he does is hurt you. He has no respect for you. I can give you all the love and tenderness that you need.”

“You have no idea what she really needs,” said Greg softly. His aim was true, as always. Daniel slumped in momentary defeat, then roused himself.

“If that’s so, then why did she marry me?” he asked, playing his own trump card.

Leah had heard it all before, and suddenly, she couldn’t take anymore. She turned her back on them and headed for her room, ignoring their voices calling after her.

Find buy links for this book at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/sharingleahbook.html

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

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Join us for Charity Saturday, 26 May 2024 #CharitySundaySignup #Altruism #Marketing

Image by Annie 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 this coming Sunday, the 26^th of May.

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 May 26th, 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.

You can get my brand new 2024 Charity Sunday banner here:

https://www.lisabetsarai.com/2024CharitySundayBanner.jpg

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

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2024/04/charity-sunday-for-our-four-footed.html

 

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