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Friday, August 30, 2024

Fan Girl Squee – #Steampunk #99cents #FiveStarReview

Pornographer's Apprentice sale banner

Like most authors, I’m a reader as well as a writer. I subscribe to the newsletters of at least a dozen of my author friends and colleagues. I like hearing about what they’re up to, especially their new releases. I do what I can to share their latest titles and volunteer to be an ARC reviewer when I can spare the time. (I appreciate the fact that sometimes they will give a shout out to my books, too.)

One of the authors I follow is the legendary Cecilia Tan. Cecilia is an erotica pioneer. More than twenty years ago she established Circlet Press as a publishing venue for speculative erotica and erotic scifi, especially with queer or gender-bending themes. She also writes some of the most wise, nuanced and arousing D/s fiction around.

As you probably gather, I admire her a great deal. We’ve “known” each other for a long time, but never met in person, even though we lived in the same state for many years before I moved to Asia.

Anyway, I recently received a newsletter that talked about her new erotic steam punk story The Blossoms of Summer (see my review earlier this week). I emailed her to ask for an ARC copy, then casually asked if she’d read my steam punk erotica trilogy The Toymakers Guild. When she indicated that she hadn’t, I offered her a copy of the first book. I was thrilled when she accepted.

Imagine my delight when she wrote, a day later:

Oh this is fun! I only meant to glance at it and I'm already on chapter three. :-)

She finished it in record time, then left one of the most enthusiastic reviews on Amazon that I’ve ever received.

The Pornographer's Apprentice is a rowdy romp through all the best tropes of salacious Victorian literature, from randy housemaids to caning discipline, mixed with modern sensibilities about consent and deliciously inventive steampunk touches.

You can read the rest of the review (it’s quite long) here:

https://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/R1Z957XE0FWNSK/

Any author will tell you how much it means to get a positive review. But a gushing review from an author whom I deeply respect? I’m over the moon.

To celebrate... I’ve decided to share the love. I’ve dropped the price of The Pornographer’s Apprentice ebook to only 99 cents at all venues... just for this weekend! The price will go back up to the usual $4.99 on Monday September 2nd. So don’t wait! Go read Cecilia’s review, then get your own copy.

You can find all the buy links for the book at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/pornographersapprenticebook.html

 

Pornographer's Apprentice sale graphic

 

Thursday, August 29, 2024

Trapped in a web of his own lies – #SmallTown #RockStar #Trust

Her Rock Star Mountain Man book cover
 

Blurb

This mountain man became a rock star, and now he’s back home.

My band was finally playing big venues, and I had nothing better to do than to humiliate myself publicly. I go home to lick my wounds and find my old gal in distress. My ma gives me an ultimatum: either I make Lilly stop barking or she’ll re-home her. So I hire a dog trainer and set to work. The more time I spend with her, the likelier it is I never want her to leave.

In a fleeting moment, I choose to give her a fake name. It’s refreshing to be seen as someone ordinary, not as a rock star. But then I discover her disdain for celebrities, and foolishly, I believe I’ve dodged a bullet by concealing my true identity. Now, I’m trapped in a web of my own lies. How can I reveal the truth without risking her walking away the moment she learns who I really am?

Read this heartwarming, small-town romance novella with a heroine who's doing her best to stay away from the attractive lumberjack-slash-rock star, a hero who is determined to make her his, and a good girl who is too vocal about what she doesn’t like. Her Rock Star Mountain Man promises a perfect blend of light steam and a satisfying happily-ever-after. It is part of the Elken Grove Mountain Men series, but it can be read as a standalone.

This book was previously under the same name in the Mic Drop anthology.

Buy link:

https://www.amazon.de/dp/B0D8BKNFM6/

Review Quotes

This story is such a fun, whirlwind romance.”

Light hearted. Lots of family chaos.”

Good Novella story that will have you cheering on for the characters.”

Banner

Excerpt

The lights dim as the last stagehand vanishes into the wings. There is no music yet, but the audience’s murmur starts to quiet. I’ve never been to a concert of Tawpie Tantrum before, and hardly know anything about them, but for their music, which had been running almost non-stop on my stereo for weeks. I go to live gigs as often as I can. The hope for a great concert is making me giddy and I can’t help rubbing my hands together. I’m glad we’ve shelled out for first row seats in the side section, not too far from the stage.

Gradually, the lights on stage become brighter and illuminate the positions the band will take in a couple of minutes.

I love this moment. Everything is possible right now. This might very well be the best concert I’m ever going to attend. I might be blown away by the music. This might be a life-altering night.

I relish this anticipation just before the concert. And it’s not just me. Right now, it feels like the entire audience is with me on this.

I’ll get myself a soda. You want any?”

Of course, a moment like this is wasted on Brittney. My sister-in-law is a good friend but has zero sensitivity for awe. Or whatever it is that I feel right now.

Get me a water, will you?” Amanda asks. Today, she is wearing her hair in some crazy curls, like right out of a hair product ad. This should look terrible, but not with Amanda. Her confident smile makes me question my choice of clothes. Blue jeans, white shirt, and a brown leather jacket, my ash blonde hair undone—nobody would take me for a style icon. I have to look put together in my job. No way am I putting much thought into my appearance in my spare time. Only women like Amanda with their impeccable sense of style make me wish I was snazzier.

Just as Brittney squeezes past me to get to the concession stand, a member of the band appears on stage. The lights change color and start swirling, as the Black guy sits behind the drums. The audience welcomes him with applause and cheering. Very softly, he begins a solo.

Drum solos are not really my thing. I guess I’m more the melody kind of girl and that rhythm is lost on me once it is by itself. But this here is a surprise. The drummer plays that ba-dum-tss in many variations, outdoing themselves, mocking one another. I’m not sure this is a thing, but it most definitely sounds like it.

After a few minutes of blissful drum solo, another man walks on stage. He puts his horn to his lips and soon, the two instruments engage in a playful duel. I can’t stop grinning. This is so good!

This is good.”

The seats jolt as Brittney flops next to me. She offers me a water bottle I had not requested. Sometimes, things like that make her a wonderful friend. Now, though, it irks me as it takes from the moment.

I hear background vocals, and as the light changes again, it reveals three singers standing upstage, two women in silvery dresses and a man in black pants and a shirt of that same silvery fabric. They are moving gracefully, thus emphasizing their singing. The entire stage setup is visually as alluring as the music.

Ooh, I’d love me some drummer.” Amanda points at the young man skillfully twirling his sticks and working his drums with his entire body. Sweat makes his skin glisten in the limelight. How can he go through the concert if he exerts himself this much in the very first song?

Brittney makes a howling sound. “Okay, you can have him. I take the hornist.”

Interesting. With his long, wavy hair and his slender body, he is about as different from my brother as someone can be. I feel the need to protect Carson, and so I point out, “You’re married.”

Yeah, so? A girl can dream.” Brittney winks at me and keeps dancing in her seat in that slightly exaggerated way, like she had to make sure everybody knew she had a good time.

I'm not comfortable with this conversation and try to focus on the music.

Who are you gonna pick?” Amanda asks.

I’m about to say, “Nobody,” when another man steps on stage. He is much taller than his band mates and wears himself with an easy confidence that makes me edgy. He is broad-shouldered and looks just like the kind of man who could put a spell on me—I’ve always had a penchant for the lumberjack physique. I notice a pressure on my chest, like my heart is beating erratically.

The man wears leather pants and a shiny, see-through tunic that emphasizes his toned body more than it cloaks it. He slides the belt of his guitar around his neck. With a quick motion, he swipes some of his longish dark strands behind the ear and checks the plug.

The pulsating rhythm of the drum and the titillating timbre of the horn echo through the arena, but it is the guitarist who had not even started playing that held my attention. I just couldn’t ignore that spark of a connection.

Ooh, somebody likes the picker.” Brittney jokingly elbows me. I wave her off dismissively, but that only makes her and Amanda break out in laughter.

Determined not to pay attention to their antics, I intently watch what is happening on stage. And yeah, by that I mean I watch the guitarist. He nods a few times to get into the rhythm and finally begins to play.

I love guitars. They talk to me. I know this sounds stupid, and I am no good at anything to do with music in the first place. My father always says that I am tone deaf, and that might very well be. I couldn't hold a tune if my life depended on it, and I sucked at music lessons. But once I decided that I don’t care a fig about what good music is and whether people laugh at me enjoying it, I now am free to listen to whatever I want and to spend all my money on concerts. It makes me come alive. And guitars do talk to me. Not all of them, of course. It depends on who plays it. This one here is outright eloquent. I listen, captivated, song after song, ensnared by the instrument. Or its player if that makes a difference at all. Watching him is almost as bewitching as listening to his guitar and I wish we had gone for front-of-stage tickets so I could see him better. He walks around the stage, dances, jumps, or in some instances, just stands still. In these moments, it looks like he was listening, too. The stage lights bathe the band in a kaleidoscope of colors and gives them a mysterious air. Maybe it is just a trick of the lights, but one time I actually had the impression he smiled and winked at me.

I feel a closeness to him, and that is futile. I bet everybody in the stadium does. Still, it feels real and makes me yearn. Like a rock star would ever look at me.

Read more

About the Author

Ella Braeme logo

 

Ella writes sweet'n'steamy romances that are meant to provide short vacations from your everyday life. She loves to read, mostly romances, of course, and to putter around in her backyard, forever trying to turn it into a blooming garden. She’s got a dog who is helping greatly with all the garden work by supervising everything Ella does and—for the most part—not digging up her flowers.

Follow Ella on Instagram @ellawritesromance

Sign-up to her emails and get a free novella: https://ellabraeme.com/newsletter.htm

Visit the website https://ellabraeme.com

Other books by Ella Braeme 

Elken Grove Mountain Men  

Butting Heads with Her Mountain Man 

Her Rock Star Mountain Man 

Knocked Up by the Mountain Man in the Love and Espresso anthology 

Married in Windfall

Nice Enough

Anyone at Hand

Someone I Chose

Santa’s Proposal ← free with sign-up

Married in Windfall (the entire series available as paperback)

 

Wednesday, August 28, 2024

I’m yours. But I’m also his. – #MFRWHooks #Threesome #NewRelease

Triad teaser

Welcome to this week’s MFRW Book Hooks blog hop. Book Hooks is a chance for us authors to share bits from our favorite books and for you, our readers, to maybe find new writers and new stories to light up your life.

Be sure to follow the links at the end of my post to read what other MFRW members have put up to tempt you!

My hook today comes from my new boxed set of three-way romance stories, Triad. This is a short snippet from Sharing Leah, which looks at the very real issues of jealousy and conflict in a threesome.

Blurb for Sharing Leah

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?


Book Hooks Logo

The Hook

The acid in his voice when he mentioned Daniel ate straight into Leah’s soul. She rolled off the bed and tried to untangle her clothes.

Don’t be like that.”

Like what?”

You know what I mean. You both agreed. To be civil to each other. To share me.”

Hey, I’m perfectly polite to him in public. But you can’t blame me for being bitter. You love me, but you’re married to him.”

I love Daniel, too.”

It’s not the same.”

No, you’re right, it’s not the same. That doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”

He doesn’t satisfy you. Only I know how to give you what you really need.”

Leah’s eyes grew damp. “He gives me things that you could never understand, Greg.”

That pussy? Hah!” Greg’s scorn did not hide his hurt.

That’s enough. If you don’t like the situation here, you can leave.”

And have you come running to me every few months, the way you used to? Looking for a bit of rough love?”

I wasn’t the only one who wanted those visits.” Leah buttoned her blouse, then sank back down onto the bed.

Greg brooded for a while. “No, you’re right. At least now I get to see you every day. It kills me, though.” He clutched at her arm, looking so wounded and desperate that Leah was afraid for him. “Sometimes I think I can’t stand it any more. You’re mine, Leah. Mine!”

Leah pulled away from Greg as gently as she could. She stroked his cheek. “Yes, I’m yours. But I’m also his.”

She left as quickly as she could, buttoning up as she fled. She couldn’t bear to see the fury and despair that twisted his features. He still didn’t comprehend that his pain hurt her worse than any agony he could ever inflict deliberately.

Buy Links

Free on Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DCT7NC8C

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0DCT7NC8C

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DCT7NC8C

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/217367481-triad

Don’t forget to visit the other MFRW authors posting today!


Tuesday, August 27, 2024

Review Tuesday: The Blossoms of Summer by Cecilia Tan -- #Steampunk #Erotic #ReviewTuesday

The Blossoms of Summer cover

The Blossoms of Summer: A Tale of the Forbidden Flowers by Cecilia Tan

Self-published, 2024

When botanist Robert Meriwether is tasked with a perilous air journey to the forbidden inner reaches of China, he expects to return with rare specimens that will make his scientific name and ensure his material fortune. Little does he know that the legendary summer blossoms nurtured by the mountain monks are like nothing he’s studied before. Keeping the “flowers” blooming turns out to require skills he has not previously had to exercise in pursuit if his scholarly career. Fortunately the young naturalist possesses the flexibility, curiosity, resourcefulness and masculine endowment to successfully fulfill his commission.

The Blossoms of Summer is a sly, clever erotic nugget couched in the euphemistic prose of the Victorian period. Narrated in the epistolary style so popular in the nineteenth century, the story unfolds with grace, boldness and not a little humor. Cecilia Tan is one of my favorite authors. This tale showcases her versatility. It is erudite and politically astute, as well as great fun, though it would have had more of an erotic charge if we readers had been there to observe the action, rather than simply reading about it second hand in Robert’s letters.

On the other hand, in that case the story might have felt less authentically Victorian. One can almost imagine this journey to paradise might really have happened – much to the Robert’s delight. 

This book is very short, thus the rather brief review. If you'd like to experience Cecilia Tan's novel-writing talent, I highly recommend her Secrets of a Rock Star series - some of the most honest, nuanced and arousing D/s romance I've ever read.

  

Monday, August 26, 2024

Humor in verse: The Husband Chair – #Humor #Giveaway #Poetry

The Husband Chair tour banner

Blurb

Our hero: Bone tired. Lost. Desolate. A man pushed to the outer limits of his very being. His struggle: Satisfy the need to rest whilst still supporting his beloved in her hour of need.

While his wife negotiates a seemingly endless list of fashion stores in her quest for perfection, her loving husband must stave off the weariness that visits each partner in a shopping spree with their significant other.

Fighting hunger, rising frustration and the mental fatigue associated with tracking credit card usage, will he ever find peace? And honestly, can he just go and sit down for a minute...

Excerpt

Honey,” she pleads, “won’t you please take me shopping?”

While the chance for my tee time is steadily dropping.

Just imagine the noise, when I call up the boys,

And confess “I’m not coming” - oh, the shit I’ll be copping!


I hope she backs down, but my chances are bleak,

When I reasonably tell her, “We just went last week!”

But she fixes a stare with that world-famous glare,

As my fate is confirmed: back to The Husband Chair.


About the Author and Illustrator

 

Nick Bannister photo

Nick Bannister: Nick & Terry are long-time friends & first-time author/illustrators. Each has their own vast experience with husband chairs, as both are happily married.

Both reside in Brisbane, Australia.

CONNECT WITH Nick Bannister

WEBSITE: https://nickbannisterauthor.com/

GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/49040336.Nick_Bannister

 

The Husband Chair book cover

 

PURCHASE LINKS

AMAZON.COM.AU

https://amazon.com.au/dp/1779410816

INDIGO CHAPTERS

https://www.indigo.ca/en-ca/the-husband-chair/9781779410818.html

BOOKTOPIA

https://www.booktopia.com.au/search.ep?keywords=9781779410818

GIVEAWAY #1: The author will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner.


a Rafflecopter giveaway

GIVEAWAY #2: Enter on Goodreads for a free copy of the book.

 

Goodreads Book Giveaway

The Husband Chair by Nick Bannister

The Husband Chair

by Nick Bannister

Giveaway ends September 15, 2024.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

Sunday, August 25, 2024

Charity Sunday: Truly Humanitarian – #Conflict #Disasters #Vampires #CharitySunday

 

Charity Sunday Banner

Welcome to our Charity Sunday blog hop for August. This month I’m supporting one of my favorite organizations, Doctors Without Borders (Médecins Sans Frontières). The brave volunteer medical professionals who work with MSF provide essential care for people affected by conflict, disease outbreaks, natural and human-made disasters, and exclusion from health care in more than 70 countries. With war, famine and climate change wreaking havoc worldwide, MSF’s work has never been more critical―—or more challenging. The stories on their website are both harrowing and inspiring.

MSF logo

MSF puts the “human” in humanitarian. They treat every human, without regard for what side they’re on, their politics or their tribe. Compassion wins over every other consideration.

Anyway, I will donate two dollars to MSF for each comment I receive on this post.

For my excerpt, I’m sharing the start of my paranormal erotic romance novel Fangs, Fur and the Single Girl. What’s the connection to MSF? In 2012 I edited a charitable anthology of vampire tales entitled Coming Together: In Vein. All proceeds were dedicated to MSF. My story in that volume, “Vampires, Limited”, was the starting point for the novel.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the snippet... and that you’ll leave me a comment. It’s not much to ask, is it?

FFSG cover

Excerpt

Next!” Bianca stabbed the intercom button with a crimson-tipped finger. She tilted her chair back and closed her eyes, trying to summon some enthusiasm for the next sacrificial lamb. Who would have thought it would be so difficult? With the current craze for all things vampiric, finding a new model or two with the appropriate pallor and unearthly allure should have been a piece of cake. The city teemed with Dracula wannabes. Why were the ones who showed up at her office so lame?

She needed new faces, new excitement, to keep her phenomenally successful business running in high gear. A wry grin twitched at her scarlet-tinted mouth. What she needed was fresh blood.

The poster-sized cover images on her walls featured the dark-haired, chalk-faced, chisel-chinned hunks that her readers expected. Swathed in black, poised above the vulnerable flesh of their gorgeous prey with fangs bared, they reeked of danger and desire. An occasional female vamp joined them, jet curls tumbling into her pale cleavage, carmine lips shining as though already painted with gore.

The images were sexy, edgy, and irresistibly hip. In its first year, Vamp magazine had broken the circulation record for a new publication. It had become the de facto authority for the burgeoning vampire subculture. It covered the fashions, the clubs, the bands, the latest pseudo-vampiric celebrities. In the back, advertisements for skin bleaching cosmetics and fang implants mingled with the personal ads. “Attractive SWF seeks dominant SWM for blood-sucking adventures”. The online version was almost as successful, though vamp fans seemed to appreciate the nostalgia of paper.

The cultural wave seemed to be far from cresting, but Bianca knew that she had to keep innovating, or she’d be left in the dust by her copycat competitors.

A knock brought her back to the here and now. “Come in,” she called, trying to erase the impatience from her voice. She flicked her black bangs out of her eyes and assumed what she hoped was a welcoming expression.

A man glided in through the door, and Bianca thought for an instant that there had been a mild earthquake. Reality somehow shifted. Her stomach dropped away, as though her roller coaster car had just reached a peak and plunged down the other side. The office and its somber furnishings suddenly looked more solid, hyper-real, every detail visible.

With some difficulty, Bianca focused on the blond young man standing in front of her desk. “Good afternoon.” Reflexively she took the portfolio he handed her. “I’m Bianca Sorenson, publisher of Vamp.”

Jim,” her visitor answered in a broad Midwestern accent. “Jim Bush. Thank you for taking the time to see me, Ms. Sorenson.”

Jim Bush was attractive, no question of that, but Bianca could see immediately that he was all wrong. He was slender rather than muscular, though he moved well as he seated himself across from her. His gold-tinged curls and ruddy complexion fairly screamed health and youth. She’d never seen anyone who looked less undead. He had such an honest, open face that Bianca couldn’t imagine him looking crafty or menacing. He wasn’t even wearing black. His tan slacks and robin’s-egg sport shirt highlighted his trim physique and heightened the blue of his eyes, but no vampire (at least, no New York City vampire) would ever be caught wearing such a costume.

You think that I’m the wrong type for your vampire mag.” It was a statement, not a question, and mirrored her thoughts so accurately that Bianca was startled.

Well, you certainly don’t fit the stereotype. You’re a bit too—um—wholesome for our readers.”

Jim’s laugh held an odd, bitter edge. “Take a look at my photos before you make a decision, Ms. Sorenson.”

Bianca flipped open the portfolio and leafed through the contents. There was no resume. The first two pictures were head shots, clearly professional, and Bianca had to admit that the man’s smoldering gaze was dark and seductive enough to send a chill up her spine, despite the blue eyes and fair coloring.

Do you have any experience?”

Depends what you mean. But modeling experience? No, I’ve never been a model.”

Why do you want to work for Vamp, then? What did you do before?”

I was in college.” He didn’t seem to want to say anymore about his past. “When I saw your ad, it seemed natural to apply.”

Bianca appraised him with the hard-headedness that was her trademark. He was quite gorgeous. She wouldn’t mind taking him home. However, she didn’t need a dilettante, a college kid on a lark. At the moment, Vamp was her life’s work. She’d quit a good job at Vogue to follow her hunch and it had paid off. She needed models who were as serious as she was.

I’m not just fooling around. I want this job.” Bianca’s eyes narrowed. His sensitivity was certainly unnerving. “Take a look at the next few photographs. Please.”

She flipped to the next picture and sucked in her breath. The image was incredible. The scene was familiar but the intensity made it new.

She scarcely recognized Jim. He wore a black velvet cape with a red satin lining and white gloves. His face was poised above an exquisite girl with long red hair that barely hid her obviously naked body. His full lips curled into a snarl, displaying the most realistic fangs that Bianca had ever seen. Blood dripped from those fangs, pooling in shiny droplets on the woman’s creamy skin. Blood welled from the puncture wounds clearly visible on her neck. The man’s eyes were not on his prey, who wore a look of languid ecstasy. They were focused toward the viewer, burning with a palpable hunger that made Bianca swallow hard.

Wow,” she whispered. The photo had a dramatic, visceral effect. Her heart raced. Her palms became sweaty. Underneath her black jersey, she felt her nipples tighten into aching knots. “That’s amazing. How did you manage it?”

Try the next picture.” The man’s body was tense, as though he was working hard to hold something back. Tearing herself away with some effort from the soulful gaze in the photo, she turned it over.

The photograph that followed ripped her apart. Although vampiric in theme, it was nothing like the camp pictures that her publication featured. The same red-haired woman lay nude on a satin-draped bier, graceful and pale. Her wrists crossed on her abdomen, just below the modest swell of her perfect breasts. Her face was turned toward the camera, her eyes closed, her lips parted. A trail of crimson fluid trickled from her neck, across the white satin and onto the stone floor.

Behind the bier stood the vampire. His right hand held a white candle that unevenly illuminated the arched vault. His left cupped his victim’s breast, thumb resting lightly on her prominent nipple. His blond hair was pushed back from his brow, damp with sweat. His skin was flushed with the blood that he had swallowed, blood that still smeared his lips. Looking into those eyes, eyes dark as hell, Bianca felt all of his agony—his grief, his guilt and his awful, all-consuming lust.

Who was she, the ethereal, terribly convincing victim? And who—who was he?

She didn’t see him move. Yet all at once he was behind her, his hands on her shoulders, murmuring in her ear. “Barbara was her name. She was my girlfriend, back in college. A terrible mistake.”

He was so close, she should have felt the heat of his body, but it was as if a mannequin was pressed against her, instead of a living person. She could smell him, though, a sharp grassy scent that made her think of the country and wide open spaces.

Casually he trailed a finger up the side of her neck and circled her earlobe. A shiver raced through her, winding tight around her nipples, spiraling down to her sex. He nipped at her ear, playful, but still hard enough to make her gasp. “As for me, you know who I am, don’t you? Or at least, what I am.”


Don’t forget to leave a comment. And if you’re interested in picking up a copy of FFSG, you’ll find all the links at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/fangsfurbook.html



Friday, August 23, 2024

Long And Short Reviews 17th Anniversary Bash! #Books #Prizes #Fun

 LASR Anniversary tour banner

Like books? No matter the genre, we have a great place for you to find your next favorite read!

Long and Short Reviews is celebrating their 17th (wow!) anniversary, but you get the gifts. They're featuring more than 50 books in all genres from romance to science fiction, young adult to poetry... no matter your reading preferences, you can find something to enjoy!

New books to explore every day! And every one offers another chance for you to win amazing prizes.

What could possibly be better than that? 

The grand prize is not one but TWO $100 Amazon GCs! 

Once you're arrived at the Long and Short Reviews site, simply read through the book posts each day and answer a simple question (or follow authors on their social media accounts) and you're entered to win. New chances to enter every day! So, go visit and enter and don't forget to tell a friend or two. Good luck!

Contest runs from August 19-23, 2024.


Lots of books

Thursday, August 22, 2024

Join us for Charity Saturday, 25 August 2024 #CharitySundaySignup #Altruism #Marketing

Summer Lake

Image by Ilona Ilyés 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 25th of August.

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 August 25th, 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 the 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/2024/07/charity-sunday-for-womens-health-and.html



Wednesday, August 21, 2024

I liked being irresponsible – #Threesome #HistoricalRomance #MFRWHooks

Triad banner

Welcome to the MFRW Book Hooks blog hop!

Every Wednesday, members of the Marketing for Romance Writers author community get together to share bits from our work for your enjoyment. Browse through the links in list at the end of this post; maybe you’ll find your next romance read.

Today I’m sharing a bit from my newly release boxed set of three-way romances, Triad. I’ve collected some of my MFM and MMF tales and offered them exclusively on Amazon, free on Kindle Unlimited. Don’t worry though; if something intrigues you, the individual books are available on all online platforms.

Today’s hook is from my historical romance Monsoon Fever, set in Assam, India after the First World War. Enjoy!

The Hook

Once she had put the house in order, Priscilla had little to occupy her. Jonathan’s days were full, managing the plantation and trying to figure out his father’s tangled affairs. He had little time for her. Not that this was so different from her life in London, but there she had friends and diversions. Here she had no one to talk to but Lalida whose English was hardly adequate for a conversation of any depth.

The door hinges squeaked. Priscilla turned, expecting the servant, but instead she saw the trim, erect figure of her husband.

Good morning, Jon. Did you sleep well?”

Well enough. I hope that my tossing and turning didn’t disturb you.”

Not at all.” Priscilla couldn’t tell him the truth. Often she lay awake for hours, staring at the pale mosquito netting looped above their bed, listening to his muttering, wanting but not daring to wake him. Dying for him to touch her. “Sit down and have some breakfast. Lalida’s coming with a fresh pot.”

I’m really not hungry. I’ll take a flask of tea with me. I want to get out to the north slope as soon as I can and see how the plucking is coming along. Suresh told me that normally the second flush harvest should be completed before the rains begin. The longer we take, the poorer the quality will be.”

Please, sit down for just a minute. Have a biscuit. These days I hardly see you!”

Jonathan rested his hand on her shoulder. He brushed his lips across her ginger curls. The brief touch made Priscilla shiver with delight. “I’m sorry, Pru. I know that this must be hard on you. As soon as the harvest is finished, we’ll start looking for a buyer. We’ll be back in England before Christmas, I promise.”

He straightened up, a resolute look hardening his youthful features. “Right now, though, I’m facing something of an emergency. I hope that you can understand. Lalida, put that in a Thermos for me. I’ll be back for lunch, around one.” He reached for the oilcloth raincoat hanging by the door post.

Priscilla rose and put her arms around his waist. His body had changed in his few weeks of physical exertion. She could feel the hard muscles shifting under his shirt. Her own body sparked awake, suddenly aware of the texture of his skin, the scent of his soap. “I’ll miss you, Jon.” She tried to kiss him, but he twisted away, only his moustache brushing her lips.

Priscilla, please! It’s broad daylight.”

There’s nobody around. No one would be out in this deluge. Do kiss me, please.” She rubbed her body against his, deliberately trying to rouse him. “Anyway, you didn’t mind before, when we first got married. Do you remember that time, when you met my train at King’s Cross? You were so desperate for me, you slipped your hand under my blouse, right there on the platform!”

That was a long time ago,” Jon’s face was grim. Tears gathered into an aching lump in Priscilla’s throat. “We were young and irresponsible.”

I liked being irresponsible,” she declared, putting on the bratty air that used to amuse him. But she couldn’t bring a smile to his face. Firmly, he put her aside and pulled the oilcloth over his head.

We’ll talk about this later, Priscilla. I’ve got to get to the fields.” She knew, though, that this conversation, like all the others about their private life together, would not be continued.

She watched him stride down the path, heading for the paddock. Before long she heard the clip-clop of his horse fading into the misty distance. She sighed, leaning on the railing and peering out through the shifting veils of rain.

Triad book cover

 

Buy Links

Free on Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DCT7NC8C

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0DCT7NC8C

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DCT7NC8C

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/217367481-triad

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