Literally consumed by love? – #PNR #Elementals #MFRWHooks

Welcome to this week’s MFRW Books Hooks blog hop. My excerpt today comes from my short, steamy paranormal erotic romance Hot Spell. This is the first title in my Elemental Passions series. You’ll find the second book, Rough Weather, here. The third book is crying out to be written, but I haven’t gotten to that yet. Maybe if I get enough interest in this post, that will inspire me!

Blurb

The flames of passion are more than metaphor

Comfortable and at home in nature, Sylvie doesn’t mind being alone in the wilderness. But she’s not the only being haunting the glades and the trails. The stranger she encounters bathing in the stream near her camp obviously wants her, but refuses to act on his desire. Aidan is cursed with a power he fears will destroy her if they surrender to their passion. Can Sylvie refrain from tempting him?

The Hook

A cloud veiled the sun for a moment and a breeze rose, stirring Sylvie’s hair. She shivered, seeing the danger she’d barely escaped. Yet the pang of fear only served to excite her more. She stroked his forearm, savoring the heat that stung her fingertips.

“How do you know? When I touch you, I don’t actually burn.”

His ravaged expression made her regret the question.

“I didn’t learn what I was until I was a teenager. There was a girl my last year in high school…we loved each other, were going to marry. She persuaded me that we shouldn’t wait.” His voice cracked. He clutched his brow and massaged his temples.

Sylvie sat silent, squeezing his hand in hers and waiting for him to continue. Finally he looked up at her again, his eyes pools of pain.

“There was nothing left of her but ash and bone. I killed her. And burned her house to the ground. Her parents were out, but her little brother—” Aidan choked on a sob.

Sylvie rolled on to her knees and gathered him into her arms. His tears were a scalding rain on her breasts. “Aidan, baby, hush now…it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know—”

“It was my fault. I was so lost in my own desire, I didn’t recognize her cries were screams of pain rather than lust. I could have stopped…”

“You didn’t know. How could you have known? You were a virgin, too. When we’re in our teens, we’re nothing but a raging mass of hormones. We don’t understand the power of sex.” Sylvie suddenly had a vivid recollection of her own teen years, the unbearable need that used to drive her into the fields or the woods to pleasure herself. And then the aftermath—lying cradled by the crushed vegetation, the peace that nothing could disturb, other than the reawakening of her carnal urges.

Aidan extricated himself from her embrace. Reluctantly, she let him go. She sensed he might feel that her arms were a trap.

“So you see now? Why I can’t make love to you, the way I’m dying to do?”

She nodded, understanding but still unwilling to accept that she couldn’t have what she wanted so badly.

“So that was the only time? And it must have been, oh, years ago, right?” His smooth, taut body suggested that, like her, he was in his mid-twenties.

“Yeah, but…”

She rose to her feet, dragging him after her. “Maybe it wouldn’t happen anymore. Maybe it had to do with your closeness to puberty.” She rubbed her body against his, noting that despite his dark confession, he was now fully erect.

He grabbed her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “Sylvie, stop it! Do you really want to take that risk?”

She did. She couldn’t help herself. At that moment, with his heat singing through her veins and turning her sex into a crucible of molten need, she thought she’d rather die than let him go. Think about him, she reminded herself. She sensed the weight of guilt that hung on his spirit. She was just making it worse.

“Anyway, I took a vow,” he murmured, pulling her close again and nuzzling her hair. “To never make love to another woman. You wouldn’t make me break that vow, would you?”

“I won’t,” Sylvie resolved. “But I want to. Oh God, how I want to!”

“You’ve come pretty close already.” For the first time, his laugh held more joy than bitterness.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/1489-hot-spell-elemental-passions-book-1/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09RBDV6CN

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09RBDV6CN

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1129862

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hot-spell-lisabet-sarai/1140939301?ean=2940165765773

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/hot-spell-elemental-passions-book-1

Apple Books - https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id1607413746

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60242459-hot-spell

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

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Charity Sunday: Three years of pain and courage – #StandWithUkraine #CharitySunday #WarChildrenTalk

I just returned from a two week trip to the U.S. (I live in Southeast Asia.) While we were in New York City, we had breakfast at a Ukrainian restaurant that has been open for three generations, since 1954.

https://veselka.com/

While the food was amazing (luscious potato pancakes and a feta omelet), I was also struck by the feisty atmosphere. The place was bustling and cheerful. The servers wore tee shirts reading “Our hearts beet for Ukraine” (a punning reference to the Ukrainian staple, borscht). It occurred to me that since Russia invaded Ukraine three years ago, many more people are at least aware of the country and its culture. Not exactly a silver lining, but we need to look for hope wherever we can find it.

Three years. I can hardly believe this unjust war has gone on so long. I’m amazed at the courage and tenacity of the Ukrainians, having survived so much. I worry about their future, but I believe they have the spirit to triumph.

I last did a Charity Sunday for Ukraine back in July of 2023. Today I am supporting the same organization that I chose for that post, Voices of Children (https://voices.org.ua/en/stories). This organization provides psychological and practical support for children suffering from the effects of the war. Imagine living for three years with the knowledge that you might be bombed at any time, your home destroyed, your parents injured or killed. Consider what life is like for the kids whose families have been torn apart by casualties or by the need to relocate.

 

Voices of Children has a very specific mission, focusing on the long term mental and physical health of these kids. It’s a mission that looks forward to peace even in the midst of war. So today (and throughout the month of May, until the next Charity Sunday), I will donate two dollars to this organization for every comment I receive.

If you’re interested in their work, you might also consider buying a copy of the book they’ve compiled:

https://voices.org.ua/en/knyzhka-viyna-holosamy-ditey

If anything will make the war real for you, it is these quotes from the kids who have suffered through it.

For today’s excerpt, I’ve chosen a bit from my paranormal ménage Fangs, Fur and the Single Girl. This has absolutely nothing to do with Ukraine, but it is set in New York City. In fact, while we were there, I revisited several of the locations that feature in the novel (to see how accurate my recollections had been – it has been six years since I was in the city).

Also, FFSG was just released in an audio version. If you like to listen to your fiction, check out the audio release here:

https://www.amazon.com/Audible-Studios-Brilliance-Fangs-Single/dp/B0F63YJG4H

https://www.audible.com/ac/Fangs-Fur-and-the-Single-Girl-Audiobook/B0F64114PR

Excerpt

Unencumbered by her suitcase, Bianca could move more freely. It took her less than forty-five minutes by subway to reach St. Mark’s Place. A vegan restaurant occupied the ground floor of the address on Mirielle Dupont’s card. A steep flight led up to the second floor entrance of the building proper. There was no sign, but peering up from street level, Bianca noted that the window to the right of the entrance contained a plump calico cat, tightly curled on a black cushion.

The door opened before she knocked.

“Bianca, my dear! I’ve been expecting you.”

A white tunic draped the psychic’s hefty, broad-shouldered figure, worn over sky-blue silk pantaloons. Atop her artificial golden curls perched a turban of multi-colored paisley satin. Elaborate silver earrings dangled from her chalk-white earlobes. Kohl outlined her eyes and her lips were painted a bright red. Despite the season, her feet were bare, the toenails bright with blue polish. Another feline, silvery gray, wove its sinuous body around her ankles.

Bianca allowed herself to be pulled into the cozy, cluttered room. Bookshelves packed with tumbled volumes lined most of the walls. Indonesian batik covered any empty spots. With a sofa, two puffy armchairs with matching ottomans, an enameled curio cabinet, and a round table flanked by wrought iron chairs, the room held far too much furniture. The window sill had been extended to form a broad shelf that supported two cat beds, one of which, as she’d noted from below, was occupied. The calico did not stir, but a tiger-striped creature who was stretched out along the back of the sofa raised its head to survey the new arrival, then raked its claws across the upholstery. A fourth feline, solid black and large as a toy poodle, sat in the middle of table, watching her with unblinking yellow eyes.

A gorgeous Oriental carpet covered the floor. Bianca toed off her boots before Mirielle could comment, not wanting to track in dirt from the street.

“Thank you, thank you kindly. Won’t you sit down?” Mirielle gestured toward the table. “I’ll make us some tea.”

Before Bianca could object, the psychic had disappeared through a curtained door toward the back of the apartment. Not knowing what else to do, she took the offered seat, which put her just level with the black cat. He regarded her gravely, his expression suggesting far more wisdom than he could possibly possess.

Why was she here? Did she really believe the eccentric transvestite had some sort of mystical power? The crowded space did not seem to contain any occult objects – no pyramids, crystal balls, Ouija boards or Tarot decks.

Still, Mirielle had immediately identified Bianca at the club and had not seemed the least bit surprised by her appearance today. Without being told, she clearly had some understanding of Bianca’s dilemma. And despite her liveliness, the self-proclaimed clairvoyant struck Bianca as someone who’d been around for a very long time. If anyone had answers to Bianca’s questions, it might be Mirielle Dupont.

Her stout, turbaned figure reappeared through the draperies carrying a tray. “Here we are. My special soothing blend, rose hips and orange peel, with a touch of mint. Off with you, Bruno. We need your space.”

The black feline regarded Mirielle for a moment, as if deciding whether to obey. Then he rose to all fours, arched into a leisurely stretch, and leaped from the table to the sofa, where he settled himself just below the tiger.

After putting down her tray, Mirielle poured two cups of the aromatic beverage and handed one to Bianca, who took a tentative sip. Somewhat to her surprise, the tea was delicious. The psychic watched her intently as she drank more deeply, then drained the cup.

“You’ve changed since we last met.” Mirielle’s welcoming smile had been replaced by a frown of perplexity. “I can feel it. You’ve sunk deeper into the shadow world.”

Bianca shivered, despite the warm tea. The psychic’s perceptiveness both scared and reassured her. “You told me that everyone wanted me. You were right. First Elena Lazarescu tried to seduce me, and nearly succeeded. She wanted both sex and blood, I think. Maybe she planned to turn me into a vampire.”

“So you know about the sexual aspects of vampire recruitment?”

Bianca nodded, not sure how much she should share. Did Mirielle know about Jim? What about Zack? “Then Barrett Chandler, Alpha of the New York werewolves, had me kidnapped. He kept me prisoner in his mansion, trying to convince me I should mate with him and bear him an heir.”

Mirielle rolled her eyes. “Poor Barrett. He keeps siring sons, then killing them. He knows he won’t live forever, but he’s too addicted to power to actually relinquish it to the next were generation.”

“The women – Chandler’s pack is all women – is that why?” Bianca remembered Artemisia’s cryptic remark about werewolf mortality.

“He’s too jealous – and too fearful – to allow any males to live.”

“Is that why he was looking for Zack?” Bianca asked, then mentally kicked herself. She hadn’t planned to reveal her werewolf lover’s existence.

Her companion smiled. “Don’t be concerned. I know all about Zack Kane. Twenty odd years ago, his mother found me and told me his story. She was terribly weak from the birth; indeed she died in my arms. But not before she made me swear I’d protect him. That I’d never reveal her son’s whereabouts to his father.”

 

Don’t forget to leave a comment! Every one helps the war-scarred kids in Ukraine.

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

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

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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.

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