An epic love story from Rue Allyn – #Preorder #HistoricalRomance #Romantasy

Coming in May 2027 – the final book in the MacKai Brides saga

Sir Fionnlagh MacKai was a man without a heritage. Raised in a cruelly abusive environment, he escaped his miserable life. So desperate was he, that he faced a blizzard rather than continue being beaten and kicked without reason. That blizzard would have killed him had he not found a young girl and a gravid mare stranded in the snow. That girl became his best friend. Her family became his. That friendship grew into a love he could not deny despite the knowledge he lacked a heritage worthy of her.

Lady Artis MacKai had the gift of knowing. She knew rather than foresaw possible future events. At the age of eight she knew she must brave one of the highland’s worst blizzards to make sure of a gift promised by her murdered mother. The girl braved freezing cold, snow and wind to find the promised foal. She knew she would not perish, though no one else would ever believe her. She did not know she would meet a boy whose mere presence helped keep her alive. Nor did she know until many years later that she would sacrifice everything for love of him.

Pre-order/Buy Links

Books2Read URL https://books2read.com/u/4j9Ewo

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H654F91C

Excerpt

Then the wind began to rise. Dry and piercingly cold, it nearly froze her hands to the wooden tiller.

“A' Ghaoth Anoir,” she whispered, the ancient name for the terrible east wind.

Mist gathered around the ship.

“Harr.” Fionn murmured and pointed at the deep white fog advancing on the wind.

Legends told by the sailors who taught Artis sailcraft described the fates of those who’d found themselves surrounded by the thick, chilly fog and never come home. Everything from Selkies to Banshees and worse were blamed for the disappearance of those who vanished in the mists.

The current continued to spin their vessel with dizzying speed.

The now relentless wind made a sharp whistling noise as it tore at the sail Fionn struggled to keep furled.

“An Fheadag,” Fear increased the tremors cold sent through Artis’ body as she named the second of the two most fearsome winds striking at the same time?

How is this possible?

The temperature plummeted.

She half expected snow.

Instead, rime formed where sea spay clung to the birlinn. Her clothing turned white from the freezing mist. Across the ship she could scarce see Fionn’s pale face.

“What’s happening?” his call came hollow, weak and distant against the ploverlike whistling.

Artis opened her mouth to answer, but the ship suddenly shot forward sending her backward where her head impacted the gunwale. Pain lanced through her brain, and she lay still, praying she suffered no permanent injury. She prayed even harder that Fionn had not been knocked overboard.

The spinning current had been overcome by an easterly drift more powerful than any Artis had experienced.

The little birlinn fairly flew atop the waves at a speed that doubled if not tripled the small vessel’s normal sailing rate.

How long the ship traveled and how far was impossible to know. The Harr kept pace with the vessel, obscuring everything from sight. It blocked the sun and any other light source.

Without access to sun, moon, and stars, Artis could not tell where or when they were.

She must find Fionn, be certain he suffered no hurt. She grasped the gunwales on either side of her and began struggling to her feet when the wood beneath her rose. Some great wave lifted the birlinn. The ship would be tossed when the wave broke, but where? To another wave? To a shore? To dash against a rocky coast? Would she die and never see Fionn’s face again?

About the Author

I learned story telling at my grandfather’s knee. (Well it was really more like on his knee—I was two.) I've been weaving my own tales ever since. I have worked as an instructor, mother, sailor, clerk, sales associate, and house painter, along with a variety of other types of employment. I've lived in and traveled to places all over the globe from Keflavik Iceland (I did not care much for the long nights of winter.) and Fairbanks Alaska to Panama City and the streets of London England to a large number of places in between. Now that our two sons have left the nest, I and my husband of more than five decades (Try living with the same person for more than fifty years—that’s a true adventure...) have retired and moved south. When not writing, enjoying the nearby beach or working jigsaw puzzles, I travel the world and surf the internet in search of background material and inspiration for my next heart melting romance. I love to hear from readers, and you may contact me at Rue [at] RueAllyn [dot] com. I can't wait to hear from you.

Find Rue Allyn Online

Website~~https://RueAllyn.com

Facebook~~ https://www.facebook.com/groups/rueallyndaringdamsels

Amazon~~https://www.amazon.com/Rue-Allyn/e/B00AUBF3NI/

Goodreads~~https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5031290.Rue_Allyn

She wasn’t the shy type – #FridaySmooch #AsianAdventures

Since I’ve been gone for a few weeks, nothing’s been happening here on my blog. So let’s liven things up with a Friday Smooch post!

This is another snippet from my erotic romance short Singapore Fling, which I also featured for this week’s Book Hooks. This excerpt is a bit spicier... Hope you enjoy it!

The Smooch

He rested his graceful hands on the table and searched her face. His nostrils flared. Was he noticing her at last? His lips curled into a slow grin. “So—are you hungry?”

Was there a double meaning to that question? Ploy didn’t know. She didn’t care. She couldn’t wait any longer.

“Oh, yes...” she breathed. She stumbled a bit as she rose from her chair and launched herself at Jason. Throwing her arms around his neck, she pressed her lips to his.

Up close, he smelled even more delicious, clean and masculine. His mouth was firm, muscular, molding to hers as she deepened the kiss. It opened to her probing tongue; she tasted coffee and breath mints. He let her take the lead, sitting passive while she devoured him. That was okay. Ploy wasn’t the shy type.

His muscles shifted under his shirt as he turned to face her, their lips still locked. She mashed her breasts against his chest, stimulating her swollen nipples. Shameless, she climbed onto his lap, straddling his lean legs. Her straight skirt rode up, baring her thighs. The hardness prodding her sodden undergarments told her that he was aware of her after all.

“Oh, Jason!” she moaned, finally breaking the kiss. Releasing her grip on his neck, she brought her hand down to cup the promising bulk of his erection. “Looks like you’re hungry, too,” she murmured. “But I can help you with that...” She fumbled with his zipper, stretched tight by his bulging cock.

“No!” The Chinese entrepreneur jerked, as if she’d given him an electric shock. “Don’t!” The chair rolled backward, slamming into the wall as he pushed Ploy off his lap. She barely escaped tumbling to the floor.

“What?” She clutched the table to steady herself and tried to slow her breathing. “What’s wrong?”

“We can’t. Someone might come in and find us.”

“Everyone’s gone.” Indeed the outer offices were empty and dim.

“Sometimes the engineers come back to work after dinner,” he protested. His sudden panic puzzled her. His eyes were wild with something that looked like fear, but the tenting in his trousers remained prominent.

“Let’s go to your place, then,” she urged. “Or my hotel. It’s an easy walk.”

“No, no—I’m sorry—I should never have allowed...” He wrung his hands, looking worried and lost. What had happened to the calm, self-confident genius she’d admired all afternoon? Jason suddenly seemed a decade younger than his thirty years.

 

Find individual buy links at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/singaporeflingbook.html

Or on KU: https://www.amazon.com/Asian-Adventures-Erotic-tales-East-ebook/dp/B08XW69V2R

A sojourn in Singapore – #MFRWHooks #EroticRomance #Asia

I just got back from a vacation that included several fantastic days in Singapore. So I thought I’d give you a Book Hooks snippet set in that remarkable city. Singapore Fling is part of my Asian Adventures series. The stories are available individually, or as a boxed set in KU.

Blurb

Thai entrepreneur Ploy Kaewkornwattanasakul has come to Singapore to close a deal. Ploy needs to convince tech whiz Jason Chow to license his ground-breaking innovation to her company on favorable terms. The future of her startup depends on her negotiating skill. When she meets Jason, though, she realizes she wants not just the invention, but the inventor, too.

Jason Chow is a brilliant engineer, a successful businessman and a bit of a rebel. He’s attracted to Ploy from the moment he sets eyes on her. However, he doesn’t dare respond to her advances, for fear she’ll discover his secret vice.

Ploy doesn’t understand why the sexy CEO has rejected her. She figures she’ll have to content herself with the cold comfort of a signed contract—unless the strength of Jason’s desire overwhelms his shame.

The Hook

Interia’s offices were exactly what Ploy had expected, functional but unprepossessing, crammed with desks, computer equipment and filing cabinets. Half a dozen more or less interchangeable Chinese guys sat in front of their monitors, some staring intently at the screen, others typing furiously. They barely looked up when Ploy entered. However, a diminutive young woman seated at a corner desk rose to greet her.

“Ms. Kaewkornwattanasakul?” The pronunciation was pretty close to correct.

Ploy flashed the girl a warm smile. “You can call me Surisa. That’s a lot easier. Or better yet, Ploy. My nickname.”

“Okay—um—Ms. Ploy. Mr. Chow just messaged me. He’s on his way.”

“Great! I am a bit early, I think.” Two minutes. She was grateful they’d renovated the elevators in the old building. She’d been worried about being late.

“If you’ll follow me, please...” The secretary led the way between the desks to a small conference room near the back of the office suite. An oval table and eight surrounding chairs barely fit into the space. However, a lovely view compensated for the crowding.

Instead of the concrete and glass cityscape Ploy expected, the window on the far wall looked out on a paradise of green. A hill rose behind the office building, probably less than half a kilometer away. For the most part, it appeared to be covered with natural vegetation. In the foreground lay several rows of low buildings, but behind them, she saw a steep slope carpeted in foliage. She thought she could see walkways among the old trees. The whole scene looked cool and inviting.

“That’s Pearl Hill,” said the secretary. “There’s a park up there, and a reservoir.”

“It’s beautiful,” Ploy replied. “I didn’t realize there were any parks in this part of the city.”

“At last estimate, more than forty seven percent of Singapore was green space, the second highest percentage of any city in the world,” a male voice interjected. “And the government has policies to increase that proportion.”

Ploy turned away from the window to face the speaker. It took every ounce of her considerable self-discipline not to gasp in shock.

Standing in the doorway was the man from the food court.

“Mr. Chow, this is Ms. Surisa from ShopGuru,” said the receptionist.

The CEO of Interia strode into the office, his hand outstretched. He was even taller than he’d appeared while sitting at his table, at least a head taller than Ploy. “Jason Chow. I’m glad to meet you at last.”

“Mr. Chow. Please call me Ploy.” She was astonished but grateful that her voice didn’t shake. His palm was dry against her own. Her panties were anything but.

“Fine. I hope you’ll call me Jason.” His even voice and neutral expression showed no indication that he recognized her. But how could he not?

With some difficulty due to the crowding, he seated himself at the head of the table. “Sit down, please. I’m sorry about the lack of space.”

Ploy gave him what she hoped was a collegial smile. “I understand. We’re a startup too.” She wormed her way into a chair with her back to the window. She did not want to be distracted.

Chow gave a low chuckle. “True. Would you like coffee or tea?”

“I’d love some coffee.”

“Anna, would you bring two coffees? And tell Franklin and James to join us.”

The young woman hurried away, leaving the two of them alone. Ploy rummaged in her purse to avoid looking at him. “Let me give you my card....”

The man waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. He had long, slender fingers. Ploy immediately wished she hadn’t noticed this fact. She couldn’t help imaging them exploring her increasingly juicy orifices.

“That’s not necessary,” he said. “This is the twenty-first century. And I already know about you, after all.”

Ploy blushed—she could feel the blood climbing into her cheeks. Fortunately, Jason was looking at his tablet, not at her. He seemed to be reviewing her resume.

“Bachelors and masters in engineering from Chulalongkorn University. The Harvard of Thailand, or so I’ve heard.”

“Not the same...” she began.

“Then a stint with Microsoft Thailand and another with Google.” He raised his head. She realized that he was wearing his glasses. Alas, they made him look even sexier. “Why’d you leave?”

“Why did you quit your research job at Nanyang University?” she countered. “I wanted to be my own boss.”

“And you had an idea,” he added. “One that you thought could be the basis for a successful business.”

“Exactly,” she replied, grateful that he had adopted such a professional manner. “Just like you. Except that Interia has ten times more investment than we do.”

He peered at her over the top of his glasses and smiled. “Well, it’s not how much you have that counts, is it? It’s what you do with it.”

Find individual buy links at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/singaporeflingbook.html

Or on KU: https://www.amazon.com/Asian-Adventures-Erotic-tales-East-ebook/dp/B08XW69V2R

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

The Camp Shifter Series by DJ Jennings is Now in KU!

This paranormal romantic comedy series features standalone stories set at Camp Shifter, a mandatory training facility where adults receive "The Letter" summoning them to learn shifter ways. After experiencing The Morph—the transformation that reveals their animal nature—they must master everything from controlling their shifter forms to navigating public nudity with confidence. Camp Shifter provides classes taught by experienced shifters and serves as a community where people from all walks of life must accept a reality fundamentally altered by their newfound status.

Throughout the series, Camp Shifter serves as the backdrop for fated mate romances featuring humor, heat, and heart. Special events like DarkNight create opportunities for connection in a community where transformation extends beyond the physical. With big misunderstandings, opposites-attract dynamics, and forced proximity bringing unlikely pairs together, these romantic comedies blend lighthearted fun with sensual content as characters learn that accepting their shifter identities and finding love often go hand in hand.

Owl Be Bear for You

Hot summer fun where you’ll change…in more ways than one.
Librarian Mara Scioto lives a nice, neat, orderly existence—except when she’s being attacked by uncontrolled male shifters who need to mate. 

Pesky little detail, right? 

Raised by a grandmother who hates all shifters, she has one wish: to make it past the age of twenty-five without experiencing The Morph that tells you you’re one of them.

And then the letter from Camp Shifter arrives with her name on it...

Orthopedic surgeon in training Jack Karsten is waiting to see if he’ll follow in his shifter brother’s footsteps. Being a shifter won’t be so bad, if that’s his destiny, but when he meets Mara, he realizes that fate and love don’t always align. 

But love always wins.

It can be a bear of an ordeal sorting it all out, but if anyone can help, it’s the staff at Camp Shifter. While they’ll train Jack and Mara on the ways of shifter life, there’s one thing they can’t teach them:

How to get out of their own way and let love leave them changed. 

Forever.

You Shook Me Howl Night Long

Eliot “Pole” Elianzo is a god in college football, and he knows it. Too bad he’s also a polar bear. The Morph happens on national television, right after a pro team picks him in the draft. It’s official–Pole is a shifter. And boy, is he livid. He can’t choose practice over his mandatory stay at Camp Shifter, but he sure can make camp a nightmare for everyone. Especially the hot ash blonde who’s teaching Undressed in Public 101 classes. 

Risa Devaneau can’t believe Pole’s in her class, in the first row, and very, very undressed. The former sportscaster and wolf shifter ran away from her testosterone-filled career for the quiet peace of Camp Shifter. Sure, teaching people how to be undressed in public isn’t exactly the most prestigious job, but it got her away from the city. From her overly controlling politician father. From her past. From Pole. And here he is, smirking at her, front and center. In his birthday suit.

DarkNight of the Moon

He lurks in shadows and mystery at Camp Shifter, coming out only during DarkNight, the wild, bacchanalian free-for-all where anything goes. 

Anything.

No one has seen him in the daylight, no one knows where he lives, no one knows his name–and the shifter nicknamed DarkLover by women, DarkDude by men, will do anything to keep it that way.

Andie Cumbington has been waiting her whole life for The Letter. One of the few shifters who is ecstatic about her newfound status, the chestnut-haired ballerina bear shifter arrives for her month at Camp Shifter with unbridled excitement. On her first DarkNight, she finds wild passion and–to her surprise–so much more, with a stranger who touches her heart as much as he lights up her body.

And then he’s gone, back into the shadows, hidden.

Exactly where he wants to be. 

Craving his touch with an insatiable desire, Andie can’t let go. She always wanted the roll in the hay, but she never imagined the passion would be so intense.

Fate drives her to find love.

Then a simple errand turns into mortal danger for Andie, and an impossible choice as DarkLover must overcome his biggest fear in order to save the woman he loves.

But will it be too late?

Buy Links

Amazon/KU Series Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PT45ZLW

Amazon/KU Link for Owl Be Bear for You ($4.99): https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B073ZMCJPX

Amazon/KU Link for You Shook Me Howl Night Long ($4.99): https://www.amazon.com/Shook-Howl-Night-Long-Shifter/dp/1799035832/

Amazon/KU Link for DarkNight of the Moon ($4.99): https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1950172147

Tropes

Owl Be Bear For You

• Fated Mates

• Big Misunderstanding

• Librarian Heroine

• Opposites Attract

• Awkward Hero

• Hidden Shifter Identity

• Romantic Comedy

• Forced Proximity

You Shook Me Howl Night Long

• Second Chance Romance

• Celebrity Athlete Hero

• Former Rivals/Reunion Romance

• Forced Proximity

• Fish Out of Water

• Wolf Shifter Romance

• Camp Romance

• Opposites Attract

DarkNight of the Moon

• Mysterious Hero

• Beauty and the Beast Vibes

• Grumpy/Sunshine

• Protector Hero

• Hidden Identity

• Dark Paranormal Romance

• Fated Mates

• Dangerous Secrets

• Redemption Arc

Excerpt: DarkNight of the Moon

Andie sat in her 9 a.m. class, Meditation and Your Inner Shifter, and tried really hard to be aware and present.

She failed.

Shira Prakash was a wise old woman, slow and incredibly bendy. As she stared at her teacher’s braid, the long, tight weave of it going all the way down past the woman’s butt crack, Andie wondered whether Shira was a snake or a sloth. She’d learned here at Camp Shifter that asking someone what kind of animal they were could be a landmine. Some people were excited to share the reality with you.

Others found the question to be an invasion of privacy.

Andie was an open book, so she didn’t understand the people who were more introverted and secretive about the kind of animal they became when nature took over. Weren’t they all here to learn about and explore the core self?

These thoughts filled her mind, all jumbled and spinning as she sat with her legs crossed, the backs of her hands pressing into her knees. If she were being graded for Meditation and Your Inner Shifter, she would definitely be failing the course.

“Imagine your core animal,” Shira said, her elegant fingers stretching long and splayed as she moved her arm to the right, like a large bird, wings and feathers spreading. “You are receiving their vibration into your root chakra.”

A fox shifter named Sally leaned over and whispered, “What’s a chakra?”

Andie’s stomach growled in response. “I don’t know, but it sounds pretty tasty.”

Giggling, Sally quickly righted herself and closed her eyes again, hands in proper meditation position as the teacher cocked one eyebrow but said nothing. The fox's red hair rested in long tendrils on her shoulders, her slightly slanted eyes beautiful when closed.

“If it is hard to focus,” Shira said, “consider labeling what you are experiencing inside, as you attempt to peel back layer after layer to access your inner shifter. No one is perfect when it comes to meditation. In fact, that is why we call it practice,” she continued.

Andie felt an enormous sense of relief at that. At least there was a reason why she couldn’t figure out how to do this. Calming her mind was as foreign to her as climbing Mount Everest.

“When you find yourself invaded by stray thoughts that take you away from accessing the emptiness that you seek, just give them a name: ‘That’s a thought.’ When you think about lunch as you’re trying to find your inner animal, think to yourself, ‘That’s a thought.’ When your mind drifts to a bill you forgot to pay, or a craving for coffee, or ‘Did I remember to take my medication this morning?’, just tell yourself, ‘Oh! That’s a thought’; ‘Oh! That’s a thought.’”

Sally leaned over and whispered, “And if you can’t stop thinking about DarkLover, ‘Oh! That’s a thought.’”

Andie covered her mouth, giggling hard. She had felt him outside, her pores tingling and alert, aware of him out there. How do you go through session after session of training, she wondered to herself, when the very person you want to meet most is there on the periphery? He was on the edges of the camp, she knew.

No one had told her this. It was more than instinct, even. She knew it, the way that she knew who she was. It was there, planted deep inside her by some force she didn’t understand. Nothing in her life had compared to this feeling, pure sensation and an intuitive knowing combined inside to create a strange power that connected her to him.

Was she imagining this? Was her obsession with DarkLover running amok, just some wish-fulfillment frenzy that she was indulging?

She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she met him.

About the Author

The author of the Camp Shifter series, Darla Josephine “DJ” Jennings, is originally from Ohio but now lives in Massachusetts in a household full of people who drive her nuts, but she loves them anyhow. She fills her days with writing, business management, and the never-ending task of herding cats. Learn more about her in the New York Times bestselling novel, Random Acts of Crazy by Julia Kent, where she stars as one of the main characters. That’s right! DJ Jennings isn’t real, but Julia Kent sure is.

Website: http://jkentauthor.com/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jkentauthor

Newsletter: http://bit.ly/2PIBi9n

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

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/dj-jennings

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17035252.D_J_Jennings

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B07568TW8X

Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.

Charity Sunday: Acts of Compassion – #CharitySunday #SuperHeroes

Last month for Charity Sunday I featured MSF, a well-known and respected organization that addresses itself to global problems. For this month, I’m supporting an organization I’m sure you’ve never heard of: A Future Superhero and Friends.

 

AFSF (as I’ll call it) isn’t an international organization. It’s the brain child of a single man, Yuri Williams, who started offering loving service to people in need – former prisoners on probation, the homeless, addicts, orphans – as a path to heal from his own grief. I first read his story here https://www.unity.org/en/article/how-one-mans-superhero-costume-became-his-calling and was deeply touched. Giving money to people is of course a worthwhile thing to do, but giving of oneself is perhaps the true essence of charity.

People like Yuri don’t just improve the lives of the individuals whom they directly help. Simply reading his story helped bring more light into my world.

Anyway, I will give two dollars to AFSF for each comment I receive on this post. Don’t be shy!

I wanted to do an excerpt featuring a super-hero, but I couldn’t think of any story I’ve written that fits the bill. Rather surprising, actually. As the next best thing, I’ve got a bit from my MM short story “To Boldly Go”, in which I have characters masquerading as Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Uhura – definitely cultural heroes. To make this more appropriate, the story was written for a charitable anthology edited by Nobilis Reed for the Coming Together series of altruistic erotica.

https://www.amazon.com/Coming-Together-Outside-Nobilis-Reed-ebook/dp/B00UUBX34E

Excerpt

Males outnumber females by about four to one, I estimate – based, of course, on the attendees’ apparent gender. But who knows, right? Maybe some of the guys are actually gals. I think about Lorelei’s girlfriend Chaz, who’s so butch even I find her attractive. The realization that the crowd might contains other gender-bending outlaws gives me a secret buzz.

I spot one other Uhura, a slender white woman with fewer curves than I have. I can’t quite dismiss my feeling smug satisfaction. I’m more beautiful that she is, and I know it.

So where should I go first? Star Trek: Insurrection is scheduled to screen at eleven. I’ve only seen it once, on video. The seminar on Klingon grammar might be fun. There’s also a session about the new film supposedly coming in 2016.

I’m standing in the middle of the hall, scanning the convention program, when he slams into me from behind. The jolt almost dislodges the stuffing from my bra. I forget to adjust my pitch.

“Oof! Jeez, man! Be careful!” I turn to confront the clumsy lout who nearly knocked me over.

“Excuse me! I’m so sorry, miss! I was cleaning my glasses and didn’t notice...” He’s crouched at my feet, in fact, picking up a pair of dark-framed spectacles he obviously dropped on impact. He looks up at me with the most gorgeous pair of sky-blue eyes I’ve ever seen – somewhat unfocused, but full of a special light.

A surge of lust washes away my anger. “Oh, dear – I hope they’re not broken.” This time I sound more like a girl.

He favors me with a brilliant smile before settling the glasses on his razor-straight nose. “They seem okay.” With a smooth grace that makes me sweat, he rises to a standing position. He’s lean, athletic looking, at least half a head taller than me. And he’s obviously costumed as Captain Kirk, in a velvety, gold-toned shirt that shows off his broad shoulders plus tight black trousers that make my mouth water.

He misinterprets the intensity of my gaze. “I know. Who ever heard of Kirk wearing glasses?” He grins and my pulse quickens. “My astigmatism’s so bad, though, that contacts don’t really work for me.

“Actually, I was thinking you look quite a bit like the captain,” I gush. He does, too, with his tousled, sandy hair, high forehead and determined chin. The glasses make him look less macho than Kirk’s normal demeanor, more scholarly, but they don’t mar the resemblance too much. Certainly he has the same hero’s physique.

“Well, you’re the image of Uhura. You’ve really got her look.”

“Thanks.” I hold out my hand, uncharacteristically forward. “I’m Jen, by the way.”

“Peter.” His grip is firm, his skin cool. My cock leaks pre-cum into my constraining undergarments. “Nice to meet you, Jen.”

“Likewise.” I glance around at the crowd, thinning as participants disappear into various sessions. I want to drag him into an empty meeting room and peel that form-fitting uniform off his obviously sculpted chest. I push the idea to the background – maybe later? - and struggle to keep the conversation going. “Good attendance this year.”

“Oh? This is my first West Coast con. Just moved here from Boston three weeks ago. I’m doing my residency at Good Samaritan Hospital.”

“Oh – you’re a doctor! I’m surprised you didn’t dress up as McCoy.”

“Irony is not really my style.” He looks embarrassed, younger than he must be if he’s a resident physician. He’s staring at me at least as intently as I’m looking at him.

The silence lengthens. I realize he hasn’t released my hand. An ache grows in my chest, as if someone was pumping it full of gas. My dick is like living stone.

Those glorious baby blues trap me in place. I can’t move, can’t speak. The slightest vibration, and I’ll explode.

He feels it, too, the heat, the connection. But he thinks I’m a woman.

That recognition is simultaneously thrilling and frustrating. He’s attracted to me, that’s clear – attracted to Jen – a girl, a fellow Trekkie, costumed as the dusky-skinned, exotic Uhura. He’s straight. There’s no way I’m going to get what I want.

And yet this is what I want, in some strange, twisted way.

Peter finally releases my hand and manages to jump start our stalled conversation. “I was at Star Trek Las Vegas last year. What a madhouse! I like these local cons a lot more.”

“I feel the same. A lot more intimate.” Oh my god, did I really say that? “I did the San Francisco con in 2012 – thought I’d suffocate in the crowds.”

“Pricey, too! Hundreds of bucks just to see third or fourth tier characters.” He shook his head. “My fiancée thought I was nuts.”

Ouch! Yeah, I know he’s straight, but I hate to be reminded. And apparently taken as well. “I gather she’s not a Trekkie.”

The handsome doctor gives me a peculiar look. Am I coming on too strong? Too personal?

“Um – no. Maybe that’s one reason we fell apart.”

“Oh – I’m sorry...”

He gives me a genuine Captain Kirk, we-can-deal-with-any-problem smile. “Never mind. That’s ancient history – but one reason I chose the West Coast for my residency.”

“Plus we have more Star Trek events than any other part of the country.” I straighten my Starfleet emblem and gaze up at him, basking in his beauty. Even behind his glasses, his eyes sparkle like giant sapphires.

“Well, there is that... Speaking of which, it’s nearly ten. Where are you headed for the next session? I was thinking about the Klingon tutorial.”

“Me too!” I consult my program. “Meeting room 2, up on the mezzanine.”

“Let’s go.” He rests his hand on my shoulder for a moment.

Heat blazes through me, targeting my groin. An instant later he snatches his arm away, as if burned. Guess he feels it too. 

 

If this sounds like fun, go grab a copy of the anthology. It’s for a good cause!

And speaking of good causes, please, please, leave a comment! Be a superhero yourself.

Thank you.

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Join us for Charity Saturday, 28 June 2026 #CharitySundaySignup #Altruism #Marketing

Image by Talpa 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 Sunday, June 28th, is our next Charity Sunday.

If you do decide to join me, I hope you’ll download my 2026 banner:

https://www.lisabetsarai.com/2026CharitySundayBanner.jpg

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 June 28^th, 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.

Be sure to use the new Charity Sunday banner!

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

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2026/05/charity-sunday-where-help-is-needed-msf.html

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Gender-bending in London – #PrideMonth #Bisexuality #MFRWHooks

For today, the last Book Hooks hop in Pride Month, I’m sharing a more transgressive scene involving LGBTQ+ interactions than in my earlier posts. Incognito, my second novel, originally published in 2002 and now in its fourth edition, is unquestionably a romance. However, it is also the story of a woman’s journey to understand her own desires. When I first started writing, that was one of my personal motivations and I extended it to my characters.

I’ve always been attracted to scenarios that blur gender. In this scene, my main characters Miranda and Mark are in London for a conference, a city that Mark knows well. He has promised her new adventures; he delivers on that promise by dressing her as a man then bringing her with him to a gay gentleman’s club.

This might seem extreme to some readers, but I personally find the notions of cross-dressing and bisexuality to be very erotic. Note, too, that only a couple who truly trusted one another would ever embark on this sort of adventure.

Blurb

During the day, Miranda Cahill works diligently on her doctoral thesis. At night, she has sex with strangers. Her secret life explodes when she realizes her masked partner at a kink club and the charismatic colleague courting her are in fact the same person – the one man who can teach her to accept her diverse desires, as well as to trust her heart.

The Hook

It was a twenty-minute ride. They emerged in a brightly lit street bustling with people. Mark took her arm and led her along the sidewalk, past trendy-looking restaurants crowded with well-dressed diners, up-market bars leaking jazz into the night, and mysterious closed doors adorned with gleaming brass hardware. They stopped in front of one of the latter, beautifully carved oak with a brass plaque and bell. “Harkness Club”, Miranda read, as Mark pressed the button.

The door was opened by a clean-shaven young man wearing a crimson bellboy’s uniform. He looked them up and down in an openly appraising manner. What he saw must have satisfied him, for he nodded and gave them a stiff little smile. “Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to the Harkness Club.” They followed him into a modest anteroom furnished with coat hooks, an umbrella rack, and hunting prints. At the far end of the room was an arch covered with red velvet drapes. With a flourish, their guide pulled back the drapes to let them pass. “The curtain rises,” murmured Mark under his breath. Electric anticipation shot through Miranda’s body.

She was not sure what to expect, but her initial reaction was disappointment. The room on the other side of the curtains was large but remarkably ordinary. A gleaming mahogany bar ran along one wall. Brass trim and ranks of glassware suspended from the ceiling reflected the golden light of ceiling fixtures with oiled paper shades. The rest of the room contained shadowy groupings of low tables and chairs. Semi-circular couches hugged the wall in the corners. The room was fairly full. People perched on bar stools, clustered around the tables, or simply stood around in tight knots with their drinks. Some violin piece played softly in the background. The swelling sound of conversation frequently overwhelmed it.

It took Miranda three breaths to notice that every one of the patrons was male.

The rich paneling, leather upholstery and old-fashioned lighting were so quintessentially traditional that Miranda expected more foxes and hounds, or perhaps flowers and fruit, to adorn the walls. When she looked closely at the many paintings, however, she saw that they were male nudes, artistic as opposed to raunchy, but undeniably erotic. She looked at Mark. “This is a gay bar,” she whispered, feeling a tiny hint of panic.

Mark grinned ever so slightly. “Well, you might call it that. I prefer to think of it as a gentlemen’s club.”

As they walked into the room, Miranda felt the eyes of the patrons, discreetly surveying the new arrivals. She was suddenly, intensely, aware of the sock distending her trousers. Mark steered them to a table near one corner. A waiter appeared immediately. Mark ordered whisky for both of them.

“We can leave at any time,” he told her. “However, I thought that you might find this scene interesting. It is considerably more tasteful than many gay bars back in the States. There are no chaps showing bare butts, no tattoos, no strategically torn jeans. The only leather you’ll see is three-hundred quid custom-made suits. Even in this environment, the Brits are restrained. Personally, I find the additional social constraints heighten the erotic tension.”

“You think that everything heightens erotic tension!” commented Miranda, sipping her drink.

Before he could answer, she noticed a man approaching their table. He was medium height, trimly built, with salt and pepper hair and a small moustache. His clothing was well-tailored but conservative. He favored them with a slightly nervous smile as he reached them.

“Good evening,” he said. “Do you mind if I join you?” He had a cultured voice. His accent reminded Miranda suddenly of Geoffrey. The memory made her sex heavy and wet.

“Please do,” said Mark, standing up to allow the other man access to the empty chair on the other side of the table. And to show off his physique, Miranda suddenly realized. There was just a hint of swish in Mark’s manner, a roll of the hips and a tilt of the chin that were not typical of his usual movement. As soon as their guest was seated, Mark held out a friendly hand. “I’m Marcus,” he said, “and this is my friend Randy.”

“Peter,” responded their guest. “I’m pleased to meet you both.”

“Likewise, Peter.”

“You’re American, aren’t you?” Mark nodded. “In London on business?”

“A bit of business, a bit of pleasure, you might say.”

There was general laughter. Miranda thus far had not dared say a word. She was fascinated, watching Mark flirt with their companion. Peter was attractive for a mature man. He had a ready smile and graceful, well-groomed hands. He and Mark chatted about London sights, shopping, entertainment. To Miranda, it seemed like every comment Mark made was a double entendre. Peter leaned forward, his lips slightly parted, his pale blue eyes gleaming, attention totally focused on her lover. Miranda felt slightly invisible. She didn’t mind.

They finished their drinks. Mark was about to order another round, but Peter held up his hand. “Excuse me, but I’ve got to visit the loo.” He strode across the room and disappeared through a doorway on the far side.

“Come on,” said Mark, grabbing Miranda’s hand and pulling her in the same direction.

“What…?”

“It’s a signal,” whispered Mark. “Come on.”

You’ll find buy links for Incognito, including the print edition, at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/incognitobook.html