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

Review Tuesday: The Manipulation of Satine by JL Peridot

The Manipulation of Satine by JL Peridot

Muscoca Media, 2026

Satine Luna likes to think that she’s in control, but now her life is in the hands of Warden Jet. Caught in the act of stealing and detained against her will on a remote moon, she has no idea what to expect. Is she a prisoner facing punishment for her illegal behavior or a patient in a non-orthodox program of therapeutic rehabilitation? Either way, what thrilling, obscene acts will she be forced to perform next?

The Manipulation of Satine is the second installment in JL Peridot’s erotic science fiction quintet. This volume is easily as steamy as the first, adding Sapphic delights to the delicious and frustrating attentions of the sexy warden. It also includes a variety of intriguing sci fi details, such as skin paints that elicit emotional responses and smart doors that can display scenes of distant places. The author leaves us wondering about the purpose of the facility where Satine is imprisoned, as well as the nature of the powers that manage it.

I enjoyed this tale—I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve ever read by this author—but I found it too brief. Although the erotic scenes are gorgeous and intense, in some sense nothing happens. Satine does gain some insight into the true nature of her supposed connection to her planet-side band of criminal comrades, but I was left wondering just what it would mean for her to be “rehabilitated”. Meanwhile, is it feasible to believe (as a romantic would like) that the dutiful Warden Jet will develop a special relationship with his assigned charge?

Only the next books will tell. I still have three to go, and the author has hinted that the connection between Satine and Jet will be more than just casual sex.

We shall see.

A window into the afterlife – #CozyMystery #London #Giveaway

Blurb

Most sleuths don’t have the advantage of talking to the murder victim for clues, but Saffron has a window into the afterlife. The problem is, she's not a detective and has no wish to be.

In the charming heart of London’s Notting Hill, Saffron juggles motherhood, running an animal welfare foundation, and counseling recently deceased spirits—the invisibles. But her peaceful routine is upended when a spirit insists she solve the mystery of his untimely death. Lucas Troy pops into her awareness claiming he was killed and demanding she figure out who did it. He wants justice before he'll agree to move on. ButSaffron's role isn't to play detective, but to help each invisible plan for the next adventure in living. She asks Lucas if he suspects anyone in the circle at his aunt’s tea party where he died. He can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill him, but he persuades Saffron to interview them all.

She feels for Lucas, who had hardly begun his life, and she tries to persuade him that he can have a great future next lifetime, but finally she gives in and agrees to a little investigating. If she finds out something, perhaps he’ll agree to move forward. But the closer she gets to the possible killer, the more she’s in danger. Saffron has no wish to join Lucas in The Room Over There.

Settle in to a cozy mystery with a touch of the supernatural, the heartwarming chaos of family, and the charm of London’s Notting Hill. "Interesting characters, intriguing mystery."

Excerpt

The letter slipped through the mail slot in their antique front door with an audible swish. Saffron happened to be there to hear and see it hit the polished wood floor. How could a letter carry such a whiff of danger? It was just an envelope, but an unusually shaped, almost square one, and so creamy as almost to be a shade of pale yellow.

But a single envelope, not the usual delivery of assorted mail. Someone besides the mailman had slipped it into their house, and with its thick cream paper and carefully lettered addresses it felt like an intrusion. It wasn’t time for the mail delivery. This was more personal.

She picked it up, turned it over, and saw a gold sticker sealing the point of the flap. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make this squarish letter seem like an invitation. The text on her phone came to mind, the warning to stop looking into Lucas’ death. Had it come from Lucas’ killer?

Holding the unopened envelope, Saffron shivered. She stepped to the hallway table and picked up the gleaming silver knife. A letter opener with scrolls and a faux Shelley family crest, gift from her sister Elinor as a joke. For easily opening letters from the living dead, as Elinor’s card had read.

Feeling slightly armed, Saffron sliced open the envelope and pulled out a heavy stock card. It was indeed an invitation.

Do you like puzzles? Come to an evening of mystery, fun, and tantalizing who-dun-it.

It was from Paul Everson, the real estate developer and possible murderer. Did he want to lure her into a trap with a snide reference to her suspicions? And how would he know she suspected him, if he wasn’t the killer?

About the Author

Rachel Dacus is the author of eight novels and five poetry collections. Her fiction features love and relationships, exotic locations and intrepid heroines, and emotional journeys of self-discovery, all with a touch of the supernatural. Her poetry, stories, and essays have appeared widely in print and online literary journals and anthologies. She enjoys life in the beautiful San Francisco Bay Area, with its coast and trails where she walks her tiny but mighty Silky Terrier with her architect husband.

Website: http://www.racheldacus.net/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Rachel_Dacus

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

 

Buy Link

https://www.amazon.com/Deadly-Tea-cozy-mystery-Invisibles-ebook/dp/B0GPT7ZLFW

Rachel Dacus will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner.

Friday Smooch: Why should we stop? – #BDSMEroticRomance #FirstKiss #FridaySmooch

For today’s Friday Smooch, I’m sharing the first kiss in my steamy yet sweet BDSM erotic romance, The Gazillionaire and the Virgin.

Blurb

She’s the billionaire. He’s the virgin. Still, he knows how to make her melt.

When Silicon Valley entrepreneur Rachel Zelinsky meets reclusive genius Theo Moore, she has a single objective —a deal to incorporate his AI software into her company’s popular virtual world. She finds Theo to be arrogant, sensitive and socially awkward, but his aura of power speaks to her carefully-hidden submissive side. Confused and aroused, she falls under his geeky spell.

Theo Moore can’t be bought. His past battles with poverty make him deeply suspicious of the billionaire CEO, though Rachel’s voluptuous curves and brilliant mind embody his ultimate fantasy. Too bad his knowledge about sex derives from extensive research and a stash of kinky porn rather than real-world experience.

Rachel may be Theo’s first lover, but Theo is her first true Master. One word from him, one touch, and she surrenders to bliss. It seems that love and complementary desire may harmonize their differing values, until Rachel’s unwitting violation of Theo’s trust tears them apart.

The Smooch (Rated R)

“You were doing so well, though. I was so proud of you.” She gives my fingers a squeeze. I squeeze back, amazed that I can be so comfortable with her touching me.

“But now I’ve disappointed you, I imagine.” I try sitting up straighter. It’s awkward with only one hand free. I want to adjust the swollen lump pressing against my zipper, but of course I don’t dare. “And the donors—they’re probably all laughing their millionaire heads off at poor, pathetic Theo Moore.”

“Not at all. Everyone was quite worried about you. Roger Varley wanted to call an ambulance, but I thought you’d really rather go home.”

“You were right. Thank you. But how did you get me up to the second floor and into bed?”

“It wasn’t easy.” Her whole face lights up when she laughs. “You’re a big guy. The gardener helped me bundle you up the stairs. I fished the key out of your trouser pocket.”

The concept of her hand wriggling into my pants, her heat warming my body—it’s too much. My cock surges, threatening a premature explosion. I’ve got to get Rachel Zelinsky out of here, before I really embarrass myself.

As gently as I can, not wanting to offend her, I pry my fingers away from hers. “Thank you for your help, Rachel. You can leave now. I’m fine. And it must be late.”

“Only ten thirty. Anyway, I’m not going anywhere just yet.” She rises from her chair and perches on the edge of my bed, leaning in my direction, her bare shoulder mere inches from my tensed body. Her musky perfume envelopes me.

I draw a desperate breath. My cock quivers. Clearly my expensive, custom-tailored trousers are doomed.

“No, Theo. You and I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

I don’t know how she manages it. It happens too fast for me to analyze. Before I can react or protest, roll off the bed or wriggle away, she has straddled my waist, bent herself double and pressed her soft, firm lips to mine.

I freeze. I don’t dare move a muscle. My hands become claws as I fight the urge to seize her hips and thrust up against the warm fullness of her satin-clad bottom. It’s pure instinct. Nothing could have prepared me for its power. My only recourse is to tighten every muscle in my poor body and hold on.

Her mouth is gentle at first, teasing, exploring. She tastes like the champagne in which I overindulged. As she kisses me, joy bubbles up in my chest, despite the precarious state of my cock. I’m drunk on her nearness. When her agile tongue prods at my tightly compressed lips, I open to let her in, craving more of the scent, the flavor, the texture of Rachel Zelinsky.

My surrender appears to inflame her. Gathering me from the pillow, clutching me to her breast with surprisingly strong arms, she delves deeper. She sucks my tongue into the juicy recesses of her own mouth. I can’t help but think of her other warm, wet places.

Oh my God! I’m leaking into my boxers, poised on the edge of annihilation. It’s glorious, terrifying, sweeter and darker than I’d ever dreamed it could be. Rachel’s kisses steal my breath and my will. Meanwhile she’s swirling her hips in slow circles on my belly, her ripe ass brushing my hardness on each cycle.

“Rachel,” I gasp, tearing myself from her perilous, intoxicating mouth. “Stop. We’ve got to stop...”

Releasing me so that I drop back onto the pillow, she rears back to fix me with her bright, golden eyes. “Why?” Her bruised lips are parted to show her perfect teeth. “Why should we stop?”

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