Enchanting Halloween romance from @TinaDonahue! #PNR #PastLives #Halloween

Halloween isn’t always scary. Sometimes, it’s romantic in a way you’d never believe.

Blurb

Passion. Friendship. Love. Some things a man simply can’t forget…

Finn has no idea what he’s doing at a haunted house on Halloween, but his tour guide Caty certainly rocks his world. Irresistibly drawn to her, he indulges in wicked delight and a return to their shared destiny.

AMAZON: https://amzn.to/34ksMB2

EXTASY: https://bit.ly/2Npnmh6

Excerpt

Home. The word popped unbidden into Finn Gallagher’s mind. An odd occurrence even on Halloween when supernatural events supposedly ruled.

Not being superstitious, he should have smiled but couldn’t.

A Victorian house loomed before him, its façade painted rose, gingerbread trim strikingly white. Its vintage sign proclaimed—Haunted House Tours.

Definitely not home.

Children dashed past, costumed to resemble ghouls, reviled politicians, or popular media figures. Wonder Woman kicked butt for the girls. The genie from Aladdin edged out the Lion King for the boys. Kids swarmed the neighborhood and worked their way down the street. Their shrieks and shrill laughter faded. None bothered with the tour.

Maybe it sucked.

Finn had no idea about that or why he was here, unable to recall the trip or this destination.

Blustery wind swept across Lake Huron. The wintry blast tousled his hair, rattled bare tree limbs, and delivered an unbearable chill from the water. He clutched his coat closer to his throat and lifted his face. Ominous clouds pressed in. Coming rain scented the air.

Honeyed light poured from the house, the glow warm and inviting.

Strange that a haunted house should seem safer and more enticing than the street. Whoever had planned this tour was clueless as to what the public wanted or children demanded. A new group of kids ignored the place, not even bothering to check out the two bicycles abandoned on the expansive front lawn. The bikes, along with rollerblades and skateboards, were the only transportation allowed on the island.

He stilled, not certain how he’d known that. Probably had been on the sign. Nope. On a brochure? He patted his pockets. No literature there. Mystified, he stepped closer to the place.

A young woman stood on the widow’s walk. Her waist-length blonde hair and long white dress whipped in the stiff breeze. She leaned against the railing and offered a welcoming smile.

Intense heat coursed through him. His knees wobbled.

Something creaked.

The front door had blown in…unless it had opened on its own.

Dismissing such a crazy notion, he lifted his hand in greeting to the woman.

Gone. Where?

Shadowed figures passed the upstairs windows, gauzy curtains making them indistinct. The promised ghosts? He wanted to laugh but didn’t. One form stood a head taller than the other. Had to be a man with the young woman he’d seen. The guy was most likely her lover or husband.

Inexplicable sorrow gripped Finn followed by acute loss for someone he’d yet to meet. Definitely time to go. This was nuts.

He pivoted.

A strong violet scent surrounded him even though no flowers bloomed on the bushes. Drawn by the fragrance, he hurried up the walk toward the house.

A child darted into his path.

He reared back to avoid colliding with the little girl.

Unmindful of his presence, she waved and shouted to her companions. “Hold up! You’re going too fast!”

Laughing, they bolted away and taunted. “Slowpoke. Slowpoke. Slowpoke.”

She ran toward them, tripped on her witch costume, and tumbled to the grass.

“Whoa.” Finn crossed the lawn and touched her arm to help. “You okay?”

“No!” Crying, she shoved spilled candy into her sack and raced to her friends.

They laughed at her witch nose, bent from her fall. She giggled with them and set the thing right.

A gust scented from violets slammed into Finn and pushed him to the house.

Heart pounding, he crossed the porch and stopped in the foyer painted a cheery yellow with white moldings. Furniture from way back when decorated the expansive space.

Footfalls sounded overhead. One heavy. One lighter. The man and woman from the windows. He tilted his face to the ceiling. The couple crossed from room to room, working their way back to the master suite.

His skin prickled. He hadn’t a clue how he’d known that. Wait. The widow’s walk was on that side. Made sense the largest bedroom would be, too. He’d painted enough client portraits in front of and inside Victorian structures to know the architecture.

Relieved, he lowered his face and started.

The young blonde woman from earlier looked at him worriedly, her slender eyebrows lifted. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” She rested her hand on his arm. “Are you all right?”

More like delighted to have her next to him instead of upstairs with the man…and the other woman. “Yeah.”

“I’m so glad.” Genuine happiness lit her lovely smile.

Her concern comforted and aroused him as nothing had in too many years. Warmth rolled through him, settling in his groin, thickening his cock.

Dark lashes fringed her sapphire-blue eyes. Pink flushed beneath her milky skin. Heat radiated from her despite the cold night and what little she wore. Her white crocheted dress was a throwback to hippy finery popular in the sixties, the intricate design bearing flowers and tassels. Silver rings graced each finger. None resembled an engagement or wedding band, thank God. The contraptions on her feet weren’t exactly shoes. There were no soles, merely braided leather cords wrapped around her slender toes that she’d then tied to her ankles. Dangling feathers and blossoms hammered from silver adorned the leather to make Bohemian wedding sandals.

His arms goose-pimpled. He didn’t want to guess how he’d known the name for her footwear. Never had he been into women’s fashions, especially those from long ago. It was 2019 for Chrissakes, his thirtieth birthday barely past.

She couldn’t have been older than mid-twenties.

“Hi.” He offered his hand. “Finn Gallagher.”

Bliss crossed her lovely features. “Caitlyn.” She slid her fingers over his and squeezed gently.

His hair stood on end, indescribable pleasure filling him. Liking it, he grinned.

Loud laughter rang out overhead. “Did I interrupt your tour?”

“Not at all, Mr. Gallagher. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Follow Tina!

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Free Erotic Horror for #Halloween! #HPLovecraft #Free #Parody

 Image by Waldkunst from Pixabay

Are you a fan of H.P. Lovecraft? Do tentacles make you go all shivery?

If so, grab yourself a copy of my free H.P. Lovecraft parody story, The Shadow over Des Moines.

It’s available at Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, and Kobo. Totally free!

Blurb

When my health forced me to retire from the stresses of my job as a newspaper reporter, I relocated to a quiet neighborhood in Des Moines. I’d hoped to find peace of mind and relief from the terrifying dreams that plagued me after my dear wife’s death. Instead, I found myself in a waking nightmare.

Things that Go Bump - #paranormal #horror #Halloween

Image by socialneuron from Pixabay

 

The costume worked its magic. I was astonished at how regal I looked, and how desirable. The bodice pinched my waist to tiny dimensions, and forced my breasts upwards. The square-cut neckline drew attention to my swelling flesh, barely hiding my nipples. In fact, they were not hidden at all. Though I'd lined the top with muslin as the pattern specified, the tight nubs were clearly visible through several layers of fabric.

I cradled my breasts and used my thumbs to trace circles around those sensitive buds. With each cycle, the spring of tension in my cunt wound tighter. A light flick of my thumbnail sent electricity down my spine and triggered spasms of pleasure. I worried briefly that the juices trickling out of my cunt would spoil the satin. But after all, what did it matter? There was no one to see me tonight, no one to please but myself.

"You certainly do look sexy. Like something right out of de Sade."

"What? Who...?" I whirled around in confusion, my heart slamming against my ribs. The voice had been close, right next to my ear. Yet the room was empty, unchanged. The same rippling walls, the same thread-bare carpet, the same rusty stains on the ceiling. The rumpled bed where I'd had my tantrum. The almost-empty glass on the dresser.

Ah, the liquor. I must be more drunk than I thought. I turned back to the mirror, searching my face for signs of intoxication, and yelped as something, someone, pinched my nipples.

"Hey! That hurts." Indignation overwhelmed fear.

"It does, at first. But afterward, it changes, doesn't it? Afterward, it feels quite delicious." I stared at my image, mouth hanging stupidly open, as invisible hands caressed my tits. Strong hands, gentle hands, hands that seemed to know exactly how to make me shiver with delight. "That's what most people don't understand about pain. It's the gateway to the most exquisite pleasure."

The voice was a melodious baritone, rich, deep, hypnotic. "You fear the pain, but that's foolish. You must surrender to the pain. Let it move through you. Let it wash away your doubts and your inhibitions. Let it open you to ecstasy."

Firm, unseen lips nibbled at my neck. A warm, wet tongue traced the curve from below my ear to my exposed shoulder, then down to the hollow at my throat. With each touch, extravagant new species of pleasure bloomed in my sex. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, savoring the delicate caresses and the amazing sensations that they triggered in my cunt.

Then suddenly, something sharp pierced the rounded flesh of my shoulder. I screamed, surprise heightening the agony that gripped me, and tore myself away from the grasp of the unseen intruder.

My reflection made me gasp in horror and wonder. Droplets of blood oozed from several wounds on my shoulder, wounds arranged in the distinctive semi-circular shape of a bite.

I felt an arm around my waist, pulling me backwards against the unmistakable bulk of a male body. I struggled against his seemingly supernatural strength.

"Let me go!" There were fingers at my back, unlacing and loosening the bodice, working their way into my top.

"Is that really what you want?" A hand snaked into the opening I had left in the voluminous skirts -- a slight modification I had made to the pattern. After all, what was the point of wearing a sexy costume if it made you inaccessible?

Cool fingertips wandered up the inside of my thigh, smearing the damp of my secretions into my bare skin. My clit ached in anticipation. A fresh flow of lubrication made my thighs damper still. "I think that you actually want something else." He found his way into my folds and began massaging the swollen bud at my center.

I moaned and arched backward, my body taking over while my mind whirled in confusion and disbelief.

"Who -- what -- are you?" He slid two fingers deep into my sopping cunt, making me writhe.

"Does it matter?" Now his thumb beat rapidly against my clit, while his fingers stroked my depths. His other hand pumped my tit in the same rhythm. I felt the first shimmers of orgasm, far away like heat lightning on the prairie horizon.

"I am who I am, and I know what you want. What you need." He captured one swollen nipple and squeezed, waking echoes of his previous assault. I yelped and twisted, trying to get away but succeeding only in impaling myself more completely on the hand in my cunt. "Let yourself go, Rebecca," he murmured close to my ear. Lost in a fog of arousal and terror, I hardly wondered that he should know my name.

From Rendezvous

I've written my share of paranormal stories: ghosts, vampires, shape shifters. My creatures are rarely very frightening, though. You'd think that being accosted by an invisible presence in a seedy motel room in the middle of nowhere would be scary as hell, but my character Rebecca is a lot like me—she is more fascinated by the supernatural then terrified. Not to mention aroused.

Magic, even black magic, doesn't scare me. I grew up believing in powers beyond the material world and in some sense I still do. Discovering that the dead walk the earth or that eternal blood drinkers actually exist would give me a thrill. Okay, I'll admit that I've never actually met a ghost or a vampire. My real world reaction might be different than my hypothetical, literary response. I wouldn't bet on that, however. My sense of wonder might well overcome my natural fear.

The things that scare me are far more mundane. Domestic violence. Terrorism. Cancer. Our world is rife with horrors. There's no need to look to the next.

Even when I create a cruel, amoral monster, there's excitement mixed in with the fright. Here's a brief passage from “Fourth World”, my vampire tale that is part of my dark paranormal anthology of the same title.

Mai lays a finger on his lips. “Don’t come yet, little boy. I want you to last a long, long time.” Her finger meanders down over his chin, tracing the line of his throat, down between his erect nipples. As it travels, she increases the pressure. I can see the indentation of her sharp fingernail. By the time she reaches his solar plexus, a red trail follows the finger’s progress. Very slowly, she slices through the skin of his belly, centimeter by centimeter, watching his face. He seems to be in ecstasy.

Blood wells up from the cut. She gathers some with her fingers, licks it off, her eyes closed as if she’s savoring the taste. “Lovely,” she murmurs. “Truly delicious.”

She rocks back and forth on his cock, wringing choked groans from Jeremy’s throat. “Magnificent,” she sighs. Her dagger-like nails open a wound across his right breast. This one is deeper, and bleeds more. Mai bends to lap hungrily at the red fountain. At the same time she pumps him with her pussy, writhing on top of him.

The more blood she drinks, the more excited she becomes. Her nails flash across Jeremy’s torso, carving bloody furrows into his fair skin. Her mouth sucks the ruddy fluid that trickles from a gash near his collarbone. She licks up the gore that pools in his navel. All the while she is bouncing on his obviously still hard cock, moaning and twisting, grinding her pelvis against him.

Then she stops suddenly, breathing hard, her alabaster breasts damp with sweat. “But I should save something for poor Harry, shouldn’t I? You can come, though, little one.” She arches back, and Jeremy yells, again and again. She is milking him, pulling the come from his body. At the same time, she slashes her lethal nails across his throat.

She rises from his twitching body, bends and laps at his bleeding throat. He is still alive. The wound is not that deep. His penis jerks and shudders as she drinks, still hard. Still aroused by her irresistible allure.

“That’s enough for you, for now. I don’t want to use you up all at once.” She turns to me, her black eyes gleaming. “Now, Harry, what about you?” She kneels between my spread thighs. “Are you ready for some fun?”

I should scream. I should fight her. I should too frightened to be aroused. My cock should be limp with terror like the rest of me.

I’m hard as granite.

* * *

Scary? Just enough to turn me on. That's why I love Halloween—a celebration of the dark side where fear acts as an aphrodisiac.

You'll be pleased, I promise - #Halloween #BDSM #MFRWHooks

It’s October and you know what that means.... Halloween is on its way!

In honor of my favorite holiday, today’s hook is a bit from Coming in Costume, my Halloween-themed BDSM erotic romance. The book is light, lively, and very hot.

Blurb

No costume can hide who you really are

When her dominant husband Greg proposes that they attend a company Halloween gala, Isabella is too excited to be suspicious. Unlike her introverted master, she adores parties and dressing up. Greg provides the perfect costumes―a schoolgirl and her stern professor―outfits that are not too revealing or risqué while still celebrating the nature of their relationship. Only after they arrive at the party does Bella learn her Dom has planned a kinky, semi-public scene involving both pain and pleasure―a Halloween masque that includes a starring role for Greg’s best friend James.

The Hook

“On the desk, Miss Archer. Arms out, palms flat.”

I should have realized Greg had something up his sleeve. Normally he hates big parties. His work requires him to interact with all sorts of people, but I know he finds it stressful. To relax he prefers more—how should I put it?—intimate gatherings. So I really should have understood he had some deviant plan in mind when he told me about the Halloween masquerade.

“Samson-Sewell Advertising—you know, Bella, they’re one of our biggest accounts—anyway, they’re throwing a huge Halloween party. Pulling out all the stops, I gather, to impress their clients. They’ve actually hired the Roosevelt Rotunda at the Natural History Museum for the event. I’m surprised that’s even possible, but I guess money talks, and these days they’ve got plenty. Which is great for our firm, of course.”

“And you’re going?” I looked up from my breakfast to scan my husband’s darkly handsome face. A half-smile played on his lips.

“We’re both going. It’s next Saturday night. And they want everyone to come in costume.”

I clapped my hands in delight and his grin broadened. Greg knows how much I adore costumes and role-playing. “Oh, wonderful! Maybe we can go as a pirate and his captive! Or the sheik and the harem girl… Or how about a Roman aristocrat and his slave?”

“You want everyone to know you’re my sub? My filthy, kinky, obedient slut?” He revved the motor of the vibe strapped to my clit. I moaned and clenched my muscles, struggling against orgasm. Fortunately, he released the switch before I lost control.

“Greg—sir—please!” I gasped. “It’s Halloween. The one night we can be someone else!”

“Sounds to me like you want to show off your true self, Bella.”

“I—you know, I just like to play with those fantasies.” Rising from the table, I went to hug him, moving carefully so as not to dislodge the BenWa balls he’d slipped into my pussy before we got out of bed. “But we can wear less—um—revealing costumes if you prefer.”

He nuzzled my hair; I burrowed deeper into the warmth of his arms “I guess that might be better,” I continued, fighting to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “For your business and all.”

“Leave the costumes to me.” His lips grazed mine, triggering a sweet spasm between my legs even though the vibrator was off. “You’ll be pleased, I promise. Trust me, love.”

“You know I do, sir. Always.”

Buy Links

Amazon US - http://www.amazon.com/Coming-Costume-Lisabet-Sarai-ebook/dp/B017A4L2KK/

Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Coming-Costume-Lisabet-Sarai-ebook/dp/B017A4L2KK/

Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/588590

Kobo - https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/coming-in-costume

B&N - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/coming-in-costume-lisabet-sarai/1122870808?ean=2940152434743

Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27388039-coming-in-costume

Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today's blog hop!

 

A sexy Halloween excerpt - and a treat! -- #Halloween #pnr #giftcertificate #69cents

Happy Halloween!

My favorite holiday is finally here! I hope you have plans for tonight—maybe even outrageous ones. In any case, I want to help you celebrate.

Below I’ve got a sexy excerpt from my Halloween paranormal short Rendezvous. For Rebecca, Halloween has always been special, an opportunity for her to cast off her sensible, ordinary self and assume a new look and a new identity: someone extraordinary, sensual and seductive.

When Halloween night finds her stranded by a breakdown in a seedy motel nearly a hundred miles from her friend's annual party, she's terribly frustrated and disappointed. Then she discovers that her room is haunted by the invisible but unquestionably virile ghost of a rake who seduced local women nearly half a century earlier. Gradually, the ghost unmasks Rebecca's secret desires, fulfilling every one.

By the time midnight tolls, Rebecca has come face to face with more magic than she had ever imagined.

Today only, you can get this book for only 69 cents at Totally Bound! And all my other paranormal books are only 99 cents. But don’t wait, because at midnight this offer will be gone like cemetery fog when the sun rises!

Meanwhile, I’ve got a special treat for you. Leave me a comment telling me what you think of the excerpt, or what you’re planning for Halloween. I’ll give a $10 bookstore gift voucher to one lucky person who leaves a comment. (Please include your email so I can get in touch if you’re the winner.)

The costume worked its magic. I was astonished at how regal I looked, and how desirable. The bodice pinched my waist to tiny dimensions, and forced my breasts upwards. The square-cut neckline drew attention to my swelling flesh, barely hiding my nipples. In fact, they were not hidden at all. Though I'd lined the top with muslin as the pattern specified, the tight nubs were clearly visible through several layers of fabric.

I cradled my breasts and used my thumbs to trace circles around those sensitive buds. With each cycle, the spring of tension in my cunt wound tighter. A light flick of my thumbnail sent electricity down my spine and triggered spasms of pleasure. I worried briefly that the juices trickling out of my cunt would spoil the satin. But after all, what did it matter? There was no one to see me tonight, no one to please but myself.

“You certainly do look sexy. Like something right out of de Sade.”

“What? Who...?” I whirled around in confusion, my heart slamming against my ribs. The voice had been close, right next to my ear. Yet the room was empty, unchanged. The same rippling walls, the same thread-bare carpet, the same rusty stains on the ceiling. The rumpled bed where I'd had my tantrum. The almost-empty glass on the dresser.

Ah, the liquor. I must be more drunk than I thought. I turned back to the mirror, searching my face for signs of intoxication, and yelped as something, someone, pinched my nipples.

“Hey! That hurts.” Indignation overwhelmed fear.

“It does, at first. But afterwards, it changes, doesn't it? Afterwards, it feels quite delicious.” I stared at my image, mouth hanging stupidly open, as invisible hands caressed my breasts. Strong hands, gentle hands, hands that seemed to know exactly how to make me shiver with delight. “That's what most people don't understand about pain. It's the gateway to the most exquisite pleasure.”

The voice was a melodious baritone, rich, deep, almost hypnotic. “You fear the pain, but that's foolish. You must surrender to the pain. Let it move through you. Let it wash away your doubts and your inhibitions. Let it open you to ecstasy.”

Firm, unseen lips nibbled at my neck. A warm, wet tongue traced the curve from below my ear to my exposed shoulder, then down to the hollow at my throat. With each touch, extravagant new species of pleasure bloomed in my sex. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, savouring the delicate caresses and the amazing sensations that they triggered in my cunt.

Then suddenly, something sharp pierced the rounded flesh of my shoulder. I screamed, surprise heightening the agony that gripped me, and tore myself away from the grasp of the unseen intruder.

My reflection made me gasp in horror and wonder. Droplets of blood oozed from several wounds on my shoulder, wounds arranged in the distinctive semi-circular shape of a bite.

I felt an arm around my waist, pulling me backwards against the unmistakable bulk of a male body. I struggled against his seemingly supernatural strength.

“Let me go!” There were fingers at my back, unlacing and loosening the bodice, working their way into my top.

“Is that really what you want?” A hand snaked into the opening I had left in the voluminous skirts—a slight modification I had made to the pattern. After all, what was the point of wearing a sexy costume if it made you inaccessible?

Cool fingertips wandered up the inside of my thigh, smearing the damp of my secretions into my bare skin. My clit ached in anticipation. A fresh flow of lubrication made my thighs damper still. “I think that you actually want something else.” He found his way into my folds and began massaging the swollen bud at my centre.

I moaned and arched backward, my body taking over while my mind whirled in confusion and disbelief.

“Who—what —are you?” He slid two fingers deep into my sopping cunt, making me writhe.

“Does it matter?” Now his thumb beat rapidly against my clit, while his fingers stroked my depths. His other hand pumped my breast in the same rhythm. I felt the first shimmers of orgasm, far away like heat lightning on the prairie horizon.

“I am who I am, and I know what you want. What you need.” He captured one swollen nipple and squeezed, waking echoes of his previous assault. I yelped and twisted, trying to get away but succeeding only in impaling myself more completely on the hand in my cunt. “Let yourself go, Rebecca,” he murmured close to my ear. Lost in a fog of arousal and terror, I hardly wondered that he should know my name.

Don’t forget to leave a comment. You just might win!

Murder and Treats - @lyncee #Halloween #EroticRomance #Thriller

By Lyncee Shillard (Guest Blogger)

Hi everyone!

A big shout out of thanks to Lisabet for having me again on her blog. This time I’m all about Halloween… and of course murder…and well doughnuts…and vodka. 
 

My newest book – Murder and Treats – is a novella about all those things!

Blurb

Lila Maxwell is coaxed into attending All Treats, a Halloween speed dating event by her best friend. Instead of the soul mate promised one Halloween ghoul after another appears at her door until Cowboy Bill.

Jax Carlson has spent the last year focusing all of his attention on starting his own business. Hiring Lila Maxell over the Internet as his project manager was the final piece to his prefect plan. Set to open for business in three days, Jax plans on spending a couple of days on his boat relaxing. However, his friend Erik has a different idea – a speed dating Halloween party.

Jax has spent the night plotting the best revenge possible for Erik until Sally opens the door. The woman dressed in the pale lavender Harem costume ignites a fire that Jax thought was impossible without the aid of his formulated dating list.

After a night of mind-blowing sex, Lila sneaks out before they exchange real names believing it was no more than a one-night stand.

Lila's first day is full of surprises, the biggest being Cowboy Bill is actually her new boss, Jax Carlson. She thinks keeping her hormones in check while convincing Jax that love doesn't follow a formula is complication enough until she learns the participants of the All Treats speed dating event are being killed.

My favorite Halloween doughnut trick is…insert vamp teeth into a sugar doughnut. Drizzle red frosting for blood, or have gummy worms crawling out of the mouth, or decorate with gummy boogers.

My favorite Halloween drink is the Wicked Witch… it’s caramel vodka, apple vodka, and whip cream vodka all equal parts mixed with apple cider. Sooo good and so wicked.

And just a peek…

Walking into her bedroom, Lila froze mid-stride. On her bed was a knife coated with blood and small plastic number five. The glass slipped from her hand and fell to the floor, spraying her foot and leg with red wine.

Murder and Treats is available at https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/murder-and-treats

Come and hang out with me... we will talk about doughnuts and vodka...

Blog : https://lynceeshillard.wordpress.com

Twitter https://twitter.com/lyncee

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Romance-with-a-Bang-422236758284798

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3344793.Lyncee_Shillard

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Lyncee-Shillard/e/B007WGBKYK/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1534257851&sr=8-1

The ultimate erotic surrender -- #bdsm #99cents #Halloween #bloodsports

Today is release day for my new dark paranormal tale Underground. This vivid, disturbing and arousing story is perfect for Halloween—not the kiddies’ trick or treat celebration, but the ancient festival of the uncanny and unhallowed on which our modern traditions are loosely based.

You’ll find the blurb and an exclusive excerpt below. Like all my paranormal titles, Underground is only 99 cents throughout October, as part of my Month of Magic. I hope you’ll take a chance and get yourself a copy.

Blurb

The long years before I found Underground and Z seem like some bad dream—an endless series of fetish groups and kink clubs, personal ads and bar hook-ups, as I searched everywhere for someone who could understand and satisfy my particular needs. S&M folk like to believe they're tolerant and accepting. They weren't ready to tolerate me, though.

Z doesn’t need blades or blood to take me where I want to go. His unnatural power alone would be enough. He understands how the ritual excites me, though—the slow glide of metal across my breast or along my thigh, the rush of bright pain, the flare of desire as ruby droplets gather in the knife’s wake.

I never told him about the blades and the blood. He just knew, as he seems to know so much else about me.

Buy Links

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07HYDVL65/

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07HYDVL65/

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/898486

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/underground-lisabet-sarai/1129661349?ean=29401558288

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/underground-95

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42122221-underground

Exclusive Excerpt

I know how it started, this awful, insane need. I can trace it back to my initiation into kink, to my very first Master.

I was twenty-four, impressionable and innocent, at least of anything involving BDSM. Flooded with hormones and full of sexual energy, I was ripe to be plucked.

He told me over dinner, his face grave, that he had powers beyond those of normal mortals. He was descended from an ancient family who had practiced magic since the Middle Ages, in the deep-shadowed forests of Germany. That story sounds ludicrous now—or perhaps not, given my relationship with Z. At the time, I was ready to believe. His charisma, his intuition, his knowledge of my secrets, all supported his claims. Certainly, none of my previous lovers had seen how I needed surrender.

That first night, he did not even bind me. Instead he willed me into immobility so thorough I might as well have been strapped to his bed. He didn’t beat me or draw blood. He simply fucked me, using his cock to take me over. I lay limp and receptive beneath his massive body, watching the emotions flit across his boyish face, feeling the pleasure build without the slightest effort on my part.

It happened quite suddenly. I sensed a shift, like the sudden yielding when a difficult key finally enters a lock. Our minds connected. His fantasies lay bare for me to see.

He was a pirate, bloodthirsty and crude, raping a maid snatched from her village. He’d make her beg for more before he was done.

He was an evil wizard, entangling an unsullied virgin in the sticky threads of his magic. She’d never escape.

He was a demon, fucking his victim to death and beyond. He grinned, displaying pointed teeth that I knew would rip me apart after he’d filled me with his spunk. His cock swelled in my depths, larger and larger, stretching me to the point of tearing. Mad triumph lit his face as he slammed into me, his very own precious corpse.

I came then, seared by his obscene imaginings as well as the scalding fountain of his cum. Waves of ecstasy poured through me. Yet I didn’t move, did not writhe beneath him or clench around his shuddering cock. Somehow his mind had drained all vitality from my body. I lay helpless and still as unutterable bliss swept me away.

****

Snag a copy of Underground today, for a thrilling, chilling All Hallow’s Eve. And while you’re over at the bookstore, why not buy one or two of my other paranormals? They’re all less than a buck! For blurbs, covers and direct buy links, go here.