October News

Love Hurts

Happy Halloween!

 

New and Upcoming Releases 

Welcome to the October - that is, the Halloween - edition of my newsletter. I'll make it quick, so you can get back to working on your costumes and cooking up your caramel apples...!

My only new release since last newsletter is my BDSM free read A Case of You , available now from the newly revamped Totally Bound website. Their stellar art department has come up with new covers for all the free books. I love this one!

Speaking of covers, though, I've received the cover for Rough Weather, which will be out in January. I'm thrilled with it; it really captures the feeling of the story. Read an excerpt here and you'll see what I mean.

I've also got the cover for my next release, Her Secret Ingredient. This lively, sexy romp will be out next month as part of Totally Bound's new What's Her Secret? line.

When the Tastes of France food channel offers Mei Lee “Emily” Wong a series of guest spots, she jumps at the opportunity to take her culinary career to a whole new level. Ultimately, she wants a show of her own, but first she has to prove herself to Michelin-starred network founder and effective dictator, Etienne Duvalier. A legend in the world of classic French cuisine as well as a domineering perfectionist, Etienne is sceptical about the culinary abilities of a woman from Hong Kong. To make things more difficult, the master chef is also irresistibly gorgeous.

Emily tries to solve both problems by spiking her luscious profiteroles with an ancient Oriental aphrodisiac. Unfortunately, Harry Sanborne, the low-key, bespectacled producer for Emily's show, samples the delicacies she intends for Etienne's consumption. His powerful reaction to her secret ingredient comes as a pleasant surprise to them both. Harry turns out to be far more impressive in bed than on the set. However, he can't do nearly as much to advance her ambitions as Etienne. Emily tries once more to tempt the exacting M. Duvalier with her special cooking as well as her feminine charms. The outrageous results threaten to end her TV career forever - until Harry steps in to save her reputation and claim her heart.

I had so much fun writing this tale that I'm planning a follow-up novel, which will take Emily, Harry and Etienne to France for further adventures. Meanwhile, you can read an excerpt from the story here. Of course, I'll be doing some giveaways to celebrate the release. Stay tuned for more information!

Oh, I nearly forgot! If you're an old-fashioned type like me, a person who still likes to read physical books, you might like to snag a copy of Rajasthani Moon in paperback. It will be available next Friday, the 25th of October.

Other News

For free reading this month, I've added the next chapter of my CatToy shifter serial. To read the book from the beginning, go to the free reading index page and scroll down to the "paranormal" category.
I've also added a brand new poem. In the last few months, I've been inspired by Ashley Lister's writing exercises at the Erotica Readers & Writers Association blog to try out some new poetic forms. This month's poem, Galatea, is my first attempt at the rather complicated form known as a vilanelle.

Tomorrow I'll be guest blogging at H.C. Brown's and on Friday, at Normandie Alleman's. The following week, on Halloween, I've got a guest appearance at H.K. Carlton's blog. I'll be giving away a bookstore gift certificate in conjunction with these appearances. For details, keep an eye on my blog, or sign up to be on my private mailing list.

Speaking of my mailing list, I'll be sending out information about this month's exclusive drawing next Friday. Only people on my list are eligible to enter!

If you're not on my email list but would like to be, just send an email to contest [at] lisabetsarai [dot] com with the subject line "Add Me", from the email you want added
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Contests!

Congratulations to Juliana, who won my "BDSM" contest. She started her email with the sentence "I LOVE BDSM Stories!". That's not why I picked her, though - honest! Random.org selected her name, not me! Thanks to everyone who entered.

I've decided that people are getting bored with my monthly Newsletter contests. For one thing, they go on too long. You enter and then have to wait for a month - sometimes two! - to discover whether you're the winner. Instead, I'll do contests here on my blog, at least twice a month. I'll announce them, of course. Keep your eyes and ears open.

Lisabet's Pick of the Month

My pick of the month for October is Nobilis Erotica, the longest running erotica podcast on the Web. Nobilis offers dozens of free audio tales, including a couple by me. Many, but certainly not all, are science fiction or speculative fiction. The site has Android or iPhone podcast apps for download too! Intelligent, well-written, professionally recorded audio-erotica, for free... What's not to love?

The Queer Female Gaze: The Second Mango and Breasts

By Shira Glassman (Guest Blogger)

Boobs!

They're on a lot of people's minds. If I asked you to picture someone who's into women's breasts, you might picture a straight boy in his early teens, just discovering that women's bodies can be fun to look at, or maybe what sprang into your mind is an adult man who can't seem to resist talking to women's chests instead of respectfully looking at their faces.

You wouldn't think of a young woman, right?

The heroine of my newly released queer feminist fantasy novel, The Second Mango, is Queen Shulamit, a twenty-year-old with plenty of reasons to feel different and isolated. Since women of royalty in fairy tales are often imprisoned in a tower needing to be rescued, one might say her tower is her isolation--mourning her recently deceased father, misunderstood and disbelieved about her multiple food allergies, and alienated from her heterosexual peers as the only lesbian she knows. One of the ways she's aware she's inconveniently different from other women is her fascination with breasts.

I was eight when I can first remember noticing that I liked looking at boobs. I didn't know what that meant, because, like many queer kids in the 1980's, my exposure to All Things LGBTQ+ was extremely limited and biased. I'm fairly sure I'd never encountered the idea of bisexuality, because as a kid my image of queer people were those who only liked their own sex 1. to the exclusion of all hetero romance and 2. to their peril and ruin. I knew not to blame "them" (us) for it, but I also saw "them" (us) as utterly doomed and wasn't it sad. Not because we were going to hell -- that's not a part of my faith tradition -- but because we would be Shunned. But anyway, since I'd never heard that you could like men and women, and since I'd had crushes on older male celebrities since I was six years old, it never occurred to me that my breast fixation meant that I liked women, too.

I remember calling them "blossoms" when I had to talk about them for whatever reason. I remember being fascinated if a woman was topless on television, and I remember sneaking looks at Playboy when I saw it in a gas station once. My stepmother, in an attempt to counteract my mother's second-wave feminism, bought me a Barbie doll -- I promptly painted the doll's breasts sparkly purple with nail polish. Why? I wanted to do something with them, but I didn't know what there was to do.

I was never so much fixated on growing my own set, and from what I've heard from friends as an adult, I haven't changed my mind. Between the backaches and the unwanted attention, they sound more like trouble than anything else. The only reason I've ever wished for more than the flat little afterthoughts on my chest is because it would be a lot easier to shop if I fit into "women's clothes" (ha. Isn't that all of us, for one reason or another?)

Bodily autonomy means that our bodies belong to us and us alone, and we should respect other people's bodies as not being our business unless they want it to be our business. Lesbian erasure and invisibility had unintentionally taught me that those who looked at boobs sexually were often predatory men, and never young women. Imagine how that made me feel, especially at the age when everyone feels like they're the only one. Even as an adult, learning to reconcile my strong belief in bodily autonomy with my attraction to the same body parts that many invasive men have preyed on was confusing and difficult.

Shulamit, in my book, faces these same dilemmas. She's eager to express her appreciation of a woman's curves, but she's also afraid that admitting this attraction will somehow rob her of the femininity with which she so strongly identifies. In a world, much like our own, where those gazing upon women's bodies with appreciation are assumed to be male, can we blame her?

She also strives to find balance between her strong fixation and her equally strong ethical compunction towards consent and bodily autonomy. While dusting off a group of imprisoned women who've been turned to stone, she realizes she's attracted to the woman she's cleaning and asks Rivka to finish the job.

Shulamit’s hands were slower and gentler on this one than on the others, and she couldn’t help wondering what the woman was like. Had she come here out of deep religious conviction and a desire to serve her fellow humans? Or was she living within these walls in order to hide from the outside world? Did she like to read, and if so, did she prefer stories or lessons? With a rush of heat to her cheeks, Shulamit realized she couldn’t bring herself to polish the woman’s entire body—not her bosom. She knew she would enjoy it and couldn’t live with the guilt of reveling in such a moment at someone else’s expense. Especially if the woman was awake inside the stone. “Riv?”

“Your Majesty?”

“We’re switching.”

We live in a society that declares that breasts are so inherently sexual that a parent using them for their biologically intended purpose, to feed a child, is often asked to cover up because some people consider it "obscene". Breast cancer activism is often reduced to "save the ta-ta's". I do want to live in a world where someone's breasts aren't considered automatically sexual when they haven't been assigned that function by their owner. But at the same time, lesbian and other queer woman-on-woman sexuality is silenced and suppressed and ignored enough, and I also want the next generation of little me's and little Shulamits to know that their attraction to breasts, or a woman's tush, or whichever part of women they like best, doesn't make them a freak or "the only one" at all. As long as we do so respectfully and without making it a problem for our partners or whoever we're admiring, our attractions should be acknowledged as real and valid at least as much as heterosexual men's are.

The Second Mango tells the story of a young woman's search for love, family and her own strength with the assistance of her dragon-riding bodyguard. If you've ever wished for a fairy tale to end with a happily ever after for two queer women, or if you like sexy older men (there is a strong hetero romance subplot as well!) or just like to read very woman-centered fantasy, check it out. It's available from Prizm Books in four eBook formats: ePub, mobi, html, and pdf. It is for sale on Amazon in print and for Kindle, and also available in print from Wild Iris Books, Florida's only feminist bookstore. The sequel, Climbing the Date Palm, is scheduled for publication next July.

Leave a comment with your email, and you'll be entered to win a copy of The Second Mango!

News Flash! Monday 21 October only! Get 10% off all books at Prizm Books (my publisher) and their parent, Torquere Press. Just use discount code fall2013.

http://www.prizmbooks.com
http://www.torquerepress.com

Buy The Second Mango at Prizm!

Buy The Second Mango at Amazon

Find Shira Glassman on her WordPress blog:

http://shiraglassman.wordpress.com

Sunday Snog #96: A New Snog from Cat Toy

Greetings, readers! Today's snog is a bit special. It's part of the Blisse Kiss After Dark blog hop event, a mini-fright-fest of Halloween-themed kissing fun.

I just uploading my October newsletter to my website. For my traditional free reading feature, I've written a sensational new chapter in my Cat Toy shifter serial. I realized that a black were-cat was absolutely perfect for a Halloween celebration.

Of course I can't do a blog hop without a prize. Leave a comment with your email below and I'll enter you in a drawing for a copy of my Halloween BDSM tale, Rendezvous.

After you've savored my kiss, hop on over to Victoria's Blisse Kiss page for links to lots more sexy snogs!

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I found my apartment door locked. Had Tom not returned yet? The studio was dark, all the lights out and the blinds drawn as I'd left them. “Tom?” My voice was hoarse with fear. She found him. She's caught him.

A man-shaped shadow rose from the chair near the window. “Shaina! Thank the gods you're safe!” In an instant, I was wrapped in his strong arms, with his face buried in my hair. Peace and comfort flooded in, washing away my worry and uncertainty. This was where I belonged.

Unerring even in the darkness, his lips found mine. I opened automatically, drinking in his sweet, wild flavor. He smelled of smoke and earth, crisp nights and growing things. The tension that had sustained me through my encounter with the sorceress vanished, so that for a moment I felt limp and weak. Taking advantage of my lassitude, he drew me closer, the rigid bulk in his trousers rooting in the gap between my thighs and making me gasp. As he boldly probed my mouth, his hands roamed over my curves to my ass and pulled me tighter still.

Fierce need swept through me like a forest fire. I threaded my fingers into his wiry curls and took over the kiss, sucking his tongue into my mouth, gnawing on his lips, devouring him. With a growl, he sank his fingernails into my butt – I could feel the bite even through my jeans - and ground his erection against me. The friction kindled sparks in my swollen clit. They shot through me, lighting up my body like fireworks.

His muscles shifted like bands of steel under his shirt, under my hands. My fingers itched to feel his nakedness. At the same time, I was unwilling to release my hold on him so that we could get undressed. Desperate with desire, clutching and writhing, we rocked against one another like boats caught in a storm.

“Now,” he groaned into my mouth. “I want you now!” We managed to separate long enough to tear off our clothes. Tom seized me around the waist and dragged me to the floor. He flipped me onto my stomach as though I weighed nothing, then grabbed my hips to haul me up to my hands and knees. His nails dug stinging crescents into my bare ass and his coarse pubic hair scratched the back of my thighs.

“Tom...?” I peered over my shoulder at his looming figure. His roughness both thrilled and scared me. He was so much stronger than I was. I could never fight him off.

But why was I thinking about fighting? I wanted everything he had to give me. 

*****

Want to read the rest of the story? Click here to read starting at the beginning, or here for just the new chapter. 

 

 

Ladies and Gentleman, We Have a Cover...

I just received my cover for my upcoming paranormal release Rough Weather. I absolutely love it! I've had some wonderful covers over the course of my publishing career (as well as the requisite few awful ones), but I think this may be my favorite. What's your opinion?

Unfortunately the book won't be available until late January (which tells you how together Totally Bound is!) but just to whet your appetite, here's the blurb and an excerpt.

Rough Weather by Lisabet Sarai
Coming January 31, 2014 from Totally Bound!

Destiny hides in the tempest’s heart

Ondine has always felt at home in the sea. Orphaned at birth and raised by her grandmother on the island of Martha’s Vineyard, she has never really questioned her extraordinary affinity for the watery world. She concentrates on her work as a marine biologist, spends her weekends relaxing among the waves, and worries about human threats to her beloved ocean environment. Fears of a deadly pregnancy like her mother’s make her cautious about sex.

When she encounters an attractive but arrogant engineer on her private beach, surveying the site for a prospective off-shore wind farm, anger is her first reaction. A casual touch, however, transforms that emotion to incomprehensible, irresistible, terrifying lust.

Ebony-skinned Marut has his own talents – aside from his uncanny ability to swamp Ondine with desire. He can control the winds and summon storms. He informs Ondine that they share a supernatural heritage and claims she is his destined mate. She responds with scepticism and tries to resist the charismatic Haitian, but ultimately her scientist’s training won’t permit her to deny the evidence of her senses – and her heart. As a brutal northeaster batters the island and Marut’s life hangs in the balance, Ondine learns that true power lies in surrender to her elemental nature.

Excerpt (rated X)

She had been swimming in the dream, far from land, slicing through the sea with the speed of a shark, the grace of a dolphin – acutely aware of the burgeoning life around her, glorying in her freedom. The sun-lit space below the surface had glowed like the interior of an emerald, lit by the sun above. Arousal hummed through her, well-being shading into something like need, but not urgent, not yet – merely a side effect of her finely-tuned perception. She would let the ache build, gathering force and volume, until the flood of release was as inevitable as the tide. 

 

Shadows had gathered overhead. The pellucid depths turned grey. Choppy swells churned above. Then with terrifying suddenness she’d been hooked – arrested in her liquid trajectory, dragged up into the air, sputtering and thrashing like the fish she sometimes resembled.

She had found herself suspended in lightning-shot blackness, hung by some pivot between her shoulder blades. Fierce winds swung her back and forth, whipping her hair into her face. Anger and terror warred in her chest.

“Release me!” she’d cried. The gale had ripped the words from her and flung them into the skies. “Let me go, whoever you ...”

Firm lips had sealed hers before she could finish. Invisible in the swirling dark, someone took possession of her mouth, forcing her lips apart with an unseen tongue and plunging within. She’d tasted winter frost and summer fruit, salt and iron, a hint of smoke. Hands wandered over her bare flesh, cool and knowing. A rough twist to an aching nipple. The scrape of a fingernail down her spine. A plump thumb, prodding her quivering clit. Then a rigid bulk, rooting in the slick cleft between her thighs.

She’d been soaked, despite her fear and indignation. She liquefied further as her shadow-clad assailant slid into her depths. Her simmering lust leapt to a boil. “Please, no...”, she’d moaned into his demanding mouth, even as she clenched around the exquisite hardness invading her. A storm of sensation raged inside her as he arched up and inward, dragging the taut length of his cock across her clitoris. Electric bliss flashed from her core to her extremities.

He’d pulled her to his chest, mashing her breasts against smooth planes of skin and muscle. The arms restraining her were iron bands, inescapable despite her squirming. Wild winds swirled around them in a tightening spiral. She fought the pleasure, unwilling to be taken by a stranger, to have her freedom stripped from her so completely, but he was inexorable, driving closer to her crisis with each powerful thrust.

“Surrender to me.” His voice pierced her as surely as his cock and yet it was soft, melodious, almost gentle, coaxing her to relinquish control – not a command but an invitation. “You will never be complete until you surrender.”

He’d swelled within her, on the edge of his own crisis. The world shimmered around her as she continued to resist. “Don’t fight me, lady. You’re only hurting yourself.”

The blackness cracked open. For an instant she forgot to struggle. Ecstasy seized her, welling up and spilling over. For long moments she’d hung in space, unable to breathe, pinned in his arms and racked by pleasure.

Then she’d been falling from a great height, the wind still wailing in her ears, her cunt still convulsing – around emptiness.

Welcome to my world (I mean, the one I created)

By Jennifer Wright (Guest Blogger)

As always, I’d like to start off with a big ‘Thank You’ to Lisabet for having me as a guest today.

Recently, I reached out and asked a simple question – what do you want to know? I want to take the opportunity to answer people’s questions about me or my books. And I will say I got some pretty awesome questions from the lovely Lisabet herself. So, I selected a few to answer. :)

Is it all one universe, or is each book separate?

For anyone that hasn’t read the series, you’re about to get a spoiler with this question and may want to move on to the next one! It is all one universe. In my ‘world’, Pavarus is actually where it all began. The humans, vampires, and dragons found portals that allowed them to travel to different realms within the same world – one of those realms being Earth. From there, it was the humans that left Pavarus to claim Earth as their own. Over time, the knowledge of Pavarus was lost amongst the humans on Earth, that is why Wes has no idea what’s going on (in the first book) when he falls through a portal and into Pavarus.

In what ways is your world different from ours?

The Earth ‘side’ is just the same as ours is now, but Pavarus is more or less stuck in the lifestyle of  Medieval times – castles, swords, lords, peasants, their clothes, etc. Keddrick, sire of the vampires, chose to not follow in Earth’s footsteps and decided that his world should remain simpler than Earth. Though, simpler doesn’t always mean easier, if that makes any sense.

Would you ever want to live there?

This one’s easy. Yes, but only if I’ve got a hunky vampire warrior as a mate. ;)

Now, I hope you all enjoy a teasing excerpt from my upcoming release, Airos: Finding Home Series book 3. Currently, Airos is up for pre-order at Total-E-Bound at a 15% discount! But come this Friday, October 18^th, you can buy Airos at a 10% discount and read it right away. So, don’t miss out on the savings!

Book blurb:

Zane has everything in his life under control and in order, but can he keep it that way when a young dragon is thrown into his life?

Zane was meant to be a warrior—end of story. Though he may not have had the most pleasant life living at the coven, he still loved being there. But the steadiness of his world came to a halt all within one day’s events. A man he never saw coming has pushed the boundaries of what little normalcy he has, and learning of a secret love is just confusing him even more. Zane has never felt more torn on what he should be feeling…and for whom. Though, if he assumed having two men plaguing his every waking thought was hard enough, learning of the danger his mother is in nearly has his head spinning off into another dimension.

The leader of the Dráguns is threatening to take everything away from him, his best friend is slipping further and further away from him, and a little dragon is managing to get under his skin in more ways than one. Sorting out what he has to do, what he wants, and what’s right for him will be the biggest challenge he’s ever been faced with. Will he follow his heart or will he take the easy path…or is the easy path the right path to begin with?

Excerpt:

Bo waited for Wesley to knock on the bathroom door but nearly shot up out of the water when Zane came bursting in.

“Dear gods, Zane, you nearly scared me half to death.” He let out a deep breath and placed his hand over his chest, his heart thundering beneath his touch. “So, how did everything go with…?” He trailed off as Zane stormed over to him, the heat in his eyes making Bo sink down into the water a little.

“What are you doing?”

Bo felt so small as the vampire towered over him, but he wasn’t about to show the thin line of fear the man always seemed to make him feel. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m bathing.”

Stepping closer, his hands fisted at his sides, Zane growled out, “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

Bo glanced away. I can do this. I can be strong.

“Bo!”

Turning back, Bo gave Zane a look of innocence. “What?”

Zane’s lips briefly thinned out in a tight line. “Why are you still here?”

“You heard Augustus, he didn’t think it was a good idea to travel,” he replied, swishing the water around him as if nothing was wrong—as if he didn’t notice the vampire’s rising annoyance.

Suddenly Zane was at his side, kneeling on the floor next to the tub. “That’s bullshit! You risked your life earlier by climbing down the side of a castle—all so you could get away from here. Then you had every opportunity to go home earlier, but you didn’t. Why?”

Bo glanced away again. This wasn’t going at all the way he’d imagined. Yes, he had hoped to talk to Zane privately, but he’d never thought it’d be like this. Steeling his shoulders, he said, “Yes, I tried to escape, but that was when I had thought that I was still a prisoner. Keddrick made it clear that I am now a guest, so I felt it was best to take Augustus’ advice—for my own well-being.”

Zane’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you. I saw the way you looked at me. Why did you look at me like that? What were you thinking?”

Gods, this is not at all how I imagined it going. “Can you please hand me a towel?”

A muscle flexed alongside the vampire’s jaw and he made no movement to do as Bo had asked.

Huffing, Bo got up and stepped out of the tub then retrieved a towel from a nearby shelf. He ignored the small growl that echoed in the room. All he had wanted was a chance to get to know Zane, to find out what this bond between them meant. He knew Zane had said he didn’t want Bo here, but he hadn’t expected the vampire to act this way at his staying for just one more evening.

“Damn it, Bo, answer me! Why are you still here?”

Bo spun around to face him. “Why do you care!” he shouted. “What does it matter if I’m here another night?”

“Because you confuse me!” Zane hollered back.

The vampire almost seemed surprised by what he’d said, but the look was gone too quickly for Bo to be sure.

Zane rubbed his hands over his face then let out a frustrated sigh. “My life was balanced before, and since you’ve been here you’ve done nothing but trip me up.” He glared down at Bo. “I’m doing things that I never would have done before. I’m saying things that I would have never said. And I can’t seem to stop it. It’s all because of you.”

A fire ignite inside Bo and he glared right back at him. “Well, I’m sorry that I messed with your precious structure here.” He stepped forward and Zane took a step back, his eyes beginning to widen the closer Bo got to him. “Believe me, that was not my intention at all.” Bo kept advancing on Zane, and Zane kept stepping back until he bumped into the counter. “But don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair first thing tomorrow evening, because trust me when I say that I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want me to be!”

He was now mere inches from Zane—practically standing on his tip-toes so he could at least get somewhat face to face with him. Anger raced through his veins as he waited, preparing himself for Zane to yell back at him.

Bo gasped when Zane’s hand was suddenly around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, closing what little distance was between them. He stood there frozen in place as Zane kissed him, completely shocked by the vampire’s actions.

The kiss was bruising and over within moments. At first Bo stared up at Zane in disbelief and confusion, but that quickly melted away at the sight of the passion in the vampire’s eyes.

“Dear gods, what you do to me,” Zane growled, then kissed him again.

About me

I was born in Arizona, but have spent the better part of my life in Wisconsin.  While I enjoy living close to my family, my heart longs to live in the South – or anywhere where the winters are warmer, and I hope to someday get there.  I love writing, and try to dedicate as much of my free time to it (ha! what free time?).  If I’m not typing away on my laptop, you’ll find me with my nose buried in a book, or with my loving boyfriend debating on what movie to watch and the never ending back and forth decision of what we should have for dinner.  I love spending time with my family and boyfriend, cuddling with my two cats, and laughing as much as possible (cuz I like to think I'm funny :-D).

Some little tidbits about me are – I love horses and cats, I have a really big sweet-tooth, and I've been told I like to talk with my hands (insert hand gestures here).

Where you can buy my books –

Total-E-Bound: http://www.total-e-bound.com/authordetail.asp?A_ID=253

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Jennifer-Wright/e/B00A2I2F80/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1

ARe: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=Jennifer+Wright

Where you can find me –

Blog: http://authorjenwright.wordpress.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenniferWright

Twitter: https://twitter.com/_JenWright

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/JenniferWright

Welcome to Totally Bound!

My primary erotic romance publisher Total-E-Bound has just completed a super makeover! TEB is now Totally Bound - the classiest, sexiest publisher of erotic romance on the web!

Check out their completely redesigned website by clicking here!

Then leave me a comment telling me what you think. I'll pick one person who comments and give you a copy of a great ebook from my Totally Bound backlist.

Sneak Peek: Mean Girls

[Greetings! I've got a sexy sneak peek for you today, from Lucy Felthouse' Rubenesque tale, Mean Girls. Enjoy!  ~ Lisabet]

Mean Girls by Lucy Felthouse

Adele Blackthorne is a big girl, a curvy chick. She knows it, and she’s been picked on all her life because of it. But she’s gotten to the stage where she doesn’t care. She may be Rubenesque, but she’s healthy, too. Much healthier than the mean girls at the leisure center that point and stare and say spiteful things about her. Adele rises above it all, and simply enjoys her secretive glances at the center’s hunky lifeguard, Oliver.

As the bullying of Adele becomes worse, Oliver finds it increasingly difficult not to intervene. He doesn’t want to get into trouble with work, but equally he can’t stand to see Adele treated in such a horrible way. Especially since he doesn’t agree that she’s fat and unattractive. He thinks she’s a seriously sexy woman, and would like to get to know her better. Much better.

Buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/mean-girls/

Excerpt

As usual, Adele Blackthorne felt the weight of gazes on her as she walked from the changing room to the steps to get into the swimming pool. She was used to it by now, and had learned not to react, to just carry on as though she hadn’t noticed people staring and not-so-subtly pointing at her.

With a polite nod to Oliver, the lifeguard, as she passed him, Adele was grateful for his much more favorable reaction. If he thought she resembled a beached whale, he hid it much better than everyone else did. The warmth in his eyes as he nodded back even looked genuine. But she had no illusions, he probably slagged her off the moment he got into the staffroom, or home, talking about the fat woman who went swimming three times a week without fail. But for now, she’d pretend he didn’t. Pretend he thought she was sexy, and wanted to get lost in her abundant curves. God knows she’d like him to.

It was true, she was a big girl and she was most definitely aware of it. Ever since she’d gotten to the age where her excess weight could no longer be called puppy fat, she’d tried to do something about it. Every diet under the sun, ridiculous amounts of exercise… nothing worked. Adele had grown so depressed in her teens that she’d become bulimic. Naturally, she’d lost some weight that way, but she’d also made herself so ill that she’d had to be hospitalized. It had terrified the life out of her, and ever since, she’d resolved that she’d much rather be healthy than skinny.

Which was why she visited her local leisure center three times a week. She used the gym and sauna, and went swimming. And every single time she went, she’d catch someone gawping at her. But because of the years she’d spent—especially at school—being called all the names under the sun, she’d developed an incredibly thick skin. She was happy and healthy—so healthy in fact that she could probably beat all of those skinny bitches at a swimming race. Of course she never offered, never called anyone out on their rudeness and ignorance, but it made her feel better to know that she was fitter and much more polite than them.

Slipping into the fast lane, she settled her goggles carefully into position—she hated getting water in her eyes—then lifted her legs to rest the bottoms of her feet against the end of the pool. Looking at the clock on the wall that counted seconds, she waited until the hand reached the top, then pushed off from the side and launched herself into the lane. It was quiet, so she had this section of the pool to herself. Her arms cut through the water, her legs flapped wildly and she did ten laps without losing any speed. Emerging from the water, she checked the clock again and was pleased to note she’d beaten her previous time.

She was just about to start another ten laps, when she heard voices from the other side of the pool. Voices that clearly forgot how well they carried on water. It was as though they were right next to her.

“God, I’m surprised all the water doesn’t jump out of the pool when she gets in. And the way she swims—she’ll cause a tidal wave one of these days.”

The spiteful words were followed by a trio of sniggers, and Adele gritted her teeth. Part of her wished that she could create a bloody tidal wave, so it would sweep those bitches under water and drown them. The other part of her tsked at the thought. Ideas like that made her just as bad as them, just as unpleasant, just as cowardly.

Because they were cowardly—the way they spoke about her behind her back proved that. If they ever passed her somewhere in the leisure center or its car park, they never said anything, not one word. They’d just scurry away as fast as they could, then titter when they thought she was out of earshot. She hoped that just one time, someone would say something to her face, so she could retaliate, speak up for herself. There was no way she’d start anything—she didn’t want to add confrontational to the list of faults that the mean girls had obviously compiled about her.

Sucking in a deep breath, Adele launched into another ten laps, allowing the chilly water and the exertion of powering through it to burn away her irritation. Because that’s all it was—irritation. She wasn’t angry. Anger was too powerful an emotion, and one that was totally wasted on those ignorant women. She almost felt sorry for them, actually. If they had nothing better to do than to stare at her and slag her off all the time, then they clearly had very dull lives.

The thought cheered her considerably and when she completed her twentieth lap, she lay her forearms on the edge of the pool and hoiked herself up. Her back was pressed against the side, and from here she had a perfect view of the rest of the pool. Tugging her goggles down so they hung around her neck, she had a damn good look at everyone else. The small children and their guardians in the kids’ pool right at the other end of the enormous hall, the old people who swum so slowly as they chatted that she was surprised they stayed afloat, the relentless movement of the man in the medium-speed lane and, of course, the mean girls who were in the same sort of position she was, but at the side of the pool rather than the end. The side which faced the lifeguard station.

Adele narrowed her eyes and watched them—the two waif-like blondes and a brunette—as they chatted and giggled, and it seemed for a change, not about her. They’d clearly changed the subject since their previous spouting of vitriol. Their focus was very firmly on Oliver as he sat on his lofty perch, surveying the pools before him, ready to jump in should anyone get into trouble. She often toyed with the idea of faking a problem, just to get him into the pool and his strong arms around her. However, she knew that although he’d undoubtedly do his duty and help her, he’d never believe such a strong swimmer would need his assistance. 

Then he’d lose all respect for her, and probably stop hiding his disdain for her so effectively. And the polite nods and smiles she got from him were the only thing—aside from the center’s top-notch facilities—that made the place bearable. She was sure that if the three witches—a nickname she’d secretly come up with for the women—had their way, there would be a sign on the main doors to the building saying ‘No Fat People Allowed.’

About Lucy

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012, 2013 and 2014 and Best Women's Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9