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Lisabet Sarai Shares The Ingredients of Bliss

I’m very happy to welcome back one of my very favourite guest bloggers and one awesome story-teller, the lovely Lisabet Sarai! I honoured to launch the blog tour for her exciting new novel, The Ingredients of Bliss. There’s fun, there’s a sizzling excerpt, there’s a totally amazing giveaway and of course, links so you can get your own must-have copy of The Ingredients of Blisse!  

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Details for how you can enter the fabulous giveaway are right after the x-rated excerpt

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Lisabet Sarai Bliss tour cover image 2The Ingredients of Bliss: From Short Story to Novel

The characters in The Ingredients of Bliss made their first appearance in my short story Her Secret Ingredient. At the time, I had no thoughts of following that story with a novel-length sequel. Totally Bound had contacted me and asked if I’d like to contribute to their new What’s Her Secret imprint. The concept sounded intriguing – a series where each heroine keeps something hidden from the other characters, until she’s forced to reveal it.

As I pondered the possibilities, the story started to take shape in my mind. Mei Lee “Emily” Wong is a French-trained chef from Hong Kong who is invited to America to appear on a cooking show with the famous Gallic foodie, Etienne Duvalier. A culinary traditionalist, Etienne scorns Emily’s more creative approach to cooking. To win him to her side, she spikes a test dish with an ancient Chinese aphrodisiac. However, the nerdy producer Harry Sanborne samples the adulterated profiteroles before she has a chance to offer them to Etienne, and reacts with delightful passion. Though she’s drawn to Harry, the ambitious Chinese gal resolves to try again, with disastrous results. When Etienne consumes the aphrodisiac, she finds him on his knees, begging to be sexually dominated – on national television! Harry saves the day and sweeps Emily the rest of the way off her feet. In the final chapter of the book (exclusive to the VIP edition available directly from Totally Bound), Harry reveals his interest in BDSM and Emily discovers, much to her surprise, that she has a strong submissive streak – at least when Harry is topping her.

I was pretty happy with Her Secret Ingredient. It’s light and funny and sexy. However, I thought I was done with Emily, Harry and Etienne. Then the publisher asked if I could write a follow-up novel.

I was floored at first. I mean, I didn’t know these characters all that well. How deeply can you explore someone in 15K? Still, I like to make people happy, especially my publishers, so I put on my thinking cap. My first breakthrough was the notion of setting the novel in France. In 2013 I spent two weeks touring that fabulous country, so I thought maybe Emily, Harry and Etienne might follow in my footsteps.

With two males and one female, a ménage seemed inevitable. However, Harry is a Dom and Etienne has masochistic tendencies. How was I going to work that? And whom does Emily really want? The suave, seductive Frenchman, or the virile, sexually-creative American? Or both? And (aside from love scenes and the travel log), what was I going to do with the requisite 60,000 words?

The answers came to me gradually. I came to know my characters more intimately. I realized that Emily was as confused and uncertain about the situation with her two lovers as I was. So I let her work it out, giving the plot a radical twist that brought her true feelings into stronger relief.

And now? I think could write another novel about Emily, Harry and Etienne. Will I? That all depends on the reception I get to The Ingredients of Bliss!

 

Blurb for The Ingredients of Bliss:

One sexy French chef. One kinky American TV producer. One ambitious Chinese gal who thinks she wants them both. The ingredients of bliss? Or a recipe for disaster?

Accomplished cook Mei Lee “Emily” Wong knows exactly what she wants—her own show on the Tastes of France food channel. But life is full of complications. First, her deceptively nerdy producer, Harry Sanborne, initiates Emily into the delights of submission. Then her boss, legendary chef Etienne Duvalier, begs her to dominate him. Emily just can’t resist—especially when Harry orders her to explore her inner mistress. Suave and sexy Etienne will do whatever she asks—in the bedroom if not in the kitchen. And Harry, her lovingly diabolical Dom, adores pushing Emily’s limits.

When the network sends the trio to France to shoot a series of cooking shows on location, Emily knows her career is on the upswing. Her plans fall apart in Marseille as a Hong Kong drug syndicate kidnaps both Etienne and Harry. The Iron Hammer Triad mistakes Etienne for notorious gangster Jean Le Requin, who has stolen their drug shipment, worth millions. Emily realizes she must find the real Le Requin, retrieve the purloined dope, and bargain it for Harry’s and Etienne’s lives. The secret she’s been keeping from Harry might prove useful. Still, what chance does one woman whose knife skills are limited to chopping vegetables, have against the ruthless cruelty of two criminal organizations?


Lisabet Sarai Bliss tourX-Rated Excerpt: The Ingredients of Bliss by Lisabet Sarai

“What’s eating you, Em?”

Harry looked up from one of his favorite positions—crouched between my spread legs—and searched my face. The usual mischief gleamed in his cinnamon-brown eyes—a bit unfocused without his glasses—but his lush mouth showed no trace of a grin.

“Shouldn’t that be who, rather than what?” My laugh sounded forced, even to my own ears. It turned to a squeal as he swept his tongue along the length of my cleft, ending with a neat flick to my clit.

“I’m serious. Something’s bothering you.”

Sometimes his intuition scared me. “It’s nothing, really.” How did this guy know me so well, after a mere three months?

“Tell me!”

“Ow!” He’d pinched the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh.

“Do I have to beat a confession out of you—again?”

His casual reference was enough to send my mind spinning back to that wild night when he’d first revealed his kinky streak. Tied to the iron railing at the look-out atop Twin Peaks, my panties around my ankles and my dress bunched up around my waist, I’d received my first searing lesson in submission.

Unruly hair fell into his eyes, making him look younger, and rougher, too—a bit like Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire. I wanted to brush those black locks off his brow, to touch him, to soothe and reassure him—to feel his lovely muscles shift under the tanned skin of his broad shoulders. Bound hand and foot to the bed frame, all I could do was writhe and yelp as he burrowed his face in my pussy, while raking my thighs with his fingernails.

Pain and pleasure. Pleasure and pain. Wasn’t there a time when I could tell the difference?

Whatever he was doing, I liked it. I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t.

 

Blog Tour Prizes

First prize: $30 gift certificate to Sur La Table (http://www.surlatable.com)

Second prize: $20 gift certificate to Whole Foods Market (http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com)
Third prize: Three-pack of ebooks from my back list, including a copy of Her Secret Ingredient, the prequel to The Ingredients of Bliss.

I’ll also be giving a PDF copy of my own original cookbook, Recipes from an International Kitchen, to everyone who leaves a comment. AND I have a bonus $10 Totally Bound gift certificate for the tour host who gets the most reader comments.

To enter, simply leave a comment that includes your email address. You can enter once for each spot in the tour. For the full tour schedule, go to:

http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2014/08/ingredients-of-bliss-blog-tour-starts.html

 


Lisabet Sarai Bliss tour 1The Ingredients of Bliss
By Lisabet Sarai

Contemporary BDSM ménage

Totally Bound, 2014

Get your copy today!

The special VIP edition of The Ingredients of Bliss is now available from Totally Bound. This version contains a sizzling bonus chapter not available from other retailers. Totally Bound has the most advanced book selling site of any independent publisher on the web, with new One-Click ordering and direct delivery to all e-reader platforms. 

 

About Lisabet:

I started both writing and cooking at an early age, and I’ve continued to indulge both passions as I’ve matured. Usually I’m an improvisational cook; I’m not all that fond of following recipes, and when I do, I almost always introduce my own variations. My philosophy tends to be the more spice, the better.

You could say the same about my writing. Since the release of my debut novel Raw Silk in 1999, I’ve published lots of erotica and erotic romance in almost every sub-genre– more than fifty single author titles, plus dozens of short stories in various erotic anthologies, including the Lambda winner Where the Girls Are and the IPPIE Best Erotic Book of 2011, Carnal Machines. My gay scifi erotic romance Quarantine won a Rainbow Awards 2012 Honorable Mention.

I have more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by my chosen genre. Widely traveled but still with a long bucket list of places to go, I currently live in Southeast Asia with my indulgent husband and two exceptional felines, where I pursue an alternative career that is completely unrelated to my creative writing.

 

Find Lisabet here:

Website: http://www.lisabetsarai.com

Blog: http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com

Goodreads page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai

Amazon page: https://www.amazon.com/author/lisabetsarai

 

 

 

Finding Inspiration: An Erotica Author’s Tale

By M. K. Elliott

I read a great quote from someone on facebook the other day. I can’t remember who it was, so sorry if it was you and I haven’t named you! This particular quote was something along the lines of, ‘Just because I write about it, doesn’t mean I’ve done it … But it doesn’t mean I haven’t done it either.’ I loved the cheeky allure of this quote, and I had to smile when I read it. After all, I’ve lost times of the number of times I’ve been asked this very same question!

MK Elliot MarissaSo where does an erotica author get his or her inspiration? Even authors who don’t live a more exotic lifestyle, such as being in a BDSM relationship, or working in the sex industry, can take inspiration from real life. Life for me is far from exciting. I’m a married mother of three small children, so I have to get my inspiration from the more ‘normal’ things in life. This isn’t a problem, of course, because inspiration can come from all the influences in our lives. My latest novel, ‘Survivor’, which I hope to have out later this year, was partly influenced by my husband’s love of survivalist shows. The only reason I happily watch these shows with him is because of the (usually) hot, half naked man who spends an hour fighting his way through the jungle; the very epitome of an alpha male. On one particular show, they brought a female celebrity along, and I thought to myself ‘I bet she’s only gone on this show so she can spend a week up close and personal with him.’ And so my novel was born. I started writing it that very same night!

My latest serial was also inspired by a real life event. A few years ago, I attended (and spoke at) an erotica writer’s conference, Eroticon. Speaking at this conference was an erotic photographer. I’ve always loved anything artistic, and so went along to his session. It was during this talk that I started wondering about how the relationship between the photographer and a model might develop, especially since the model is exposing herself in the most intimate of ways. How could there not be some sexual tension in the room?

And so my serial, ‘Model, Wanted,’ came into creation. There are now four parts to the serial, with the fourth part just released, and part one free across most retailers!

So how about you? Are there any particular moments in life that have inspired a short story or a novel, or, if you’re a reader, moments that have happened that you wish could have inspired a story? If so I’d love to hear about them! And if you’d like you check out ‘Model, Wanted: Part One’ for free, you can do so by clicking on the following links!

Model, Wanted: Part One Excerpt:

Eric cleared his throat and forced himself to his feet. His job was to photograph her like this, not imagine how she would taste as he pushed his tongue inside her cunt.

He adjusted the lighting hanging from the rail on the ceiling and then picked up his camera. He started with shots of her face, one cheek crushed against the white paper-covered floor, her eyes wide and innocent, portraying her vulnerability. Such contrast to the pose she was in. He moved to her back and hands, taking shots of the metal bound around her slender wrists.

Finally, he moved the camera to aim between her thighs, at the way her spread position exposed her pussy and ass to him in all of their perfection.

“Are you going to fuck me like this?” she asked out of the blue.

He lowered the camera in shock. “That isn’t what this is about.”

She twisted her neck as best she could and locked eyes with him. “What about if that’s what I want this to be about?”

“Anya …”

But he didn’t know what he was going to say. Surely he didn’t intend on telling her no? The position she was in, with her cheek pressed against the floor, her ankles forced apart, her perfect heart-shaped bottom pushed into the air, was just ripe for fucking hard. Between her slender thighs, the swollen lips of her vulva peeped out. He didn’t think he imagined the sheen on her pussy or the inside of her thighs.

His balls ached and his cock lengthened in his pants. Her gaze shifted, resting on the increasingly obvious bulge in his crotch.

“Anya,” he tried again. “It’s crossing a line. I don’t want to be that kind of man …”

“But I want to be that kind of girl,” she said. She spread her ankles wider, pulling the small chains between the spreader bar taut. The metal clinked in response. The position widened her stance, her thighs even more spread than before, exposing the star of her asshole and the delicate inner folds of her pussy.

“Oh, God,” he moaned.

Fuck it. He might want to be a professional when it came to his photography, but he was still a man.

With one swift move, he undid his belt and whipped it from the loops of his pants. He took her bottom between his hands and lowered his face to her wet slit like a man starving. The scent of her juices filled his senses, a musky but sweet perfume. He buried his tongue between her folds, seeking her waiting hole. Hardening his tongue, he slipped inside her easily, her arousal and juices opening her up to him. Her cream covered his mouth, moistening his chin, and he moved in and out, feeling her inner muscles tighten and contract around his tongue.

Anya writhed and moaned beneath his attention, but he wasn’t going to let her come yet.

Eric knelt up behind her, admiring the view. He’d never had someone so submissive to him before, allowing him to do such things to her without any trepidation at the possibility that he might hurt her in some way. He knew she trusted him implicitly.

He took the rock-hard length of his cock in one hand and gave it a couple of strokes. The head was purple and bulbous, the length ridged with veins standing out beneath the silky skin. His balls throbbed with a heavy ache and he longed to bury himself in her silken heat. It was what he’d been dreaming of doing from the moment she’d first walked into his apartment.

With her head twisted so she could watch him, her cheek pressed against the floor, her gaze locked on his face, he slowly ran the head of his cock along the opening of her cunt. He groaned at the heat of her, smearing himself with a mixture of his saliva and her desire. Then he grasped her bottom, one cheek in each hand, and thrust himself deep.

Part One: Blurb

Meet Eric Rutherford, bad boy of the photographic world, guaranteed to bring his models to their knees.

At the top of his game, Eric creates images for five star hotels and portraits for wealthy families.

But Eric has a dream. He longs to create erotic art. He has an eye for a woman’s beauty, but he doesn’t just want to photograph a woman naked, he also wants to tie her up, and down. He wants to bind rope across her breasts, tight enough that the rope leaves an imprint on her skin. He wants to have her on her knees, with her hands handcuffed to her ankles. He wants to whip her rounded pale bottom with a leather flogger, and then photograph the red stripes.

So his search for his perfect model begins and when an advert brings the beautiful, blonde Anya into his apartment, his one fear is that she’ll say no.

Follow erotic photographer, Eric, and model, Anya’s sexy exploits as they push the boundaries of not only their art, but their relationship. How far will they go to fulfil their sexual and artistic desires? 

Find Model, Wanted: Part One Here:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Barnes & Noble

iTunes

About M.K. 

M.K. Elliott is the author of the bestselling short story collection, ‘Rescued.’ A British author, she was born in Devon, England, where she now lives with her husband, three young daughters, two rescue cats, and a crazy Spanish dog. Though she has a degree in Zoology, her true love has always been writing and she now works as a full time author. As well as erotica, she also writes paranormal fiction in the name Marissa Farrar, and has recently published her twelfth novel.

Since ‘Rescued’ hit the number one spot, she’s also had several other titles hit the bestseller list, including another short story collection, ‘Some Love it Hot,’ and her erotic vampire novella, ‘Deadly Beauty.’ Her most recent work is the sexy serial, ‘Model, Wanted.’

M.K. writes everything from contemporary romance to steaming hot erotica, and her love of travel and adventure is her main influence in her stories.

If you would like to know more about M.K. then please visit her Facebook Page https://www.facebook.com/M.K.Elliotts.Erotica or blog http://mkelliott.wordpress.com/. You can also stalk her on twitter, http://twitter.com/M_K_Elliott .

 

Sallyanne Rogers Accepts THE ULTIMATE CHALLENGE!

SallyAnne Rogers“If anyone can write an erotic novel about Morris dancers and make it sexy, it’ll be me.” I said it more than once, not really meaning it the first few times, but it took on a life of its own, and people began to take me a little more seriously than I had thought they might.

After all, I am probably the only person – though if there’s more of you out there, do get in touch – who is both erotic writer and Morris dancer. Really, it had to be done and, more than that, I really wanted to do it.

Blah blah beer guts, blah blah beards, blah blah old men… the lazy stereotypes around Morris dancing annoy me anyway. There are actually loads of dancers under 30 these days, male and female, and while not everyone can be super-model beautiful, there are plenty of fit bodies and sexy movers to admire should you stop by a local folk festival. There are quite a few contemporary takes on the whole business, as well. When I first started dancing, I belonged to the Prince Albert Morris, a team who mixed folk traditions with BDSM and fetish regalia and appeared on TV several times during the late 1990s: nowadays there’s a Steampunk Morris side who dance to classic rock tunes, and the traffic-stopping Belles of London City in their corsets and petticoats, among others.

Of course, there’s a certain amount of tension – and there always has been – between traditionalists and modernizers. That gave me something to use as a source of the conflict that would drive the plot of Spring In My Step. If my hero and heroine were attracted to each other but on opposing sides of the What Morris Dancing Should Be Like debate, they would have to work out a way of reconciling their differences to get to their happy ending. I did draw on a variety of things that happened to me during my time with Prince Albert, particularly the fact that we were originally put together at the request of a TV company. Adding a camera crew who were making a documentary to my story was the factor that made everything fall neatly into place.

I don’t know if Spring In My Step will encourage more people to take up Morris dancing in the hope of finding a sexy dancing partner of their own, but it would be quite cool if that happened.

 

Spring in My Step Blurb:

When Cath meets Robbie for the first time, she decides to hold back on telling him she’s a Morris dancer who’s about to be featured in a TV programme about contemporary British culture. She’s not expecting more than a one-night stand in the first place, so there’s no need to complicate things. However, what started out as a bit of fun looks like it could turn into something more, as the two of them find their mutual attraction too strong to resist.The documentary crew are on the hunt for juicy controversies in the run up to the May Day festival at Waterleigh Bridge, and it seems that Robbie has a secret of his own. If he and Cath find out the truth about one another, will it bring them closer or tear them apart?

Buy Spring in My Step Here:

Xcite Books

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

The Morris Shop

About Sallyanne:

Sallyanne Rogers has written articles for adult magazines including Forum in the past, and has previously worked on market stalls selling vintage clothes and magazines. This inspired her first novella for Xcite, Midwinter Heat. She has also been a morris dancer for about 15 years.

Her website is http://sallyannerogers0112.wordpress.com and she is on Twitter @dswsallyanne and on Facebook as Sallyanne Rogers (there is more than one person by that name, though)

 

 

 

 

Channeling the Cat by Lisabet Sarai

The Eyes Of BastIt’s almost a joke – the common association between authors and cats. I haven’t done a systematic survey, but I would estimate that at least 75% of the authors I hosts as blog guests mention feline companions in their bios. I’m no exception. I currently have two cats who traveled with us from the United States to southeast Asia ten years ago, and who have settled in quite comfortably.

Of course, many famous writers were renowned for their close relationships with their felines.  Colette, Papa Hemingway, Jean-Paul Satre, Ray Bradbury… the list goes on and on.  The inspiration for my erotic writing career, Portia da Costa, is a huge cat lover – that’s one of the things that forged a bond between us.

Many explanations have been offered for the feline-author affinity. A cat doesn’t need to be walked, so we can spend our time at our desks as opposed to trucking around on the street scooping up their business. Cats are mysterious creatures with many layers of personality – rather like effective characters. Cats have an elegance and precision of movement we writers might use as a model for our prose. Many authors have cited their felines as sources of inspiration. Noted Canadian writer Robertson Davies once said “Authors like cats because they are such quiet, lovable, wise creatures, and cats like authors for the same reason.”

The other day, I was suddenly struck by a new theory. I was thinking about the fact that so many authors report hearing “voices”. “I just listen to my characters, and write down what they say,” one of my guests commented. Writing sometimes feels like something driven from outside, beyond our conscious control. Well, what if that’s true?

What if it’s not our characters who are dictating the story? What if it’s our cats?

Ridiculous, right? But Mr. Toes sits behind my monitor most days I’m writing. He pretends to be asleep, but if I should get up for a bathroom break or a drink of water, he stirs and gives me a look, as it to say, “Where are you going? The story’s not done yet!”

I grew up with cats. I grew up writing fiction. When I went off to college and then grad school, I left the felines behind, and although I wrote lots of poetry during that period, I didn’t pen a single story. Then I met my husband, a confirmed ailurophile, and filled my life with felines once more. Next thing you know, I was a published author.

Ever tried to write when your cat was sick? Tough to concentrate on the tale, isn’t it?

And wouldn’t this explain why our characters are larger than life? Why they have so much vitality, such powerful passions, such intense adventures? How could a mere human imagine such creatures? Cats, though – they have superhuman abilities. Just ask them.

Of course to really test this, we’d all have to get rid of our felines and then see if we could still write.

That might be informative. It might restore our self-respect. But it’s simply too painful to contemplate.

If I’m channeling my cats, I’m okay with that. As long as they don’t want their names on the cover.

Meanwhile, I’ve finally written a story in which a cat has center stage. The Eyes of Bast is a shifter tale with a difference. Read on to learn more.

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Excerpt:

Tom finally broke the kiss and leaned back with a sigh. “Ah, Shaina! I should never have allowed you near me. But I was so very lonely… I wasn’t thinking straight. Now I’ve put you in danger too.”

“Danger? What kind of danger?” I reached over to flick the switch on my reading lamp, so I could read his expressions. Then I seated myself cross-legged at his feet and clasped his hands in mine. “Tell me, Tom. Tell me everything.”

“You will not believe me.”

“How could I not believe after – after what I saw this morning?”

His brows knotted together. “I never wanted you to see – I was careless…”

“But I did see. And now I know, at least something about you. But I don’t know enough to help you out of whatever trouble you’re in. Tell me the whole truth. I promise I’ll keep it private, if that’s what you want. And I promise I won’t be shocked.”

Tom’s lush mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust. “You might not be able to keep that promise. But never mind. You’ve asked. I’ll tell you.”

He stared off into the distance, above my head. “I was born in a small town in coastal Maine, about seven years ago.”

“Seven years…?”

“I was born a cat.”

I choked down my cry of surprise. How could it be…?

“Yes. I was born under a wharf. I spent the first six months of my life as a black kitten, a stray living off the scraps from the fishing boats and clam shacks. Then she caught me and made me her prisoner.”

“She?”

“I don’t even want to utter her name. There’s danger in the very word. She is a witch, centuries old, a practitioner of the darkest arts – the epitome of evil. Out walking one evening along the rocky shore, she caught sight of me and wanted me as her familiar. It was easy for her to lure me into her clutches.

“At first she just used me to facilitate her spells. The rumored powers of black cats are more than just legend. Before long, though, she began to experiment.”

His ominous tone sent a chill through my naked body. I pulled the towel around me.

“You see, her advanced age hadn’t diminished her lust. Quite the opposite. She wanted a sexual plaything, someone she could use to satisfy her perverted desires. A male body she could own and control. So she delved into her books of magic, seeking a spell that would turn her poor innocent feline familiar into a man – at least when she wanted him that way.

“Her first attempts failed.” Tom shuddered at the recollection. “She barely managed to save my life. I guess she’d grown fond of me at that point – in her own twisted way.”

“Oh, Tom…”

“Finally, she found a ritual that would change an animal into a human during the hours when the sun was banished from the earth. I’ll never forget the terror of that first transformation, when I found myself wobbling on two legs in front of her naked body. It was even worse than what came after.”

“What was that?”

“Oh, Shaina – I was human, but scarcely a man. I was barely thirteen.”

*****

Blurb:

Trust your heart. Follow your dreams.

Shaina Williams’ grandmother bequeathed her that wisdom, along with a old pendant from the Islands, carved from an ocelot’s tooth. When instinct tells Shaina to visit the feral cat trap she’d set in Central Park, she listens to that inner voice, She discovers she’s caged a magnificent black tom, but the cat inexplicably vanishes after she tends to his wounds. Seeking the errant feline, Shaina encounters instead a handsome stranger whose slightest touch sets her body on fire. As the day dawns after a night of ferocious passion, her mysterious lover is forced back into his true shape – the tomcat she’d rescued.

Born a cat, Tom was transformed into an unwilling shape shifter by a sorceress who craved a human plaything to satisfy her perverse lusts. Centuries old and irresistibly powerful, Delphine Montserrat will stop at nothing to find her runaway familiar. Shaina vows to do whatever is necessary to defeat the vicious but seductive witch and save the man she believes is her soul mate – even though it might mean losing him forever.

Buy Links:

Amazon UK | Amazon US

*****

About the Author:

When I was a little girl, my dad would make up stories for my siblings and me, fabulous sagas about ghosts and monsters, magical races with mysterious powers, heroes on impossible quests, hidden treasures awaiting only the most courageous seeker. I blame him for my lifelong fascination with the magical and miraculous.

Now that I’m grown up, I create my own tales of wonder, weaving in generous portions of human desire with its potent enchantments. In my paranormal tales, love works the most powerful magick.

Find out more about me and my books at my website, Lisabet’s Fantasy Factory (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) and my blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com). I also hang out on Goodreads (http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai) and Amazon (https://www.amazon.com/author/lisabetsarai).  I also have a VIP readers email list where I share release and contest information and run exclusive monthly giveaways. To join, just email me: lisabet [at] lisabetsarai [dot] com.

 

Wolfsong Lullaby: A Sneak Peek at H D March’s New Release

Helen Duggan Ellen March 23 JuneThank you again K D for this opportunity to blog on your site. Only this time as H D March the alter ego of Ellen March. I’m still writing erotic romance, only this time in the paranormal. And I love it. The first of my vampire trilogy signed up with Passion in Print is available on release 21st June. Wolfsong Lullaby will be followed by Requiem and Soul. I adore my vampire bad boys, along with the sexy Werelion Chaya. He’s such a wicked cat, and awesome, a real pain in the ass to Quest the hero of Lullaby.

When wild child Lyric arrives on Coral Island to write her thesis on sex, she soon discovers a world she never knew existed. Lyric is torn between the hot vampire Quest and the mischievous Werelion Chaya. But there is something that intends spoiling her fun. Fuelling a long delayed destiny. One that is entwined with a curse. Because Lyric’s presence has awakened an evil entity. Its target, her soul. Only Quest stands in the way but will his strength be enough to save her.

The tale takes you through love, revenge, courage and betrayal as each of the three Declare brothers discover their own nemesis. They fight for their loved ones and are forced to consider what they’d always abhorred now needs to be understood. Yet only one emotion will free them, that’s’ love, but is it enough to unchain them from years of hatred by another. If your wish is to curl up into a wicked fantasy. Delve into the lives of hot sexy heroes, and flawed heroines. To melt beneath the intense love scenes, weep for them, and laugh with them then Wolfsong delivers.

I love the freedom that writing paranormal gives me, leaving my imagination fly. The research has to be my favourite part and in particular studying mythology and putting my own slant on things. It also gave me a nudge in another direction and recently I’ve had Song of the Dragon accepted by Passion in Print, a humorous tale of Dragon shifters, with a crazy kleptomaniac fairy Elspeth who’s crude and swears like a trooper along with her not so sexy angel boyfriend Troy. Greylan is my awesome Dragon King who takes a shine to heroine Raven, until he discovers who she is. And does what any self-respecting Dragon would do, kidnaps her.

I have so much fun writing hot paranormal the ideas come fast and furious and currently I’ve just completed another vampire story Rune and already have rumbles of its sister book.

EXCERPT:

Lyric checked the time, and at exactly seven, a knock sounded from the door. She moved to answer it; a swell of nerves swirled in her belly. Opening it, she snatched in a gasp at the sight of Quest dressed all in black.

He looked all male, hot and totally fuckable. A testosterone delight that she would take great pleasure in unwrapping and licking. A truly alpha male experience.

His gaze, she noticed, dropped to the plunging neckline of her dress.

It clung to each curve; a creation made to invoke a man’s sexual thoughts and dreams. Her calling card. She didn’t miss his gaze liquefy as it dusted over her.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Quest waited. A lot of things the vampires had outsmarted; learnt to live with. But the request for entry remained in force.

It was called good manners.

A slither of a wicked grin played around her lips, and she stood back. “Please, come on in.”

Quest gave the briefest of acknowledgements and entered.

Lyric tried to swallow the posse of nerves rampaging through her. Hell, he looked hot. A virile magnetism bounced off him. His gaze, the hot promise from his golden eyes, sent a host of ripples shooting over her. A veritable riptide dragging her under, and she so wanted to skip the banal talk and fuck him stupid. “What would you like to drink?” Relief hit her that she could speak. This man took everything from her, speech, thought, and common sense. And she prayed he’d give it back in return and take. Take what she needed to give him, what she craved off him.

“Nothing. I’ve already eaten.”

She shrugged her shoulders, not quite the answer, but hey ho. Then walked in front of him to the small lounge. Lyric had her questions laid out, at least some of them, curious to know how he would reply. She tried to focus, to tear her thoughts away from his erection sitting snug in his trousers. One that she wanted to take deep inside her.

She tried not to glance down; he wasn’t hard yet, but even so, he had an impressive package. One of the biggest lazy lobs it had ever been her pleasure to sift her eyes over. She licked her lips, not missing how his attention devoured her.

Lyric motioned to the chair, the one she intended conducting her interview from. “Take a seat.”

“So, what is it you want to know?” Quest crossed one leg over the other, the material of his trousers strained taut over his heavily muscled thigh.

“I have a number of questions, which obviously we won’t get through tonight. I need an insight into a man’s prospective.” Her hand shook as she checked the paper out and cursed, wishing she could keep in control

“Begin.”

“Well, first of all, what does it for you? What makes you horny?” She shuffled the papers and tried to quell her nerves. That one word he spoke smashed into her defences; her blood boiled; her skin shivered. God knows what I’d do if he speaks dirty to me. And she wriggled her hips, a distinct dampness between her legs.

“You.” His gaze melted over her.

Oh, fuck. “Whoa, I mean give me a description of the person that would attract you and why.”

“It’s not the looks, it’s the emotion, the connection; do you understand?”

“How do you mean it?” She ran the pencil around on her piece of paper. Doodling. Pretending nonchalance. Anything to keep from pouncing on him, dragging his body to the floor. Lyric continued to draw little star shaped signs. Her mind, her predatory thoughts, on him.

God, she needed to release his so impressive cock, one that she knew lurked beneath his trousers. With determination, she kept her gaze from his crotch because any second she would throw her pad, pencil, and sanity into the air and jump him. She fidgeted, her damp panties soaked against a randy clit.

“I could look at a woman and not feel a thing, yet with you…” He flashed a sexy wink. “You do it for me; I want to sink deep into you.”

Lyric all but groaned. “Okay, what makes you hard?”

“Same answer sweetheart, you do.”

“Bullshit, aside from me, name an instance.” She hauled in a hungry gasp of breath. Unaware, the words blasted out, echoing her thoughts. She spoke them without thinking. “Would you like sex with me?” Fuck, did I just say that? Please God, say yes because, honey, I’m going to leap your bones.

He turned to her, a splash of pure lust burned across his face. “”Hell, yes, why do you think I’m here?”

Thank Christ for that! A raze of relief hit her, so hard she shuddered beneath its onslaught. She liked him. No, she didn’t, she argued with herself. Like was too mild a word. She wanted to fuck him; heck his body, his everything, did it for her. And also, she admired the fact he knew his own mind. That he needed sex as much as she craved it.

Lyric rose and moved to him. She leaned across and draped her hand over his so evident hard-on, her hand palmed his jaw, caressing. With infinite care, she bent her head, her lips seeking his; she licked him across his cheek. One super luscious slurp that smacked of sex and longing.

Her lips hovered over his. “Then kiss me.” Her words sprinkled over him in a hot whisper.

“No, baby, I never kiss, only fuck.” He continued his wandering tease over her skin.

Lyric reared back; it smacked of rented sex. A fuel of anger exploded. “Then, in that case, I suggest you leave, now.”

“What?”

“You heard me; you don’t kiss, then, honey, trust me, that cock of yours is going nowhere near me.”

Quest’s face hardened; his eyes wide, they flared in surprise. And quickly narrowed, a deep molten gold burned into her. An intense heat blasted from him. “What did you say?”

Lyric pointed, her finger quivered with anger that he thought her a quick jump, with no emotion. Even though it would be, but under her terms. “Get the hell out now!”

“What about the tutorials?”

“Has got nothing at all to do with you; now, if you would kindly leave.”

Quest glared at her; no one, and that meant no one, ever told him what to do. Yet it seemed this galling woman had managed to succeed in doing just that.

He gave a sharp nod and, with a sweeping, glaring glance, left, swearing he’d be back because she would bow to what he wanted. And in the meantime, he’d watch over her, only too aware that Chaya sat in the wings.

Buy Wolfsong Lullaby Here: 

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http://passioninprint.com/ShowBook.php?10=HDM_WOLFSONGL

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The Romance Reviews

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