Saturday, December 17, 2022

Sexy Saturday: Once Upon a Blizzard Excerpt and Guest Post


New Release!

Once Upon a Blizzard:

A Bisexual Holiday Romance

By Lisabet Sarai

Bisexual (MMF) holiday πŸŽ„ erotic romance (5 flames)


14,800 words

Smashwords and Amazon KDP

ISBN (Smashwords): 9781005502300



#HolidayRomance #NewEngland #SecondChanceRomance #Bisexual #Blizzard #Voyeurism #HighSchoolSweetheart #SnowedIn #MMRomance


No electricity. No water. Plenty of heat.

Suzanne and Gino have a history going back to high school, but for more than a decade the workaholic CEO has been thousands of miles from her New England home town.

A mistletoe kiss at a Christmas party rekindles the old spark and Suzanne finds some things do indeed get better with age. When Gino rescues her from a blizzard, though, she discovers that she's not the only love in his life. Gino shares his bed and his colonial-era farm house with taciturn painter Harris Steele.

Snowed in with two lusty men who truly seem to care, she wonders why she’s so determined to return to her lonely West Coast life. Is there really a chance for a holiday happy ending?

Note: this book was previously published by Totally Entwined with the title Almost Home. It has been revised and re-edited for this edition.

PG Excerpt

The kiss caught her off guard.

One moment Suzanne was standing in the doorway to Helena’s den, scanning the occupants and wondering if she knew anyone at all at this party. The next moment someone twirled her around and fastened a pair of firm lips on hers. Out of instinct or habit, she closed her eyes. The darkness heightened her other senses. Powerful arms circled her body and pulled her against a fuzzy male chest. Her partner’s scent rose around her, a complex mix of soap and musk, evergreen and wood smoke. His tongue teased the seam where her lips met and she let him enter, her self-protective reflexes dulled by his warmth and the glass of merlot she’d downed on her arrival.

His mouth tasted of eggnog and candy canes, appropriately seasonal. He was delicious, in fact—not just his mouth but the quiet confidence of his probing tongue, the sculpted muscle she felt under his sweater, his bold hands wandering across her back to her buttocks. She hadn’t enjoyed a kiss like this in a long time.

She’d felt chilled and tense ever since her plane touched down in frigid Boston but now her muscles began to unknot. He was a miniature sun, melting her, turning her languid and dreamy. She clutched at his solid form and returned his kiss, trading heat for heat. Tropical colors paraded behind her eyelids—fuschia, lime, peach, and aqua—shimmering like the water in her pool back home. She even began to perspire, her long-sleeved velvet dress suddenly too warm for comfort.

He pulled her full hips against his lean ones. A tell-tale lump, wonderfully hard, pressed against her belly. Her panties and tights dampened, too.

Normally she would have resisted but stress and alcohol made her susceptible. She allowed the kiss to lengthen and deepen, sinking into the pure pleasure of it.

A smattering of applause brought her back to awareness. “Whoa there!” hooted one of the guests. “You two want some privacy?”

Suzanne broke away from the man who had ambushed her. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Embarrassment added a sharp edge to her voice.

The dark haired man favored her with a grin. “Mistletoe,” he said, pointing upward. Sure enough, a cluster of green leaves and pale berries dangled from the door frame. He could scarcely contain his laughter.

That laugh. That voice. Something tickled Suzanne’s memory. “Gino!” she exclaimed, finally, chuckling herself. “I can’t believe it! Still acting like we’re in high school.”

I couldn’t resist, Suzy Q.” The old nickname made her blush. He hadn’t relinquished her hand. “In fact, if you don’t move, I’m very likely to kiss you again.”

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New England Nostalgia

For the past two decades I’ve resided in the tropics of Southeast Asia, but before we moved here, my husband and I lived in a rural town in the Pioneer Valley of western Massachusetts. The region offers fantastic natural beauty, wonderful local food, and a culture of easy-going individualism that suited us well. However, it also requires a certain level of fortitude from its inhabitants. One spends a significant amount of time and effort dealing with the environment: battling undergrowth, pulling weeds, raking leaves, shoveling snow, cleaning gutters, installing or removing storm windows and snow tires, checking the anti-freeze in the radiator and the oil in the furnace tank, storing summer clothing while exhuming winter garb and vice versa, catching and evicting mice and squirrels, and so on. Folks in the Pioneer Valley have to be tough.

New England winters are not as cold as some parts of the U.S., like Wisconsin or Minnesota, but they’re far less predictable. I can remember sixty degree weather on Christmas Eve in some years, temperatures below zero in others. Ice storms are a real menace; one year an ice-laded bough snapped off one of our trees and thoroughly crushed the roof of my car. Then there was the morning I skidded on a snowy road on my way to work and rammed into a tree, crumpling the front end like tin foil. Scary indeed.

No, New England was not for the faint of heart. After the easy life here in Asia, I can’t imagine ever going back.

Nevertheless, I have incredibly vivid memories of New England’s unique charms and I do find myself becoming nostalgic. One of the joys of being a writer that I can channel this nostalgia into my stories.

Once Upon a Blizzard draws heavily from my own experience. The farm house occupied by Gino and Harris is based on the home of our close neighbor (although they didn’t have a hot tub in their back yard). The crispness of the winter air, the clarity of the winter sky, the distant clank of the snow plows when they finally arrive – I’ve been there.

The strangely freeing experience of being snowed in, without electricity, heat or running water is something I remember well. It’s almost like a holiday. Time is suspended. You’re forced to let go. You’ll get dug out, eventually. You’re not that worried, because of course you’re prepared with wood for the fireplace, propane for the stove, candles and flash lights. That’s just how New Englanders are.

My heroine in Once Upon a Blizzard grew up in the Pioneer Valley, but she has been working in Silicon Valley for a decade. In writing this story I was rediscovering, with her, the special magic of New England.

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genreparanormal, scifi, mΓ©nage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Youll find information and excerpts from all Lisabets books on her website (, along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (, she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. Shes also on Goodreads, Pinterest, and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here:

1 comment:

  1. Hello, Cie,

    Thanks so much for sharing the news about my new release!



I try to get comments published as quickly as possible. I don't always reply to comments on my blog, but I do try to visit as many people as possible when I participate in blog hops and I share links where possible to Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, and such so others can discover your work. I do read and appreciate your comments.