Showing posts with label sexy saturday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sexy saturday. Show all posts

Saturday, May 6, 2023

Sexy Saturday: Two Seeds are Sown Excerpt and Guest Post

 


Book Info:

Title: Two Seeds are Sown

Series: Seren’s Story

Author: Adriana Kraft

Publisher: eXtasy Books

Publication Date: May 5, 2023

ISBN  978-1-4874-3893-7         

Length:   6238 words   24 Pages  

Genres: Erotic romance, Historical Romance, Paranormal

Pairings: FF, FM, FFM, MFM

Tags: Celtic, Roman Britain

Heat rating: 4 flames

Blurb
Resist, or yield? The choice is not Seren’s alone.

Late in the Roman occupation of Britain, a young Welsh tribeswoman is hand selected and captured to serve as a courtesan to a Roman Legate and his wife. Escape proves impossible, but Seren is never completely abandoned. Her grandmother’s cryptic prophecy through their psychic connection seals her fate—it will be Seren’s lot to yield. The words both relieve Seren and further mystify her: You must find pleasure in your present life. Fulfillment will not be yours until after you cross into the next.



Buy Link:
Released May 5, 2023 at Extasy Books, all formats available:
Additional Links coming soon!

Excerpt

Seren struggled to stifle a shuddering sob as she let more memories drift through her mind. She risked a glance toward Livia, lying next to her in the bed—no harm done. The woman still breathed evenly and had not moved.

The memories flooded her mind. First her father, who had singled out Seren, his eldest daughter, to learn not only some of the strange conqueror’s language, but also some of the wisdom usually reserved for sons. From him she’d learned the name of the town she now knew to be her new home. Her grandmother—now beyond the curtain, but still able to make contact, who had tutored her in the special powers they both shared. She’d not heard from Grandmother since being captured, but she was confident the presence had not left her.

She knew it was her tribe—the Silures—who had held off the Roman conquest of Wales for more than two decades. The stories of that campaign more than a century earlier were still shared around her family’s hearthfire on winter evenings. Her father was descended from the famous warrior who had led the campaign—a connection that had proven useless so far in this more peaceful era. Would he rise up and come to her rescue? More likely, her family would accept that her captors held all the power, and they’d choose not to disturb the peace or draw attention to themselves. Scipio must have calculated this when he selected her.

Taking another deep breath, Seren let the memories fade and welcomed the allure of sleep.

Guest Post

Off and on for the last several months, I’ve been devouring fiction set in the first four centuries AD, focused on the Celtic peoples and the Roman occupation of Britain. So it’s probably no accident that sometime last winter, my husband and I unearthed a plot fragment we’d played with and never followed up on: What if a young Welsh tribeswoman was captured by a high-ranking Roman soldier to be a courtesan for him and his wife, and was separated forever from her only child, a daughter? And then, what if it’s her task across time to re-unite her family through bringing together a descendant of her daughter and a descendant of her subsequent Roman son?

Seren’s Story, a two book erotic romance series, is the result. Book One, Two Seeds are Sown, has just been released at Extasy Books, and Book Two, From Beyond the Curtain, will follow in July.

When the Romans invaded the British Isles, they began in the south and reached what is now Wales in about 48 AD. The wild tribes they encountered there presented some of the fiercest early opposition. Welsh folklore has immortalized one of the last Welsh resistors to yield to the Romans: Caractacus (or Caradoc),the leader of the Silures tribe, who lived in southeast Wales in the lowlands along the northern shore of the Bristol Channel.

To subdue the indigenous peoples, the Romans established forts, built roads so they could rapidly move their armies, and developed one town. Venta Silurum was located in what is now Caerwent, a mile or two off the channel and roughly 8 miles east of Newport. Caractacus himself was ultimately captured and taken to Rome, where he died in 54 AD.

We’ve found nothing to indicate whether or not he left children behind in Wales, but we’ve chosen to believe he must have done so. In our fictional account, Seren’s father is a local Silures chieftain directly descended from Caractacus, who lived over a century earlier. Seren has inherited not only his standing and his fierce determination, but also several psychic gifts from her grandmother, including divination, the ability to time travel, and metaphysical communication with others. These characteristics and talents form the kernel from which our story has grown.




Author Bio

Adriana Kraft is the pen name for a married pair of retired professors writing erotic romance and erotic romantic suspense together. We like to think we’ve broken the mold for staid, fusty academics, and we hope lots of former profs are enjoying life as much as we are. 

Having lived in many states across the Midwest, we now make our home in southern Arizona, where we enjoy hiking, golf, and travel, especially to the many Arizona Native American historical sites. 

 Together we have published more than fifty romance novels and novellas to outstanding reviews. Whether readers open our romantic suspense or our erotic romance, they can expect characters they care about, hot sex scenes, and a compelling story.

Author Links

Blog: https://www.adrianakraft.com/blog

Newsletter: Get your free copy of Swingers Light Up Vegas for Newsletter signups:

https://storyoriginapp.com/giveaways/d1c82f5e-9b43-11ed-8c5e-b712215e57d9

Twitter https://twitter.com/AdrianaKraft

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/adriana.kraft.5

FaceBook Fan Page https://www.facebook.com/AdrianaKraftAuthor

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/author/adrianakraft

GoodReads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1578571.Adriana_Kraft

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

MeWe https://mewe.com/i/adriana1kraft

Mastadon @AdrianaKraft@mastodon.otherworldsink.com



Saturday, April 15, 2023

Sexy Saturday: Smoldering Passion Guest Post


 Book Information

Title: Smoldering Passion

Passion Series, Book One

Can be read as a stand-alone

Author: Adriana Kraft

Publisher: eXtasy Books

Publication Date: April 7, 2023

Length: 70,259 words

Genres: Erotic Romance, LGBT Romance

Pairings: MF, FF, FFF, FMF, MFM

Tags: Contemporary, Menage, Bisexual, FM, FF, New York City, struggling artist, age gap

Heat rating: four flames


Blurb

Her passion smolders. Will it ignite?

When art student Melissa Hopkins finally unpacks the two boxes her Aunt Phoebe left for her and sees Phoebe’s black and white photos, it’s like opening Pandora’s Box. A simple quest to find a new job morphs into an about face—not just in her art, but in her career and personal life. Short on funds now that her graduate stipend is ending, she applies to work where Aunt Phoebe once worked: a center for sexuality and sex studies.

Sworn off women after a disastrous relationship, Center Director Harry Gage ignores the danger signals and hires the striking young woman who reminds him of his former lover. Her air of innocence will captivate center viewers, so he’s sure she’ll be a hit on camera. What he’s not prepared for is how she pierces his heart.

When the sparks flare up, is it love or just sex—and what must each of them risk to find out?


Buy links

https://books2read.com/u/3nDdOe

https://www.extasybooks.com/Smoldering-Passion


Excerpt

Melissa stood and rotated her shoulders. She had to get out of her apartment. It was a beautiful day, and she didn’t want to spend it all inside.

She grabbed her keys and some cash and headed down the stairs to street level. She walked briskly, suddenly knowing where she wanted to be.

Shortly, she turned in at the entrance to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens and slowed her pace, pausing to watch the ducks in the Japanese water garden. This was space for relaxing – for breathing deeply, soaking in colors and breezes and scents. The riot of spring blooms was long gone, and summer was at its peak. She headed for the Shakespeare Garden and was relieved to find a shady bench empty in a secluded corner. Daisies, black-eyed Susans, and daylilies formed a casual cluster in yellow, white, and orange beside the bench. Further off, some taller mauve blooms she couldn’t name were full of butterflies, and a curly-headed toddler ran up to them laughing gleefully. The child’s parents stood nearby, holding hands, happy, as if they had no care in the world.

Melissa shook off a wave of loneliness. She waited till the family left and headed across the broad open meadow toward the rock garden, stopping to watch more children playing tag and hiding behind shrubs and bushes. An artist had set up his easel next to a large, tall tree that had one out-of-place, low-slung branch reaching several yards straight out, parallel to the ground. She could easily imagine relaxing under the protective boughs, but she knew better than to disturb his scene or ask what he was seeing.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She stopped and turned around. Nothing seemed out of place – the children were still running with abandon, lovers walked hand-in-hand stopping for brief kisses – there! A man stood on a distant knoll watching where she stood. A hat pulled low on his head served almost as a mask.

She cocked her head to the side. Harry? She jogged toward the small hill. The man turned and scurried over the rise. When she crested it, there was nothing but trees, bushes, and flowers. Not a single person was in the little glade.

Harry was really getting to her. Now she was seeing him where she knew he never would be. She laughed freely and headed back to her apartment. Harry probably never left Manhattan.

* * * *

Not looking back, Harry scampered toward his car, parked a couple blocks away. That was close. What would he have said if she’d spied him? He didn’t often hang out in Brooklyn – though that had been changing of late. Brooklyn seemed quaint compared to Manhattan, but it was where she lived.

What would Melissa have said if she’d caught up with him? Would she be pleased to know he’d followed her? Or would she be frightened?

He chuckled. He didn’t think she’d be frightened. Maybe mad as hell, but not frightened.


Guest Post

Do you love New York or hate it? I love it. Our newest release, Smoldering Passion (Extasy Books, April 7, 2023), pulls together some of what my husband and I love best about New York and pays tribute to a favorite aunt of mine. It’s no accident that we placed our fictional Center for Sexuality and Sex Studies in a vintage Greenwich village Brownstone, where everything we love about the city is easily accessible.

We gave our heroine, Melissa Hopkins, a Brooklyn apartment and neighborhood based on our son’s just after college – upstairs over a laundromat, not far from what was once Dodger Stadium/Ebbets Field. The neighborhood is polyglot, full of deli’s, coffee shops, shoebox restaurants, and specialty grocery stores from almost any cuisine. It’s also in easy walking distance of the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. One of my favorite scenes in Smoldering Passion takes place in its Shakespeare Garden, where I’ve often sat and watched the crowd.

Somewhat older than Melissa, hero Harry Gage is the director of our fictional Center. A Manhattan snob, he takes a dim view of pretty much any place that isn’t Manhattan, Brooklyn being near the top of his list. He lives in a high-rise condo apartment with floor to ceiling windows overlooking Central Park. We took advantage of that window for another of my favorite scenes.

When the story opens, Melissa is an art student working on her master’s degree, and she needs a job. She’s technically very proficient in her art medium but has been told she lacks passion. She answers an ad for a research worker at Harry’s center – where her aunt used to work. We’ll let readers decide if Melissa succeeds in unlocking her hidden passions – we think they were smoldering all along.

Passion is exactly what prompted my favorite aunt to pursue a groundbreaking career in sex studies and erotic art and to champion women’s rights, and this series is dedicated to her memory.



Author Bio

Adriana Kraft is the pen name for a married pair of retired professors writing erotic romance and erotic romantic suspense together. We like to think we’ve broken the mold for staid, fusty academics, and we hope lots of former profs are enjoying life as much as we are.

Having lived in many states across the Midwest, we now make our home in southern Arizona, where we enjoy hiking, golf, and travel, especially to the many Arizona Native American historical sites.

Together we have published more than fifty romance novels and novellas to outstanding reviews. Whether readers open our romantic suspense or our erotic romance, they can expect characters they care about, hot sex scenes, and a compelling story.

Author Links

Blog: https://www.adrianakraft.com/blog

Newsletter: Get your free copy of Swingers Light Up Vegas for Newsletter signups:

https://storyoriginapp.com/giveaways/d1c82f5e-9b43-11ed-8c5e-b712215e57d9

Twitter https://twitter.com/AdrianaKraft

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/adriana.kraft.5

FaceBook Fan Page https://www.facebook.com/AdrianaKraftAuthor

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/author/adrianakraft

GoodReads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1578571.Adriana_Kraft

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

MeWe https://mewe.com/i/adriana1kraft


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 🎄 erotic romance (5 flames)

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

14,800 words

Smashwords and Amazon KDP

ISBN (Smashwords): 9781005502300

ASIN: ‎ B0BPMPZ7NG

Hashtags/Keywords

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

Blurb

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.”


Buy Links

Kinky Literature –

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BPMPZ7NG

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0BPMPZ7NG

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1263368

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/once-upon-a-blizzard-lisabet-sarai/1142821106

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/once-upon-a-blizzard

Apple Books - https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6445045725

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/65004121-once-upon-a-blizzard


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-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh






Saturday, July 2, 2022

Sexy Saturday: Incognito Book Review

 


Incognito: Secret Lives, Forbidden Loves
By Lisabet Sarai

Taboo contemporary erotic romance (Five flames)
BDSM/Ménage/Multiple partners/lesbian/gay
Smashwords and Amazon KDP (Fourth edition)
ISBN (Smashwords):  9781005550738
ASIN: B0B1N7CTMQ
Approximately 87,000 words, 293 pages
HEA ending

#menage #lgbtq #eroticromance #bondage #discipline #dominance #submission  #victorian #boston #beaconhill #london #crossdressing #literature #Shakespeare 
               
Shy and serious by day—insatiable by night.

Blurb

During the day, Miranda Cahill works diligently on her doctoral thesis. At night, she has sex with strangers.

Public coupling, multiple partners, age play, spankings, bondage, lesbian lust—each salacious adventure exposes new dimensions of her depravity. Her secret life explodes when she realizes her masked partner at a kink club and the charismatic colleague courting her are in fact the same man.

Dickens scholar Mark Anderson seems like an affable, uncomplicated Midwesterner, but he has hidden depths, myriad talents, and an unlimited appetite for erotic variety. With Mark as her guide, Miranda comes to accept the intricacy of her own desires, as well as to trust her heart.

Reader Advisory: This novel is an erotic romance featuring a committed relationship and culminating in a wedding. Nevertheless, the main characters participate in a wide range of taboo sexual activities, both together and separately.

PG-Rated Excerpt  (Victorian)

June 12, 1886

I scarcely know how to commence this account of my adventures and my sins. Indeed, I do not fully understand why I feel compelled to commit these things to writing. Clearly, my purpose is not to review and relive these experiences in the future, for in twenty minutes’ time these sentences will be invisible even to me. Perhaps in the years ahead, I will trail my fingers across the empty parchment, colored like flesh, and the memories will come alive without the words, coaxed from the pages by my touch like flames bursting from cold embers.

I have a secret life, another self, and that secret has become a burden that I clutch to myself, and yet would be relieved of. So, like the Japanese who write their deepest desires on slips of rice paper and then burn them, I write of secret joys and yearnings, and send that writing into oblivion.

Let me begin again. My name is Beatrice. The world sees me as poised, prosperous, respectable, wife of one of Boston’s leading merchants and industrialists, mother of two sweet children, lady of a fine brick house on fashionable Mount Vernon Street, with Viennese crystal chandeliers, Chinese porcelain, French velvet draperies, and Italian marble fireplaces. I devote myself to the education of my dear Daniel and Louisa, the management of my household, works of charity, cultural afternoons. In sum, the many and sundry details of maintaining oneself in proper society.

Though I have borne two children, I am still considered beautiful. Indeed, with my golden locks, fair skin, sapphire eyes and rosy lips, I am often compared to an angel. How little they know, those who so describe me. For in truth, I am depraved, wanton, and lecherous, so lost that I do not even regret my fall.

My husband is a kind, intelligent, and honorable man, for whom I have the deepest regard and affection. He treats me with the utmost consideration and respect; he rarely comes to my bed and when he does, he is profuse with apologies for his unfortunate lust. Alas, he hardly knows or understands me. I understand him to a much greater extent, enough to know that I must lie still and silent under him, not move or cry out as his manhood dances inside me. Everyone knows that for proper women, the rites of the flesh are a trial that must be endured; men are subject to carnal weakness, and women’s lot is to be the passive receptacle of their spending. This is what my husband believes. Knowing he believes this takes the fire from the moment, and makes it easier for me to play my frigid, compliant role.

I know better, though.

Today, I walked in Louisburg Square with Daniel, Louisa, and their nurse. The weather was glorious, sky of limpid blue sown with fluffy clouds, new leaves dancing in the breeze. My parasol raised against the sun, I did not see him until he was almost upon us.

He was of medium height, sumptuously attired, as fair-haired and blue-eyed as I. His mouth had a fullness that I liked, the look of someone who savors the sweet things in life, and a readiness to smile. As he swept off his hat and bowed, I noticed his hands, with long delicate fingers clad in beige kid gloves.

“Good afternoon, Madame,” he said courteously. “I trust that you and your children are enjoying this fine weather.”

Meanwhile, his eyes were sending me a different, more intimate message, which would have been lost on someone who was not sensitized to such things. There were no words in this message, only images, emotions, sensation, a quickening of breath, a heat, a tightening.

I am perpetually amazed at how we recognize each other, those of us who live beyond the pale of propriety. Is it some primal scent that we exude? Some subtle clue in posture or expression? Could it in fact be some spiritual connection, a mingling of thoughts in the ether? The mechanism is obscure to me, but I know the phenomenon only too well. I have sat in a concert hall with two hundred elegantly dressed, respectable members of proper society and found my eyes drawn to a single face in the balcony, a set of eyes that knew me, saw through my finery to the hungry flesh beneath.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” I said, my voice low and modest. “It is indeed fine, especially for so early in the season.”

“Of course, that may indicate that it will become hot sooner than usual.” The gentleman’s eyes sparkled with humor at his little private joke. Hot indeed, I thought to myself, adjusting my expression to signal some slight disapproval.

“I do not believe that I have the pleasure of your acquaintance, Sir,” I said.

“Forgive me for my lack of courtesy.” He reached into his waistcoat, withdrew a card and wrote something upon it. “Here is my card.”

“Thank you.” I examined the card. It was not, in fact, a visiting card, but a blank upon which he had inscribed the following few words:

Ten O’clock this evening

No. __ Beacon Street

With respect and hope,

Charles Burnside

His name was unknown to me. Clearly he must be one of the many visitors to our prosperous city. I gave him my most luminous smile. “Perhaps we will meet again, Sir.”

“I do hope so, Madame. Adieu for now.”


Review

There's a lot going on in Incognito, but the story is well-organized, so the reader never loses track. All too often, erotica only focuses on sex acts, but that isn't the case here. There is sex and a lot of it, but the story isn't just about who's getting off and how. The author delves into what makes the characters tick, particularly the main protagonist, Miranda. 

Many times in books and movies, I find that sex scenes detract from the main story and find myself grumbling, "okay, can we get back to the plot now?" That never happens with Lisabet Sarai's stories. The erotic scenes aren't just distractions. They incorporate real human emotion and help the reader know more about the characters. Lisabet is the thinking person's erotica author, creating characters and stories that readers become invested in. 

While Incognito is a fantastic story, easily earning five out of five stars, and I fully recommend it for adult audiences, some readers may find the deeply descriptive erotic scenes shocking. I'll let Lisabet take things from here.

Not for the Faint of Heart

I don’t like “reader’s advisories”, especially when they detail every sexual activity included in a novel. Erotica is not about sex acts, but about desire and its fulfillment. 

On the other hand, I don’t want to offend any readers who pick up my new release Incognito without a clear understanding that it contains taboo content. 

I’m willing to admit, some people might be shocked by this book. Both Miranda and Mark are polymorphously perverse characters, attracted to both their own and the opposite sex. They’re natural switches, drawn to roles on both sides of the BDSM power equation. The book includes pretty much every variety of sexual encounter, from incest fantasies to age play to cross-dressing. I’m sure that some readers would dismiss the book as nothing but gratuitous sex. 

That’s not how I see it, though. Incognito is, first and foremost, the story of one woman’s journey to realize and express her sexuality. Miranda’s heart-crushing initiation into sex leaves her emotionally scarred, unable to reconcile the experiences of love and lust. She’s ultimately healed by her relationship with Mark, a man who’s open and accepting of all her desires – even the most extreme.


Buy Links


Kinky Literature: https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/362-incognito-secret-lives-forbidden-loves


Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B1N7CTMQ


Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0B1N7CTMQ


Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/2940165857058


Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1147874


Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/incognito-secret-lives-forbidden-loves


Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61138791-incognito


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-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh