Charity Sunday: K-9s for Warriors

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on the Charity Sunday blogs, the author will donate money to the charity named. We’re all different, so please check each of us out.

This month (February) is slightly different in that the group is keeping last month’s blogs posts available. Both Lisabet Sarai and I have charities, one for wildlife protection and mine for the Shriner’s Hospitals. I also have a new one for this month, K-9s for Warriors that I hope you will check out below.

Thanks for your help and your participation!

The mission for K-9s for Warriors is so worthwhile: “Determined to end Veteran suicide, K9s For Warriors is the leading nonprofit organization that provides trained Service Dogs to military Veterans nationwide suffering from PTSD, traumatic brain injury, and/or military sexual trauma — at no financial cost to the Veteran.” And an even better outcome is that the dog helps save the warrior while the warrior helps save the dog. “Beyond our dedication to serving Veterans, we go the extra mile by rescuing dogs and giving them a second chance and new purpose as life-changing Service Dogs. Our innovative, research-backed program enables both the Veteran and Service Dog to build an unbreakable bond that fosters mutual healing and recovery.” What could be better than providing love and support—and new life energies—on both ends of the leash?

Please comment on my post and I will send a donation to K-9s for Warrior in all of our names. Thank you!

A sailor’s heart is hardened by betrayal. A woman wonders how things went so wrong. Burned bridges can’t be rebuilt. Or…can they?

“I loved it, just loved it! I was going to take it with me on vacation but I started reading and didn’t want to stop. It was addictive.”

Blurb:
Winner! Coffee Pot Book Club awarded Burning Bridges the Gold Medal for Best Romance 2020!

Not your typical “secret baby” book! This Southern romance packs in the emotion.

Letters delivered decades late send shock waves through Sara Richards’s world. Nothing is the same, especially her memories of Paul, a man to whom she’d given her heart years before. Now, sharing her secrets and mending her mistakes of the past means putting her life back together while crossing burning bridges. It will be the hardest thing Sara’s ever done.

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited https://www.amazon.com/Burning-Bridges-Anne-Krist-ebook/dp/B083HN3ZG2/

Excerpt:
Sara calls her mother after receiving a package of letters, decades old

“I thought it would be you. Have you read the letters?”

“No. What happened, do you know?” Scattered on the table, the three packets drew her gaze and she stared as though trying to read their meaning through the sealed paper.

“Only what the Department of Navy letter said. Some bags of mail were lost. I suppose if I weren’t still receiving part of Dad’s retirement, they wouldn’t have found me.”

Sara closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. “I mean, do you know what happened to the rest of the letters?”

“What?” There was no mistaking the naked fear in her mother’s voice.

“The envelopes are numbered. I have twenty-eight through thirty. What do you think happened to the others?” Tension radiated through her shoulders and neck. Her mother was about to say something she didn’t want to hear, she knew it.

“Sara, you have to understand, Dad and I only wanted what was best for you. You were a child, a high school senior with a wonderful future in front of you. You’d been accepted at William and Mary. The last thing you needed was to get mixed up with a sailor who would love you and leave you. Which, I might add, is exactly what he did.”

Sara could barely suck air into her lungs. Her fingers whitened with the hold she had on the phone cord. “What did you do, Mother?”

“More than anything, we didn’t want you hurt.” Moments passed. “Your father made the decision, but I was in favor of it, I want you to know that. He’s not here, so if you’re going to get mad, I suppose it will have to be at me.” She ended with a sigh. “After—that man—left Virginia Beach, we determined it would be best for you to make a clean break. We never had any doubt that he was wrong for you. So, we intercepted the letters.”

The blood drained from Sara’s face and she pulled over a chair. If she didn’t sit she’d fall. “You did what? How could you do that?” Her voice broke.

“You put your letters in the mailbox and I took them out after you left for school. And his…”

All too well, Sara remembered days of rushing into the house to sort through the stack of mail on the hall table, never finding a letter from Paul. Each day with no news added a stone to her wall of doubt that he loved her and depleted her store of faith that he’d stand by her.

Sara moaned. “Do you know what you did with your meddling?”

“Sara, you were seventeen, a child. Do you know what that means? He could have gone to jail. Your father was in favor of going to his commanding officer—even to the police. It was fortunate for your friend that his ship left.”

Sara envisioned her mother sitting alone in her living room. About this time each afternoon, a gin and tonic sat on the table beside her. She’d wear a skirt and blouse and her hair and make-up would be flawless. Sara also didn’t doubt that her mother’s posture was rigid and that her thumb rubbed the tips of her index and middle fingers. Those were indications her mother’s emotions—anger, frustration, fear, whatever—were threatening to override her normal control. Today she deserved every terrible, panicky feeling she was experiencing.

Mary Ellen sighed. “Try to see it from our point of view. You were a good girl with a good future. He destroyed all of that in a matter of weeks. You were our responsibility and we protected you the best way we knew how.”

“Protected me!”

“Yes, protected you. We loved you more than anything on earth.” She quieted, as though considering the next bit. “He died in service to his country. That was at least an honorable thing.”

A sob broke from Sara.

Her mother softened her tone. “I have no doubt he might have been a good man, but not for you, and not at that time. I don’t regret ending the relationship, whatever else happened.”

“I can’t believe you did this. I don’t even know what to say to you.” A headache inched its way forward to throb behind her eyes. She used her free hand to block the light coming through the kitchen windows. “The horrid things I thought about him, the certainty I had that he’d forgotten me…all wrong. I mailed the first letters from school. I wish I’d kept on doing that and asked him to write me at Cindy’s house. Who knows what might have happened?”

“Sara, it’s been so long. I thought you’d be able to understand after all this time, but maybe I was wrong. Put the whole episode with that man behind you, darling. Just throw those letters out. What difference could they possibly make now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Darling? We shouldn’t talk about this over the phone. I can be there in a few minutes and then—”

Sara’s eyes shot open. “No! I may never forgive you for this, Mother. In fact, I’m hanging up before I say something I probably shouldn’t.”

“Sara, let me—”

Sara pressed the end icon and dropped her phone onto the table. Vaulting from the chair, she paced around the kitchen table. Squared stopped eating and turned to watch, his Siamese-blue eyes following her path. In agitation, she picked up the letter from the Navy, glanced unseeing at the words then tossed it back. Stomping to the sink, she poured a glass of water, then drank it all without taking a breath. Finally, she turned and stared at Paul’s envelopes.

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.https://nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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Charity Sunday: Shriners Hospitals for Children

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

This month’s charity is one near and dear to my heart: the Shriners Hospitals for Children. https://www.shrinerschildrens.org/ Charity Navigator has awarded Shriners Hospitals “with its prestigious Four Star Charity award. Such distinction recognizes Shriners Hospitals for Children for its sound fiscal management and commitment to accountability and transparency.”

When I was ten-months-old, a polio epidemic struck Sioux City, Iowa and the surrounding area. Polio was not at all uncommon in the early 1950s, but this epidemic was horrible. I had been walking at nine-months. Then one morning I woke up crying. When Mom came to get me, I couldn’t stand. We have never figured out why I contracted the disease. Lots of public places—like swimming pools—were closed, and I wasn’t going to school or day care yet. Another strange thing is, Mom didn’t get it. No one has ever been able to explain it, but I have my opinion. All things really do happen for a reason. God knew that I would need a strong, loving mother to see me through the recovery I had ahead. He kept Mom well and the Shriners helped keep me well..

The Shriners Hospitals never charge a family for any medical care. When I went into the hospital for surgery, I was generally there for at least a month, usually two or more. During that time, they housed me, fed me, schooled me, entertained me, and provided all medical care, before and after surgery—all for free. Our only responsibility was to get to the hospital and home. I received the very best of care in a safe and clean environment, with the best medical staff, and I will be forever grateful. If not for the Shriners, I might not have been able to walk—or to run, to dance, to drive a truck, to live a life I’ve thoroughly enjoyed and loved.

Please leave a comment and I will make a donation to an organization for which I have lasting gratitude. Thank you!

Do you like adult-styled fairy tales? A little sexy, a little sweet, this tale tells the Cinderella story in a whole new light! The Cinderella Curse.

Not all men are princes—except to the women who love them.

Buy link:

Amazon KU https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08R1YSQ8S/

Blurb:

One evening, in a land far away, a wife spins a story for the amusement of her husband. Like the original tale, this contemporary Cinderella is definitely for those who love romance and a HEA. However, she adds a few touches of the erotic. For her husband, you understand.

In this tale, Charlotte dreams of her prince, James, but learns about beauty and love from her fairy godfather, Cooper. She might not lose a glass slipper, but her heart is in danger of being left behind. Who rules her heart—Cooper or James? One thing for sure, by the time our Charlotte arrives at the ball, she’d sure like to know which man is her real Prince Charming.

Excerpt:

Katherine walked into her daughter’s bedroom with a warm smile for the little girl. “And who do I find here?” she asked. “Is it a rock star, a fashion model or an award-winning actress?”

“Oh, mommy, you know who I am,” the girl said with a giggle. For just a moment Katherine’s breath caught and her heart overflowed with love for this four-year-old person. She and Cole had made this child, had conceived her in love, trust and respect, but it still seemed incomprehensible that she was as beautiful as she was, as sweet and wonderful as she was. Katherine could so clearly see Cole’s eyes and her mouth reflected in their daughter’s face, but there was more there that was a combination of them both, and therefore all Alyssa’s. Katherine had to remind herself that probably all parents felt their children were perfect and wonderful, but with their little Alyssa, she knew it was true beyond any doubt.

“Yes, I know who you are, my little love. You are queen of my heart, princess of my mind, ruler–”

“–of all I hold dear.” Alyssa finished the oft heard phrase in triumph. She had bouncy curls of brown hair that hung down to her chin, gleaming blue eyes and a pert nose. Her mouth was most often formed around a smile.

“You’re getting too smart for me, Munchkin. What story would you like to hear?” Katherine settled her daughter under the covers, and positioned herself at the head of the bed next to Alyssa’s pillow, so that the child could see the pictures in the book and also be in place to fall asleep.

“Cinderella!”

“Okay, Cinderella it is.” Katherine reached for the book from the stack of those on the bedside table and opened it to the first page. “Once upon a–”

“No, mommy. You’ve got to start with the title.”

With a small smile Katherine turned to the title page and started over. “Cinderella.” She flipped back to the story. “Once upon a time…”

Minutes later, long before the clock had struck midnight and the glass slipper had been lost, Alyssa was sleeping. Katherine stood and moved her slightly, so that she was in the center of the bed. She smoothed Alyssa’s hair from her face and kissed her forehead, making sure that her stuffed bunny was firmly secured in her arm and that she was warmly covered. As Katherine turned, she saw Cole leaning against the doorjamb, watching her with a tender expression.

“You know that I think you’re the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth, but when I see you with Alyssa, it’s almost too much. You two are the most important things in my life.” Katherine turned out the bedside lamp and walked into Cole’s arms, stretching into him as he stroked her back and nuzzled her hair.

“As the two of you are to me,” Katherine responded. “Let’s go downstairs.” With Cole’s arm wrapped around her shoulders they made their way to the living room.

Cole had started a fire and the room was warm and softly lighted by the flames; crackling of the burning logs and popping as sap hit the heat of the fire were the only sounds.

Cole poured glasses of wine and they rested, Katherine against his chest in the circle of his arm, Cole leaning against the rounded arm of the sofa. They sat peacefully for several moments, staring into the fire. With his hand over her shoulder, Cole caressed Katherine’s breast; she rested her hand on his leg, with her elbow covering and lightly putting pressure on the bulge in his pants.

“Are you going to tell me a bedtime story now?” asked Cole.

“Would you like one?” He kissed the top of her head and nodded. “Okay, do you like Cinderella, too?”

“Sure. The adult version, however. I didn’t mind the children’s version when I was a child, although I always thought the prince was too much of a sissy. I thought she should find a good warrior to marry.”

“You would, you blood-thirsty man.”

“Now, I think the prince would be looking for a bit more in a wife than simple beauty and strange taste in shoes.” He looked at Katherine’s platform shoes. “Although unusual taste in footwear isn’t always a negative.”

“Thank you,” she said smartly.

He chuckled. “So, make sure that Cindy has all the requisites to be the wife of a prince.”

“And what might that entail, do you think?” Katherine sat up and turned so that she could see her husband.

“Make her like you.”

Reviews:

“The Cinderella Curse was just perfect for hopeless romantics like me. Even if you’re not a hopeless romantic, Charlotte and Cooper’s sweet and emotionally charged banter will definitely warm your heart. I definitely recommend reading this modern day Cinderella… with a twist!”

“I had forgotten how enjoyable it could be to read a fun and easy read with a perfect ending, a happily ever after. Don’t expect though to be the usual read, the story is full of witty and funny repartee and Ms. Knight does know her men. She knows their sense of humor and their foibles, and the banter between good friends that become lovers. There is something so solid and balanced about this couple, her innocence vs. his knowledge, and he is a knight in shining armor. As I finished I smiled …”

A little about me:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Sign up for my newsletter and have access to free reads.

Author links:

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K


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Charity Sunday: Blankets of Hope

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

I recently heard of a fairly new (less than 10 years old) charity that started with two brothers wanting to spread a little kindness in their corner of the world. Weren’t they surprised when their goodness became noticed and their efforts expanded internationally! You never know, do you? Their charity is called Blankets of Hope and every $5 buys one blanket.

In 2016, brothers Nick and Mike Fiorito quit their jobs in Brooklyn. While looking for something more, they started a Go Fund Me page to collect money to buy blankets to distribute to the homeless. Their program attracted the attention of a venture capitalist on the west coast, and their good deed became their jobs and their passion. Since their beginning, the program has expanded to include participation with schools. Taking part teaches the kids about helping those less fortunate and (hopefully) inspires the next generation of givers.

Two things particularly appealed to me about Blankets of Hope. One, 100% of donations go towards success of the program—administration costs are handled separately. Two, Blankets of Hope proves that the efforts of two individuals can make a huge difference in the world. I’ve always believed that if we each made our own corners of the world a better place, soon the whole world would be better. Nick and Mike Fiorito demonstrate this in the very best way. Please comment and I will donate to this worthy cause. Thank you!

One Woman Only Blurb:
As one of a set of triplets, Jonah Goodman has always stood out as the least academic—and the last one to take the world, or commitment, seriously. Thing is, that’s not really who he is. But who can he convince of that? Not his family, who see him as they always have. And maybe not his one love, the sweetheart he left behind in high school but with whom he is now sharing an erotic holiday. Will he get his second chance to prove to Kelly that he is a loving man who wants more than a sensual few days, but a real relationship with the woman he lost once and doesn’t want to lose again? With that chance and Kelly’s love, Jonah knows that a “good man” can become even better.

Teaser:

Jonah perched on the arm of the sofa. As if he felt her gaze, he lifted his head and caught her eye. Then he smiled, a slow, sexy smile that sent her mind whirling with images of his smiling at her like that in bed. Give it up, girl. Been there, done that. Wasn’t much fun.

But he sure had kept in shape, and Lord in heaven, the man was sexy. He’d had years to practice his moves, and surely he was better at sex now than he’d been eighteen years ago. There would be no fumbling now, no pain from its being the first time, no quick release on his part before she even knew what was happening. No pure silk dress to be ruined. Man, she’d loved that dress.

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZYSV5L9

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48705086

Excerpt:
“May I have this dance?”

Kelly turned at the sound of Jonah’s voice behind her. Dinner had ended. All three of the boys had given best man speeches and Eve had even given a very creditable matron of honor speech, considering she had only known Marilyn and Caleb a short time. Lots of toasts had been raised and finally the live band had struck up the music. Caleb led his bride onto the floor for a foxtrot—a dance more than half of the guests had no idea how to do, including her.

Facing Jonah she sighed inwardly at how scrumptious he looked. Sure, his face was pretty much displayed on his brothers’ heads, too, but there was something different about Jonah. His nose was just a little crooked from when Bobby Hendricks had broken it in ninth grade and his eyes held an especially bright sparkle in his eyes when he smiled. Maybe… Well, she didn’t know what caused the difference between Jonah and his brothers. Whatever it was, she had never been fooled by the so-called identical nature of the identical triplets. She’d wanted to be his girl since elementary school. Thought she would be in high school. And then forced every last thought of him from her mind from senior year on.

Until now.

“I don’t know how to foxtrot.”

He shrugged. “Who does except those over fifty?” He glanced at his folks, still alone on the dancefloor, although a few couples were wandering out to join them now. “We can pretend.”

She mentally compared standing on the sidelines alone now that Mama Rio left the party, or being held in Jonah’s arms. Smiling, Kelly held out her hands. “Just don’t step on my toes, Jonah Goodman, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Together they walked onto the dancefloor. He took her right hand in his left and placed his right hand on her waist. Fortunately for them, the music changed to a slow tempo. Kelly laid her head on Jonah’s shoulder, and he tugged her closer as they swayed to the music.

“This is nice,” he murmured.

“Yes it is,” she replied. So very nice. He smelled good. Beneath the light citrus fragrance of his aftershave was a slight whiff of pure man with maybe a twinge of motor oil or something so Jonah it brought tears to her eyes.

He rubbed a path up to her shoulder blades and gave a squeeze. “You fit me perfectly, Kelly.”

“I do?”

“You sure do. I think our hearts can feel each other beat.”

Kelly chuckled. “Smooth talker. Face to face like this our hearts are on opposite sides.”

“Hey! I’m trying to be romantic here.”

She sighed. “Keep on. It’s appreciated.”

“You smell…good.”

She felt his smile. Raising her head she gave him a mock glare. “Watch it with those pregnant pauses, buster.”

He used his hand to press her head back to his shoulder. “You do smell good, though. This isn’t the same perfume you wore in high school. That was—”

“Lilac,” they said at the same time. Once more she raised her head to look at him. “How did you remember that?”

“I remember much more than you might think.” He turned her and moved her closer to the door onto the patio. “Each spring when lilacs are in bloom memories come flooding back. Does that surprise you?”

“More like shocks me,” she said, grinning. And then she laid her head on his shoulder once again, finding she liked it more and more there in his arms. She stepped slightly closer and his arm tightened about her.

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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Free Fall: Escape from Xanadu–New from Lisabet Sarai

Forbidden love lights the darkest reaches of space

Blurb

Welcome to Xanadu. For its elite customers, a space-based paradise of pleasure. For the slaves who work there, hell orbiting Earth. 

Innocent and inexperienced, Mariel Linderman sells herself to Xanadu to rescue her farming family from starvation. Streetwise Rain Delgado accepts assignment as a Pleasure Rep in lieu of a prison sentence for murder. In a world that strictly prohibits same-sex relations, the passion that flares between them brings terrible risks. Their unexpected heart-and-soul connection turns their already precarious existence into a clandestine struggle for survival.

Buy Links

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FVVLV2N4

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0FVVLV2N4

Smashwords:  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1878604

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/free-fall-lisabet-sarai/1148528199

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/free-fall-escape-from-xanadu

Books2Read UBL: https://books2read.com/u/mKeK0E

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/242662867-free-fall

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/free-fall-escape-from-xanadu-by-lisabet-sarai

Teaser:

Forbidden love lights the darkest reaches of space.

Mariel and Rain work as Pleasure Reps on Xanadu, a space-based entertainment complex for Earth’s powerful, decadent elite. In a world that strictly prohibits same-sex relations, the passion that flares between them brings terrible risks. Their unexpected heart-and-soul connection turns their already precarious existence into a clandestine struggle for survival.

FREE FALL: ESCAPE FROM XANADU  Brand new #lesbian #scifi #romance from Lisabet Sarai https://books2read.com/u/mKeK0E

Is This Lesbian Fiction?

In the twenty-five years since I first started publishing, I’ve written a lot of erotica and romance, including many tales of women loving women. But sometimes I wonder what I should call these stories. Am I justified in using the term “lesbian”?

Personally, I’m bisexual, or maybe omni-sexual—not lesbian. I’m attracted to men, women and people in-between. I have lesbian friends, but I’ve little or no experience with lesbian culture, with its types and roles. And while I’ve written characters who are interested exclusively in women, I have others who are nominally straight or even (in the case of the nun in my award-winning tale “The First Stone”) celibate. My stories often focus on women just discovering the appeal of other women, women who have boyfriends or husbands, who might very well continue to have heterosexual interactions even after their initiation into Sapphic passion. If I call these stories “lesbian”, will I be offending women who have appropriated the term to describe a more circumscribed phenomenon?

On the other hand, what’s the alternative? The term “F/F” sounds coy, maybe even exploitative. I’m not writing porn-style “girl-on-girl” scenes to titillate the male imagination (though I would hope that both men and women could enjoy my writing). “Sapphic” has a bit of a pretentious quality that bothers me. “Women loving women” covers the ground, but then what happens when I decide to write a trans character?

I hate cubbyholes and cliques and political correctness. I’d rather just say I write erotica and erotic romance and let my readers discover the genders and interests of the individuals involved. In my first two novels— written before I knew anything about the tyranny of genre—I have M/F, F/F, M/M, M/M/M/F and M/F/F/M scenes. (Have I forgotten anything?) I was writing what turned me on personally, and as I note above, I’m omni-sexual. I really couldn’t have cared less about the labels.

I’m looking for readers who feel the same way.

Excerpt (Explicit, Mariel)

They don’t speak. They can’t speak, with their mouths welded together in a feverish kiss. Rain tastes like that atrocious Martian brandy that’s become so popular. She smells of male sweat and designer aftershave. Mariel doesn’t care. She runs her hands down along Rain’s strong back, feeling the muscles shift under the synthetic smoothness of the other woman’s jumpsuit. Pressing her body against Rain’s, she holds tight as her lover pins her against the wall. Their breasts mash together, the double layer of fabric between them slippery and frustrating.

“Damn it!” Rain lets go long enough to grab Mariel’s zipper and drag it down below the waist. She pushes the one-piece garment off Mariel’s shoulders, then hones in on her throbbing nipple, sucking hard.

Mariel gasps as lightning arcs from her exposed breast to her cunt. Rain rakes her teeth across the sensitive nub of flesh before transferring her mouth to the opposite nipple. At the same time, she forces a hand into the crotch of Mariel’s coverall and slides a firm fingertip over her rigid clit.

The transition from anxiety to desire is instantaneous. After all, they have no time to waste. Mariel grips Rain’s shoulders and humps her fingers, deeply embedded now in Mariel’s slick folds. A climax swells in her depths, gathering power second by second until it launches as a fiery explosion of pleasure. Her knees buckle but Rain holds her tight, one arm around her waist while the other hand still plays in Mariel’s pussy. Those knowing fingers awaken new cataclysms of bliss. Helpless, grateful, Mariel shudders through another fierce release.

About Lisabet Sarai

LISABET SARAI writes in many genres, but F/F fiction is one of her favorites. Her lesbian erotica and romance credits include contributions to Lambda Award winner Where the Girls Are (“Rush Hour”), Ippie-winning Carnal Machines (“Her Own Devices”), Best Lesbian Romance 2012 (“Clean Slate”), Forbidden Fruit: Stories of Unwise Lesbian Desire (“The First Stone”), Best Lesbian Erotica 2015 (“The Late Show”)and Lammy-nominated Coming Together: Girl on Girl (“Sundae, Bloody Sundae”).  She has also published a number of standalone lesbian titles including historical tale By Moonlight and high-spirited paranormal romance The Witches of Gloucester.

Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her explicit literary endeavors. She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her writing. For all the dirt on Lisabet, visit her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).

Social Links

Lisabet’s Fantasy Factory (website): http://www.lisabetsarai.com

Beyond Romance (blog): http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Lisabet-Sarai/e/B001K8PADS

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/LSarai

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Medium: https://medium.com/@lisabet_63394

Mailing list signup:  https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

New from Lisabet Sarai: Her Secret Ingredient

A MF Contemporary erotic romance/romcom with mild bondage

Stir in a pinch to stir up his passion.

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 skeptical about the culinary abilities of a woman from Hong Kong. To make things more difficult, the master chef is also so gorgeous that Emily can’t help being attracted to him.

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 Monsieur 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.

Buy Links

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G6X5D959

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0G6X5D959

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1923881

Barnes and Noble – https://barnesandnoble.com/w/her-secret-ingredient-lisabet-sarai/1118070571

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/her-secret-ingredient-3

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/her-secret-ingredient/id6756538064

Universal Book Link – https://books2read.com/u/mdkrAw

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/245242009-her-secret-ingredient

Add on BookBub – https://www.bookbub.com/books/her-secret-ingredient-by-lisabet-sarai-2025-12-21

Stir in a pinch to stir up his passion. Sample HER SECRET INGREDIENT,

new #Contemporary #EroticRomance by @LisabetSarai

https://books2read.com/u/mdkrAw

Review Quotes

Her Secret Ingredient was a great short story. I loved the unique plot, the realistically drawn characters and the writing style. ~ Lucy Felthouse, Goodreads

I’ve always been a sucker for books set in the kitchen, and even as outlandishly over the top as this one is, it was a lot of fun…lighthearted and silly and sinfully sexy. ~ Steph, The Romance Reviews

In Praise of Nerds

Since I joined the romance authors community, I’ve heard a lot about alpha heroes. Rugged but handsome features, broad shoulders, chiseled pectorals, powerful thighs that naturally invite musings about what lies sheltered between them – attributes like these apparently constitute the romance ideal. Our hero should also be physically strong, courageous, and generally the dominant type, though some sensitivity or a shameful secret will not be taken amiss. It helps, apparently, if the guy is also wealthy, suave and well-dressed.

Well, I don’t completely buy it. I mean, a nice bod and a pretty face are not to be sneezed at. But they’re not enough. Call me perverse, but I find intelligence to be the most essential aspect of a sexy hero. Furthermore, I’m willing to accept less than stellar physical qualities if my hero is a clever, imaginative, horny genius who can figure out how to get his heroine out of sticky situations and who understands what truly turns her on.

So I’ve got a thing for nerds. I was hopelessly in love with Mr. Spock. Near the top of my sexy, romantic movie list is “Earth Girls are Easy”, featuring gangly, geeky Jeff Goldblum as a brilliant alien. It’s fairly easy to understand why I feel this way. Growing up, I was the egghead, the bookworm, the too-smart girl whom everyone made fun of. The only guys who could deal with me were the ones who were at least as smart as I was. They weren’t on the football squad; they weren’t voted Best Looking or Most Popular. But they had that something that could start my motors. It was intoxicating, yes, arousing, to have a conversation with some of these guys, especially when I got out of high school and into college. We understood each other, and I began to discover that despite their definite nerdish qualities, they were enthusiastic and innovative when it came to sex.

Actually, research has shown that in defiance of their public image as socially challenged losers, nerds are more successful than the general population in finding mates, staying with them, and producing children. Of course, that is not necessarily going to endear them to romance readers, but it’s something to consider.

Not all the heroes that I create are nerds, but many have some nerdish qualities. Harry Sanbourne in Her Secret Ingredient is a classic example. He’s fashion-challenged, with unruly, overlong hair. Seriously near-sighted, he wears clunky, dark-framed glasses. He’s easy going and informal, without a sophisticated bone in his body – a body that looks pretty ordinary in his baggy jeans and out-of-shape sweaters.

Once those clothes are off, though, Harry turns out to be an exceptionally talented and considerate lover. And unlike the suave and impeccably groomed master chef (and apparent alpha), Etienne Duvalier, Harry has an intuitive understanding of what Emily needs.

Excerpt (Slightly Spicy):

“Here we are. Try a couple of these and let me know what you think.” I positioned the platter so that the augmented tidbits were within Etienne’s easy reach. He was sitting on one of the stools in front of the counter. His thigh muscles strained against the black leather of his pants. A lock of hair had overcome the gel to settle on his high forehead. His eyes sparkled, ocean-blue in this light. He looked good enough to eat—highly appropriate for a cooking show.

“Thank you. They look exquisite.” He positively oozed charm as he picked up a pastry round with his finger and thumb and placed it upon his tongue. I imagined all the women watching the show, eyes glued to his every sensual move.

“Oh, Mei Lee! These taste even better than they look!” He sipped his wine, then popped another pissaladière into his mouth and chewed with obvious enthusiasm.

“You’ll put the recipe on the channel website, won’t you?” He turned to the camera. “Ah, mes amis, this simple little dish provides a glorious mixture of flavors. And quite a straightforward process, I guarantee. Any one of you can make these in your own kitchen.”

I helped myself to a pissaladière of my own, carefully choosing from the unadulterated side of the tray. They were good—the pastry light and crisp as spun cloud, the topping complex and savory, thyme, garlic and pepper lingering on the tongue long after swallowing. I took a second hors d’oeuvres. Etienne gobbled down two more, licking his long, elegant fingers after each one. The audience must be dying, watching that pink tongue clean away every crumb of pastry, every fragment of olive. I nursed my burgundy and smiled for the camera as he consumed a fifth pissaladière. Low-level lust hummed through me, too, though I’d been careful this time to avoid ingesting any of the aphrodisiac.

He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and drained his wine glass. “Ms. Wong—” he began. A wild light blazed in his face. “I want to ask your pardon—I want—oh, please…” The smooth, urbane voice sounded confused, ravaged by uncertainty. What was going on?

Etienne slipped from the stool to the floor and knelt at my feet. The next thing I knew, he was pressing his lips to the gilt leather of my high-heeled shoes. “Ms. Wong—Mistress Wong—please, let me serve you…”

“Etienne? Monsieur Duvalier? What are you doing?”

He trailed kisses up the inside of my ankle. “I adore you, Mistress.”

“Etienne!” I snatched my foot away in alarm. He gazed up at me, a mix of disappointment and reverence shining in his face. “Stand up. Remember we’re on camera,” I added, sotto voce.

“Yes, yes, but that doesn’t matter now,” he continued in the same crazy vein, though he obeyed my order and rose to his feet. “I am your willing slave. Let me please you, Mistress. Let me suckle your sweet, hard nipples. Raise your skirt and allow me to worship you with my mouth, the way you deserve…”

“Ssh!” I hissed. “Do you want to get us thrown in jail?” I peered through the glare of the lights, trying to signal to someone to stop the transmission. There was no flurry of activity there, however. No one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.

“I don’t care, as long as you are satisfied.” He paused a moment, then unknotted his scarlet cravat and handed it to me. He held out his wrists. “Bind me, Mistress, if you wish. Torture me. I’ll bear any amount of pain for you. Test me—test my devotion.”

He had the same rich voice as before, the same handsome features, the same lithe, muscular body—but this was a different man entirely. I searched his face, yearning for the arrogant, self-involved chef who’d been bossing me around half an hour before.

There was no trace of him. Instead, I had to deal with this—this eager, self-effacing slave boy.

I’d created a monster.  

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, LGBTQ, 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, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Charity Sunday: Homes for Our Troops


I hope everyone in the U.S. had a wonderful Thanksgiving! Welcome to Charity Sunday where authors join together monthly to post about a charity they want to feature and then donate money based on the number of comments. Please check the Linky Links at the end of this post to explore charities by other authors. How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. Thanks for your help and your participation!

This November I’m highlighting Homes for Our Troops https://www.hfotusa.org/ . The mission of Homes for Our Troops is this: “To build and donate specially adapted custom homes nationwide for severely injured post-9/11 Veterans, to enable them to rebuild their lives.”

Even if you’ve had only a broken leg (or hip or arm or had knee surgery) you can appreciate the barriers posed in our homes. If your home has steps, for instance, think of the handicap injured or wounded folks have in getting around. Homes for Our Troops takes into consideration not only steps, but height of a stove or sink, whether a shower is handicap accessible, etc. These can be priceless accommodations for the man or women who wants to be independent. I hope you will take a look at their website and see what all they do.

I’d like to share an excerpt from One Woman Only, a story that takes place where we are now, between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

As one of a set of triplets, Jonah Goodman has always stood out as the least academic—and the last one to take the world, or commitment, seriously. Thing is, that’s not really who he is. But who can he convince of that? Not his family, who see him as they always have. And maybe not his one love, the sweetheart he left behind in high school but with whom he is now sharing an erotic holiday. Will he get his second chance to prove to Kelly that he is a loving man who wants more than a sensual few days, but a real relationship with the woman he lost once and doesn’t want to lose again?

With that chance and Kelly’s love, Jonah knows that a “good man” can become even better.

Buy link:

Kindle Unlimited https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZYSV5L9

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48705086

Excerpt:

He left the car under the cover in front of the door and strode into the lobby. A petite brunette stood at the registration desk. “May I help you?”

“Yes, I’d like a room.”

“For tonight?”

“Yes.” Jonah dug his wallet out of his back pocket and removed his VISA.

“One king or two queens?”

“One king.”

The girl typed furiously and then looked up. “We only have two queen rooms.”

“Then that will do.” He didn’t give a flying fuck how many beds were in the room as long as it had one as a minimum.

Jonah tapped his card on the counter and then walked to the door to look out at Kelly sitting in the car. He wasn’t dreaming. That really was Kelly Shepherd sitting in his car and they really were checking into the Family Inn.

“Just one person?”

Oh yeah. He hadn’t actually checked in yet. “Two.”

“Oh.” What the fuck? Did that sweet young thing just frown in judgement?

“Luggage?”

“No.” There was that frown again. He glanced down at his clothing, looking a little wilted now after the wedding and imagined what it looked like, his checking in with someone, obviously coming from a party of some sort. But again, what the fuck? She worked in a no-tell motel. Lots of people probably checked in here in for a quickie.

That thought shocked him. Kelly Shepherd was no quickie.

Reviews:

“This story truly had me hooked from the first page, and I’m very much enjoying my time with the Goodman brothers!”

“I loved this beautifully written second chance romance.”

“A great read. Five stars!”

Author Bio:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Join our newsletter to access exclusive free reads on the Nomad Authors website!

Author links:

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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Charity Sunday: The Light Foundation

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

I’d like to highlight a foundation I just heard about, the Light Foundation (https://www.mattlight72.com/). Usually, I like to focus on military charities but I also have a soft spot for groups designed to help kids or animals. Building better lives for children is the purpose of the Light Foundation: “Our mission is to take young people out of their everyday environments and provide them with unique opportunities that ignite their passion, purpose, and motivation to succeed.” They do this through leadership programs, camps, and scholarships. The results from their programs—including summer camps, hunting and fishing programs and more—are phenomenal. 88% of summer campers felt more confident to face life challenges, half experienced an outdoor activity for the first time, and 94% said they had a more positive outlook on the future. Remarkable!

This isn’t a huge charity but the good they do is needed in this world. Please comment and I will gladly send a donation. Thanks so much!

Blurb:
Two great historical mystery novellas that will keep you guessing.

In Jan Selbourne’s The Next Stop is Dead, a woman boards a city train one night and finds herself alone in the car with four strangers, all men. When she discovers one of them is dead, she has to find a way to exit the train and get help. Will she escape, or will the next stop be her final one?

In Anne Krist’s Missing, sisters Audra and Daina communicate using “twin language.” But how much difference will that make when Daina disappears? Can Audra find her sister before her abductor ends Daina’s life? Even with the help of an over-protective detective, saving her missing twin might not happen in time.

Buy link (KU):
Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/Evil-Lives-Night-historical-suspense-ebook/dp/B0B5B2VPB6/

Amazon Australia https://www.amazon.com.au/Evil-Lives-Night-historical-suspense-ebook/dp/B0B5B2VPB6/

Excerpt:
From The Next Stop:

Doug looked up in disbelief at the tall, grey-haired inspector. “Well, well, look what the wind blew in. Inspector bloody Parker himself. Couldn’t they find anyone else to work on a Sunday?”

“We meet again,” Parker replied curtly and pointed to the papers on the desk. “Now it’s bodies on trains.” He bent down close to Doug’s face. “Where’d you pick her up?”

“I didn’t pick her up. She was on the train when I got in at Richmond.”

Parker stood up. “And unknown to each other, you said, ‘Let’s pretend we’re in Agatha Christie’s movie Murder on the Orient Express.” He gazed at the ceiling. “Correction, Murder on the Dandenong Express.”

Doug steadied his breathing. “I told the police what Miss McLeod and I saw on that train.”

“It’s a pity you’ve sunk so low to making up stories.”

“Not so low I’d sell my soul for the job, Inspector.” Doug replied softly.

The room was deathly quiet until Parker spoke. “You’ve already been told, and I’ll tell you again. The train was searched and all passengers on the train questioned. The stations searched and railway staff questioned.”

“What’s to stop them opening the door on the other side and dropping onto the railway tracks?” Doug shouted at him.

“We aren’t that stupid,” Parker snapped back. “Saturday afternoon trains run every thirty minutes. The train travelling to the city at that time was stopped at Huntingdale. Passengers waiting for that train on the Oakleigh, Murrumbeena and Carnegie platforms were questioned. No one saw men jumping out of the Dandenong train.” His fingers tapped on the desk. “A bloody debacle. You and Miss McLeod will be charged with willfully wasting police time and resources and disrupting public transport.”

From Missing:

The morning hadn’t even really started and Audra felt fatigue and strain pull at her. The mirror had shown drawn skin in her cheeks, pale instead of their normal rosiness, and dark circles marred her eyes. A headache pounded behind those baggy eyes and the two pots of coffee she’d drunk since three o’clock didn’t help. Once again, she wore Daina’s coat as she ran down the hill to the bus stop on Dace. A transit change and three blocks later, and she sat in the downtown police station, tapping her foot and worrying the watch on her left wrist to see how much time she had to get to work.

“Ma’am?” The woman behind the partition with the glass front called Audra over. “Who was it you wanted to see again?”

“My sister is missing. I need to talk with whomever can help me. Please.”

“Come through the door and I’ll direct you to someone.”

“Thank you,” Audra said. Her voice held a quiver and she steeled herself to get through this process without breaking down.

She stepped through a wooden door to her right and then walked the maze of desks to get to the officer the woman pointed out.

“May I help you?” the officer asked, pointing to a chair beside his desk.

“I need to file a missing person report. It’s my sister. She wasn’t there when I got home last night, and we never go out after dark during the week. I need to find her.”

“Slow down, Miss.” He bent over to search a desk drawer for a form which he rolled into a typewriter sitting on an extension to his desk.

“Now. Name?”

Audra blinked. “My name or my sister’s?”

He barely stifled a sigh, like a man so used to doing his job that he’d lost all patience for those who didn’t understand what to do with his questions.

“The name of the missing person.”

“Daina Katyas. D-A-I-N-A.”

“Age?”

“Twenty-five.”

“When did she go missing?”

“Yesterday some time. As I said, she wasn’t there when I arrived home last ni—”

With that, he swiveled in his chair and held up a hand. “I can’t file a report until she’s been missing longer than half a day.”

“What? But that won’t do. She’s in danger!”

“How do you know this?”

“Her voice held tension when she called to me. I could tell.”

“She called you? After she went missing or before?”

Audra twisted the strap of her pocketbook and slid to the edge of the seat. “I don’t know. I just know.”

Taking a deep breath, she tried hard to calm herself, knowing how crazy that last statement had sounded. “Look, Officer…” She couldn’t focus on his nametag. She couldn’t focus on anything. She took another deep breath and another. Suddenly, her purse fell to the floor and she couldn’t catch air no matter how many deep breaths she grabbed. Pinpoints of blinding light flashed before her. She felt herself slipping from the chair. Gasping, falling into darkness.

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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Charity Sunday: Spring Lake Hope Foundation

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

I just learned of this charity last week and the work they do sounds amazing. I hope you agree!

The mission statement for Spring Lake Hope Foundation: “Spring Lake Hope Foundation pays for the medical and related expenses, not covered by insurance, for children with rare illnesses and special needs.”

As someone who went through long years needing medical care (and for which we never could have afforded if not for Shrine Hospitals), I can understand the families who need this special help. Please comment and I’ll certainly donate!

The Girl with the Brass Balls (it’s a pawn shop–get your mind out of the gutter :). Or maybe not–it’s erotic romance.)

One girl, two guys: one related to organized crime and the other (wouldn’t you know it?) a cop. Far from Evelyn to choose, she wants both…

Blurb:

As family wage earner and pawn shop manager, Evelyn Collins thinks she’s kept a good watch on everything in her corner of the world. That is, until Harve Liddell, son of a local crime family, and Detective Joshua Rosen step up to show her just how much she’s missed.

Evelyn Collins inherits the family pawn shop and thinks things are starting to change for the better. Now, if she could keep her younger brother out of trouble, and handle two surprising suitors, things would be great.

Harve Liddell suffers from the reputation of his family’s involvement in organized crime, but Evvie Collins has always treated him as a friend. Far from friendship, he wants to set her blood afire with passion. When Harve’s ready to move, he finds Detective Joshua Rosen is, too.

For years Josh Rosen has wanted Evelyn in his bed, but stayed away because Jews were second class citizens in Minneapolis. He’s no longer willing to wait. The only thing blocking him is Harve Liddell, and the trouble Josh is sure he’s embroiled Evelyn’s brother in. He must find a way to trap Liddell without causing Evelyn pain before he can claim her.

Buy on Amazon

Excerpt:

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go in and have a drink. Our dinner reservations aren’t for half an hour yet.”

The valet opened her door and extended his hand to help her out. Then Joshua was at her side. He slid his arm around her waist and led her inside.

At a desk near the front door, a man in black tie looked up. “Rosen,” Joshua said. “We have reservations for eight, and we’ll be in the bar.”

“I’ll let you know when your table is ready.”

“Thank you.” Joshua guided her to the right, into a room lighted with candles and low illumination from wall sconces. The only point in the room with decent lighting was behind the bar, where two men busily mixed drinks for the many people seated at the oak bar and tables scattered across the floor. Joshua pointed out an empty booth against the far wall. “If you’ll wait there, I’ll order for us. What will you have?”

Evelyn rarely drank, but this evening’s adventure called for something celebratory. Her dad drank whiskey, but that was too strong for her. “A screwdriver, please.”

He nodded and turned to the bar.

The walls were a mosaic of the cities’ skylines, done in silver against black—sleek but comfortable somehow. A stage and dance floor were at the far end of the room. She didn’t realize Harve offered dancing, too, and live performances. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never come to his restaurant. It was far too pricey for her, but now that she saw the place, she realized that it said a great deal about him. Sleek and modern. Relaxed and comfortable. Efficient yet personalized. So many contrasts all rolled into one establishment, into one man.

She looked around. People were having a good time, laughing, talking. Drinks and cigarettes were in handy supply. She almost wished she smoked so she’d have something to do with her hands. Then Joshua came and slid in beside her. Taking one of her hands and thus ending her dilemma, he rested their hands on her thigh.

“The waitress will be here in a minute with our drinks.” He looked around, too. “What do you think of the place?”

“I like it. It’s relaxed and yet modern. I’m not sure how Harve pulled it off.”

“Yeah, old Harve is a real wunderkind.”

The thick sarcasm threw her for a minute, and then she laughed. “You two are like oil and water. Is there anything you agree on?”

He faced her. His black eyes glittered like polished onyx. She blushed under the intensity of his stare, but she couldn’t turn away. His hand tightened over hers, and he rubbed the backs of his knuckles on her dress, at her thigh.

“I’m pretty sure there’s one thing.”

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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Charity Sunday: Navy SEAL Foundation

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

The Navy SEAL Foundation swim was held just a couple of weeks ago. If you don’t know about it, it feels like an unattainable challenge—yet hundreds of SEALs and others do it every year, to honor our country. “The event starts at the Empty Sky Memorial in Liberty State Park in New Jersey and ends at the World Trade Center in Manhattan, NYC. Participants will enter the Hudson River at Liberty State Park, NJ, and swim to the Statue of Liberty, where they do 100 honor pushups and 22 pull-ups for our nation’s freedoms and civil liberties. Participants then swim from the Statue of Liberty to Ellis Island, where they do 100 honor pushups and 22 pull-ups for our nation’s diversity and all those who came to our nation seeking a better life. Participants then swim across the Hudson River to Battery Park, Manhattan, NYC, where they grab American Flags and run to the World Trade Center in Manhattan, NYC. At the World Trade Center, participants do 100 honor pushups and 22 pull-ups to honor all those who lost their lives on 9/11, Extortion 17, and all Americans who put it on the line for our nation.”

The Navy SEAL Foundation provides for some of our most elite military forces through the Five Pillars: Strength (Building capabilities and reducing stressors), Resilience (Addressing tragedy and aiding recovery), Health (Enhancing physical and mental wellness), Education (Providing scholarships and developmental opportunities), and Community (Empowering connections and preserving legacy). Charity Navigator gives the Navy SEAL Foundation a 4-star rating, with $.94 of every dollar going directly to their funds or is reserved for future missions.

“America remains safe and secure thanks in large part to the Naval Special Warfare (NSW) community. But this is not without significant sacrifice from these warriors and their families. The Navy SEAL Foundation is here to address the unique needs that arise as a result of these sacrifices, with over thirty programs under five Pillars of Support.”

Please comment and I will donate to this very worthy organization!

The Girl with the Brass Balls blurb:

As family wage earner and pawn shop manager, Evelyn Collins thinks she’s kept a good watch on everything in her corner of the world. That is, until Harve Liddell, son of a local crime family, and Detective Joshua Rosen step up to show her just how much she’s missed.

Evelyn Collins inherits the family pawn shop and thinks things are starting to change for the better. Now, if she could keep her younger brother out of trouble, and handle two surprising suitors, things would be great.

Harve Liddell suffers from the reputation of his family’s involvement in organized crime, but Evvie Collins has always treated him as a friend. Far from friendship, he wants to set her blood afire with passion. When Harve’s ready to move, he finds Detective Joshua Rosen is, too.

For years Josh Rosen has wanted Evelyn in his bed, but stayed away because Jews were second class citizens in Minneapolis. He’s no longer willing to wait. The only thing blocking him is Harve Liddell, and the trouble Josh is sure he’s embroiled Evelyn’s brother in. He must find a way to trap Liddell without causing Evelyn pain before he can claim her.

Buy link:
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Unlikely-Bedfellows-Publishing-Menage-Everlasting-ebook/dp/B009HA6D9Q/

Excerpt:
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go in and have a drink. Our dinner reservations aren’t for half an hour yet.”

The valet opened her door and extended his hand to help her out. Then Joshua was at her side. He slid his arm around her waist and led her inside.

At a desk near the front door, a man in black tie looked up. “Rosen,” Joshua said. “We have reservations for eight, and we’ll be in the bar.”

“I’ll let you know when your table is ready.”

“Thank you.” Joshua guided her to the right, into a room lighted with candles and low illumination from wall sconces. The only point in the room with decent lighting was behind the bar, where two men busily mixed drinks for the many people seated at the oak bar and tables scattered across the floor. Joshua pointed out an empty booth against the far wall. “If you’ll wait there, I’ll order for us. What will you have?”

Evelyn rarely drank, but this evening’s adventure called for something celebratory. Her dad drank whiskey, but that was too strong for her. “A screwdriver, please.”

He nodded and turned to the bar.

The walls were a mosaic of the cities’ skylines, done in silver against black—sleek but comfortable somehow. A stage and dance floor were at the far end of the room. She didn’t realize Harve offered dancing, too, and live performances. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never come to his restaurant. It was far too pricey for her, but now that she saw the place, she realized that it said a great deal about him. Sleek and modern. Relaxed and comfortable. Efficient yet personalized. So many contrasts all rolled into one establishment, into one man.

She looked around. People were having a good time, laughing, talking. Drinks and cigarettes were in handy supply. She almost wished she smoked so she’d have something to do with her hands. Then Joshua came and slid in beside her. Taking one of her hands and thus ending her dilemma, he rested their hands on her thigh.

“The waitress will be here in a minute with our drinks.” He looked around, too. “What do you think of the place?”

“I like it. It’s relaxed and yet modern. I’m not sure how Harve pulled it off.”

“Yeah, old Harve is a real wunderkind.”

The thick sarcasm threw her for a minute, and then she laughed. “You two are like oil and water. Is there anything you agree on?”

He faced her. His black eyes glittered like polished onyx. She blushed under the intensity of his stare, but she couldn’t turn away. His hand tightened over hers, and he rubbed the backs of his knuckles on her dress, at her thigh.

“I’m pretty sure there’s one thing.”

“Your drinks, sir.” The waitress bent low, showing off a generous cleavage. To Evelyn’s surprise, Joshua seemed not to notice. He tipped the woman, handed Evelyn her drink, and focused on her once again.

“To many more evenings,” he said.

“I’ll go along with that,” she replied. The vodka burned on the way down, but the orange juice sweetened the sip. Her second taste was smoother, and the third, downright refreshing.

“What happened to that pin you had in the case yesterday?” Joshua asked.

The alcohol spun through her system, made her settle into the soft leather banquette seat and feel warm all over. “What pin?”

“The one in the front display case. The circular one with the stones set into it. It wasn’t there when I stopped by earlier today, and I just wondered if the owner came back for it.”

Evelyn took another sip and then examined her glass. It was nearly empty. How had that happened? She blinked and focused on Joshua. “Circular stones pinned in my display case?”

Joshua smiled and removed her glass. “You don’t drink very often, do you?”

She plopped her elbow on the table and her chin in her palm. “Nope. Maybe if I had a friend to drink with.”

“I’ll be your friend, Evelyn,” Joshua said quietly.

She swiveled her chin in her palm and squinted at him. “I like that, Joshmea.”

He brushed a tendril of hair from the corner of her mouth to behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful, Evelyn.”

She started to giggle. Good God! When had she ever giggled? No one with brass balls giggles. And she giggled again.“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

“Oh, Joshea, I’m just avmerage. You are handsome, though. You and Harve both, just damned handsome.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oops! I said damn.”

Joshua started laughing. “Wow. You’re in trouble. Shall I go and find some soap?” He looked over her shoulder and then nodded at someone. “Our table’s ready. Are you able to walk, Evelyn?”

She sat up straight and waved her hand. “Oh sure. I learned how to walk a long time ago.” He laughed again. What had she said that was so funny?

She scooted to the edge of the banquette, but somehow her legs didn’t obey the command to stand. Joshua held out his hand, the sweetheart, and she grabbed hold. Rising to her feet, she wobbled in her heels for a second or two and then steadied herself. How far was it to their table? She’d stay on her feet if it killed her. With great confidence, she stepped off.

And fell flat on her ass.

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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Charity Sunday: Mighty Oaks

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

This month I’m helping support Mighty Oaks (https://www.mightyoaksprograms.org/). The mission of Mighty Oaks is: “…serving military & first responder communities who have endured hardship around the globe through intensive peer-based discipleship Programs, outpost meetings, speaking, and resiliency events. We have Programs for Men, Women, and Married Couples at multiple locations nationwide and globally. Those who attend our Programs are fully sponsored, to include meals, lodging and travel, ensuring their sole focus is on recovery and empowering them to identify their purpose as they move forward.”

One of the things that impressed me about this program is that each of the various programs are designed to help veterans and first responders to overcome difficulties that come from intense service and deployments and to reach the life of purpose each attendee is intended to live. And attendees are charged nothing. Having grown up in a military family—even one where the service member was not engaged in war—I know the stresses that can be placed on a family when one parent is away for long periods of time and then are expected to slide back into “normal” life seamlessly. Add to it, conflicts or intense duty, and the stressors are exponentially increased. Mighty Oaks serves a great need. Please leave a comment and help me contribute to this very worthwhile cause!

Finding a Christmas Miracle by Jan Selbourne and Anne Krist

Just like Hallmark, celebrate Christmas in July. After all, miracles aren’t limited to December, they happen at any time.

Blurb:
Two exceptional novellas featuring men engulfed in a war no one understands or wants—Vietnam. They’re both hoping for a miracle but have little expectation of finding it.

Jan Selbourne lends her award-winning writing talent to A Miracle in the Outback. Nick Saunders is in a hurry to escape a family argument and also to return to his Army base in Wagga Wagga. He doesn’t need another complication. Rachel Garth is a woman with a broken down car, a small girl, a deadly snake, and a baby on the way. She needs Nick’s help. He doesn’t know it, but he needs hers, too.

In award-winning author Anne Krist’s The Miracle of Coming Home, Army PFC Tom Stabler wins a trip to his parents’ Nebraska farm for Christmas. He needs the time away from the war. Lately, he’s been feeling lost and too alone. Trouble is, being home is almost as bad. Then Susan Swensen arrives, just as sweet and pretty as he remembers. Can Susan help him find himself again, or will it take a miracle?

Buy link:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Finding-Christmas-Miracle-historical-novellas-ebook/dp/B09MR8PKYT/

Excerpt:
With a jerk and cry, PFC Tom Stabler bolted upright, his heart pounding at an alarming rate. The dream of the woman receded, and his eyes shot open, unseeing at first. His arm darted out, reaching for the rifle that was always beside him like an extension of his right arm.

The weapon wasn’t there! In sudden panic, he snapped his head to the side, hoping to find with sight what he couldn’t with touch.

Then it came to him.

“Home,” he whispered. He was safe. Not in a steamy jungle surrounded by the smell of rotting vegetation, or wading through muddy river shallows filled with who-knew-what slithering things, or straining for the welcome sound of helicopters, or…

He’d been in so many God-awful situations these past eight months he could take his pick of a different terror every night for weeks. But he didn’t want to. For this week, these days at home, he wanted to put Nam behind him. Why, then, couldn’t he rid himself of the tension coiled like a snake in his belly?

Tom scrubbed his hands across his face, willing his breathing to slow and his heart to return to a normal beat. He picked up his watch. Two o’clock.

When he’d said an awkward goodnight to his father and made his way to bed, the clock in the hall was chiming midnight. He’d draped his clothes over his desk chair, stripped off his skivvies, and climbed into bed.

Unbelievably, he’d pulled up the quilt his grandmother had made for him, snuggled into the softness of the mattress, and drifted off to sleep as though he’d never left the safety and security of his room.

Awake now, he wondered if he’d ever adjust to the feeling of safety again, ever truly believe it existed. He feared he’d always be peering into shadows for the hidden enemy or listening for the almost silent, deadly snick of a landmine trip.

Falling back on the pillow, he stared at the posters on the opposite wall, illuminated by weak moonlight shining through the window. One was for a rock concert held in Omaha four years ago. He’d wanted to take Susan Swensen, but her father wouldn’t let her go the hundred-plus miles into the city with him. Too far, he’d said in his thick Scandinavian accent. Too much can go wrong with a car. Young people can get stranded. Alone.

The last was said with a long, thoughtful stare right into Tom’s soul. How had the man known of Tom’s evil intentions to fake a car breakdown in order to make time with his daughter? Eventually, when she was accepted into nursing school, Mr. Swensen had let Susan go to Omaha. By then, Tom had gone much farther. All the way to Hell, in fact.

The other poster hailed the Fighting Hawks, his high school football team, on which he’d been the star linebacker. Those were heady days. He’d made a great linebacker at the university, too, but a lousy scholar, which was what put him on academic probation and placed his ass squarely in the middle of that worthless strip of land called Vietnam.

Now he wouldn’t even make a linebacker. He skimmed his hand down his chest and across his stomach. Lean—skinny almost. Where once had been bulk there was sinewy muscle. He could still run, though. Oh, yeah, he got lots of practice running. From firing position to firing position, from cover to transport helicopters—black birds hovering over open kill zones to lift guys out of danger or drop them in—and from helicopter back to cover. Some days it seemed he ran the whole damn time.

It felt that way now. But what the hell was he running from?

Tom sighed. There was no going back to sleep. Throwing off the covers, he roused himself from the warmth and sat up, looking at the four walls and feeling dislocated.

This room held the bed where he’d slept since he was six. Today, Christmas Eve, he turned twenty-one. After all those years, the bed should be familiar, and it was. The bed and the room. Both fit, both were comfortable. But Tom no longer was.

It was the same with the house. When he arrived early yesterday morning, he’d sensed something was off but hadn’t been able to put his finger on the problem. Now he knew. Somehow, while he was gone, things had changed, and no one had told him.

His bedroom, the kitchen where he’d watched his mom bake cookies, the living room where he’d beaten his dad at chess for the first time, all felt cramped and alien, as though he’d read about them but hadn’t lived in them. Even his family was all wrong. Gray threaded his mom’s hair, and his dad moved slower. As for his granddad, he was a frail replica of his previous self, with a wrinkled face and almost translucent skin. The loss of grandma had taken him hard. He’d greeted Tom with a smile and firm hug but Tom hardly knew what to say to him.

This life, these people, belonged to a Tom Stabler who no longer existed. The man he was now would have to adjust his thinking to live here again, and learning how would sure as hell take more than one week.

Loneliness clawed at his insides. Here, in the one place he should have felt a part of things, solitude engulfed him. It would have been better to stay in Nam than be here with everything wrong, no longer a part of his home, his family.

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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