Brazen: New Boxed Set from Lisabet Sarai!

Romantic Erotica Boxed Set – Five Flames

Amazon exclusive, free on KU

Three women. Three worlds. Three erotic journeys where each salacious adventure reveals new dimensions of desire.
Incognito: By day, Miranda Cahill works diligently on her doctoral thesis. At night, she has sex with strangers—until one man strips away her mask.

Rajasthani Moon: Voluptuous spy Cecily Harrowsmith has never failed to complete an assignment. Now, imprisoned by the perverse brothers who control rebellious Rajasthan, she risks betrayal by both her body and her heart.

Raw Silk: In the exotic City of Angels, software engineer Kate O’Neill becomes intimately involved with two very different men—a handsome and debauched member of the Thai aristocracy, and the charismatic, dominant proprietor of a sex bar.
This boxed set collects three of Lisabet Sarai’s boldest and most arousing romance novels in a single, outrageous package.

Raw. Sensual. Explicit

Buy Links

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HBNC7M63

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0HBNC7M63

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0HBNC7M63

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/255943751-brazen

Add on Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/brazen-by-lisabet-sarai

Free on Kindle Unlimited. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HBNC7M63

Adult Excerpt: Rajasthani Moon

The brigand’s headquarters turned out to be a cave hollowed from the side of a mountain. After tethering his horse to a stunted tree near the entrance, he slung Cecily over his shoulder like a sack of flour and carried her inside. His casual handling of her body both inflamed and enraged her, but she remained quiet, observing her surroundings with care in the hope of discerning some means of escape.

The interior was less dirty and claustrophobic than she had feared. An uneven ceiling arched over their heads, reinforced by pillars fashioned from whole tree trunks. Oil lamps tucked into niches hewn into the walls dispelled most of the shadows. A wooden table, two chairs and a bedstead, all of rustic construction, constituted the only furnishings. However, to her left, on a natural rock shelf, she was surprised to see a sleek, modern com unit. Its low hum mingled with a faint gurgle of running water, coming from somewhere deeper in the cave. In the shadows she noticed a cage fashioned of iron bars, of the sort she’d seen used to transport sheep and goats. Does he keep animals here? she wondered. There was no barnyard scent.

He dumped her without ceremony onto the straw-filled mattress, then unsheathed his knife. Before she could even cry out, he had sliced her filthy, rumpled clothing off her body, pulled the fabric from underneath her, and tossed the bright rags into a corner. He also relieved her of the knife strapped to her arm and her other earring.

He paused to ogle her nakedness, the dark eyes above his mask burning with lust. Cecily’s nipples peaked and her cunny moistened in response to his brazen inspection—she couldn’t help herself—and she was uncomfortably certain that her reactions were not lost on him.

Using her bound arms, she managed to manoeuvre herself into a sitting position, with her bound legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He watched, neither assisting nor hindering her, clearly amused by her awkward progress. Refusing to be cowed, she answered his bold stare with one of her own.

He was the one to break the silence. “So, my lady. Tell me now. Whom do I have the honour of entertaining here in my humble abode?”

“Why should I reveal my identity to someone who will not even show me his face?” Cecily stalled for time, trying to work out a plan.

“A reasonable point. Pardon me.” The man untied the cloth that hid his features, revealing a beak of a nose, black whiskers and lips that curled in a sardonic smile.

“You!”Cecily cursed inwardly as soon as the word escaped.

“You know me, woman?” His eyes narrowed and his brows drew together into a scowl.

“I–I have seen your picture, sir—in the Bombay newspapers…”

What was the Rajah’s brother doing, hiding away in a miserable hole like this? Why didn’t he have any servants or retainers? Why had he attacked her carriage? These questions and a dozen more assailed her. Meanwhile, she struggled to offer a coherent excuse.

“My brother recommended that I should contact you, Your Excellency, when I arrived in Jaipur… He wishes to establish relationships with your weavers, to purchase your justifiably renowned textiles, but owing to his failing health, he sent me in his stead…”

“Nonsense!” His voice was like thunder. “Do not insult my intelligence! You’re no merchant, madam! Who are you really? Or do I have to beat the truth out of you?”

Cecily kept her mouth closed. Like all Her Majesty’s agents, she’d been trained not to break under torture. Thus far, that training had never been put to the test.

Pratan seized her by her long hair and hauled her to her feet. Of course, with her ankles bound, she could not walk. Half pulling, half carrying, he bundled her over to the closest pillar, jerked her bound arms up, then pushed her face first against the rough wood. The bark abraded her naked breasts and belly. She tried to squirm away from him, but he leaned his weight against her back while keeping her wrists pinned against the pillar above her head.

“Rebind,” he growled. In a flash the robotic rope unravelled and reconfigured itself, looping tight around both her arms and the column supporting her. Once he was certain she was secure, he dropped to his knees and touched the rope at her ankles. “Unbind.”

Cecily stumbled as the force connecting her ankles disappeared. Her relief at being free was short-lived. Pratan dragged her legs apart and inserted some sort of rigid bar between her shins. “Bind.” Before she could take two breaths, her legs were restrained in a permanently spread position, wide enough to allow her captor easy access to her sex.

Indeed, realising the degree of her exposure made her terribly aware of her quim, which she could not deny was soaked and swollen. You must be strong, she told herself. Think of England.

The cool air of the cave teased her bared flesh. Then a light touch, delicate as a feather, traced its way along the inside of her thigh. Her pussy clenched and moisture dribbled out. The impudent finger smeared the juice across her sensitive skin. Pleasure sparked through her. “You can’t fight me.” His voice was like warm honey now, all the anger gone. It flowed through her, unbearably sweet. “And I don’t think you want to. There’s no shame in surrendering when you’ve been rendered completely helpless.”

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, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more.

Lisabet lives in Southeast Asia with her husband of over forty years and several rescue cats, where she pursues an occupation completely unrelated to her literary endeavors.

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, Twitter. AND now BlueSky!  Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.lisabetsarai.com

Blog: https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com

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

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

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

Twitter/X: https://www.twitter.com/lisabetsarai (@lisabetsarai)

BlueSky: https://bsky.app/profile/lisabetsarai.bsky.social

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

Charity Sunday: Future Founders

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!

Future Founders

While watching the news this past week I learned a bit about a group that was new to me: Future Founders. The feature had three young people (by “young” I mean seniors in high school. When I think of the things I was doing as a senior… Well, let’s just say I wasn’t starting any businesses!) who had an idea and developed it. They found that by the time kids today were taught about finances and business they’d already missed so many opportunities to expand their futures. So, they started Future Founders. ”Future Founders is building the nation’s largest inclusive community of intentional young entrepreneurs and entrepreneurial-minded leaders. To us, “entrepreneur” isn’t a job title. It’s a mindset. One that allows you to take control of your future and pursue what matters most to you. To be an entrepreneur is to be a leader. To raise your hand. To solve the problem. To take the initiative. And when done correctly, to leave the world a little bit better than you found it.” Big goals but they seem to be achieving them.

As a former teacher, I’ve moaned, complained, and screamed over our educational system these days. Kids should be taught less about being an activist and more about how to read, write, and become a contributing member of our society and culture. If things don’t change, I shudder to think where we’ll be in ten years. Future Founders is a bright light in a dark tunnel. Thank you for commenting. I’ll be sending a donation for each one.

Speaking of goals for the future, here are two novellas about just that! Your Desire

Your Desire by Dee S. Knight

Blurb:
Your Desire. A mysterious shop appears in town for one reason: to bring the spice of passion and the thrill of love to one special person. Magic is in more than the item purchased—it’s in the heart of the buyer, often hidden, usually surprising. And after enchantment takes hold and the fantasy is fulfilled? The store fades from sight and memory, only to reappear somewhere else. Maybe in your town…?

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited eBook: https://www.amazon.com/Your-Desire-Dee-S-Knight-ebook/dp/B085HFRSQ9

Print: https://www.amazon.com/Your-Desire-Dee-S-Knight/dp/1734761016

Excerpt:
Your Desire. The name was painted on the door in simple block print. She pulled the handle and stepped into the cramped store, where she came face to face with an older, prim man in a well-worn suit. Gray touched his temples but not his thin moustache. His dark brown eyes warmed her to her core, and she felt immediate trust in him.

The shop didn’t inspire such trust, however. It was on the shabby side of shabby-chic, and like the man’s suit, had seen better days. That explained why she hadn’t noticed the place before—it wasn’t the sort of establishment in which she usually shopped.

“May I help you?” the man asked.

She turned toward the window display. What the hell! The effect remained the same. The satin seemed to change shades of purple depending on her position. One way she noticed the beads, another she saw the pearls. Now she saw barely visible lines of sequins between folds of the skirt. Although there was no breeze, the skirt seemed to shift, and tiny shards of light shot from the sequins otherwise hidden in the yards of material.

“Yes, that dress in the window, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It is unique, part of our special collection.” He sounded proud. “May we make one like it for you?”

“Make one?” She stepped forward and reached out. The touch of her fingers caused swirls of violet to run through the fabric from waist to hem, and she gasped as she jerked her hand away. “No, I need the dress for tomorrow night.” Curious, she faced the man. “I can’t believe you made this. It’s wonderful!”

He closed his eyes and graciously nodded his acknowledgement.

The mannequin in the window drew her attention again. She’d never owned anything so soft and feminine. Suddenly her black pantsuits seemed totally unsuitable for the office party, dull and lifeless, even when she imagined them paired with a bright scarf or lacy camisole.

“How much for this dress?” Damn! She’d failed to keep intense interest from her voice. If she were the salesperson, she’d immediately jack up the price.

“Oh, you don’t want that. It’s only for display and very old. I can’t guarantee your satisfaction.”

Slowly Derica turned to the man, her mind turning over possibilities of why he wouldn’t want to take advantage of a sale. Did he think to haggle and increase the price, now that she’d shown her excitement? Well, if that was his game, she could play, too.

“Perhaps you’re right. I have a formal affair tomorrow night. Do you have anything else?” Casting a glance at the drab interior, she carefully kept her expression neutral. “I’m a size eight,” she offered, seeing him give her an appraising look.

He nodded. “That’s exactly what I would have said. If you’ll follow me, I think we have just what you’re looking for.”

They walked to the back of the store and through a curtained doorway. There she found a softly lighted alcove with two stuffed chairs on either side of a dark-stained piecrust table. A cup of steaming tea and a plate of shortbread were on a tray. She examined the room in amazement, not having expected a showroom. In fact, she’d barely expected curtains on the dressing rooms, based on the appearance of the shop.

“Just make yourself comfortable, and we’ll see what we have, shall we?” He waved her into one of the chairs then turned toward another, smaller doorway to her side. “Edwina, we’re ready.”

A young woman dramatically swept aside the material covering the entryway and emerged wearing a pink chiffon formal with a fitted bodice and long sleeves. What caught Derica’s attention however, was the woman’s shape. She could have been Derica’s body double with her long legs, narrow, rounded hips, and tiny waist. The woman’s breasts would have nicely filled out Derica’s own B-cup bra. The difference came in her beautiful violet eyes and heart shaped, Kewpie doll lips, painted bright red.

And also in her short spiked hair that was a most interesting shade of yellow. Derica was so taken with their similarities in shape, it didn’t occur to her to wonder why the woman was poised and ready to model formal gowns.

“This is my granddaughter, Edwina.” The man beamed at Edwina then turned his warm smile on Derica. “And I’m Nigel Brown.”

“I’m Derica Meadows. That’s a lovely gown, Mr. Brown,” she said, as the woman twirled to show off the flow of the skirt. “But it looks like something for a prom.”

His smile fell ever so slightly. “Oh, dear. Well, Edwina…” He shooed her behind the curtain.

After what felt like only seconds, Edwina came out again, wearing a lime green skirt and white ruffled blouse.

“No, that’s not right at all. I need something for a company dinner, and I want a gown that will knock everyone back on their heels.”

She’d barely taken a sip of tea before Edwina left and came back, this time in a sleek black sheath that displayed too much leg on one end and far too much cleavage on the other. Derica cringed then smiled, thinking of the reactions of The Wives if she wore this dress to the party. But a sexy little number wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted mystery underlying a thoroughly feminine sophistication.

She wanted the dress in the window.

Nigel looked at Edwina and opened his mouth to say something—probably to tell her to try something else—but Derica stopped him. “Mr. Brown, let me speak frankly. You’ve shown me lovely dresses but the only thing I’ve seen that interests me is the dress in the window. If you’re not prepared to let me buy it…?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Then I’m afraid I have no business here. So, will you entertain a purchase, or not?”

Pursing his lips and tapping his mouth with his forefinger, Nigel stood silent. Edwina disappeared behind the curtain and then moments later passed through the showroom and into the shop, dressed in heeled, dark brown leather boots, a mid-calf length brown suede skirt and high-necked white blouse. How does she do that? But Derica didn’t have time to ponder the question further.

“Would you be willing to pay two hundred dollars as a deposit? As I mentioned, it is one of a kind and I’d hate to lose the only pattern I have.” Nigel spoke without a trace of indecisiveness. Derica admired a person who took the bull by the horns once they’d made a decision.

“Two hundred dollars as a deposit? That amount won’t give me ownership?” Two hundred was a steal to buy the thing, but to rent it? He was a canny businessman after all.

“Let’s call it a lease. If you return it undamaged by the end of the month, and you’ve been satisfied with the results, your money will be refunded.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’ve never heard of any store doing this kind of thing.”

He waved his hand. “We’re not like any other store you’ve frequented, Ms. Meadows. Can’t you tell that?”

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: The Freedom 13

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!

On this anniversary of the ambush at Abbey Gate, Kabul, Afghanistan I’d like to honor the fallen on that fateful day (August 26, 2021), other military veterans and their families, and first responders by making a donation to The Freedom 13. This group was founded by the family of 20-year-old LCPL Jared Schmitz in memory of him and his comrades. The mission of The Freedom 13 is: “…to build Veteran & Law Enforcement Healing Camps on 100+ acres of land in all 50 states to help US military veterans, police officers and Gold Star Families rediscover themselves and to support the physical and mental well-being of these special groups of people.” Each camp is intended to have 13 homes operated like Airbnb units for families to come together—or spend time to themselves—to heal and decompress. The first camp, in Missouri, is in progress. There’s a stocked lake, trails for riding and more. In addition, “resources will be made available to those that need help with PTSD, suicide prevention, anxiety, depression and service dogs etc.”

Such ambition with the best of intentions! Please comment and I’m happy to make a donation to this worthwhile cause. Thank you!

Blurb:
DAT agent Susan McAllister escapes Earth with killers in hot pursuit. She normally runs toward danger not away, and she likes controlling her own fate, not relying on three strange men and an irreverent cyberbot. Skilled and experienced, she doesn’t believe there’s any way the three crewmen of the cargo ship Erik’s Pryde can help her.

Captain John Erik thinks the sexy, headstrong passenger is nothing but trouble, but he also knows she needs help. And not being men to shrink from adventure, he’s convinced that he and his crew are the ones to provide it. When they’re infected by an illegal drug that releases inhibitions, the crew of the Pryde shows they are men who not only can fight, but can satisfy a woman’s every fantasy.

It’s no surprise when Susan discovers that being a member of the Pryde’s crew has unexpected, lasting benefits.

Buy link:
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Bride-Pryde-Siren-Publishing-Menage-ebook/dp/B007NIR4HO/

Barnes and Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/bride-of-the-pryde-dee-s-knight/1109689352

Excerpt:
Only Charlie’s quick reflexes saved her from falling flat on her face. And what a pretty face it is, too.

In fact, all of her was pretty—more than pretty. She was hot, which might be enough to mitigate the captain’s anger at the delay. Still, in the shipping business, time is money, and this beauty’s case of premarital nerves had already cost a bundle.

Holding her case in one hand and her elbow with the other, he ushered her down a short, covered walkway to another flight of steps. “I told you to watch your step,” he chided, “but you were busy watching that guy who was coming down the concourse. Is he the reason you were nervous about leaving?”

“Um…yeah. He–he thinks he has a claim on me.”

“But he doesn’t?” Charlie might as well get all the dirt right now. The captain was pissed enough without finding out later that trouble followed their passenger.

“He absolutely doesn’t,” she said. She sounded pretty damn sure.

They exited the shuttleway at the bottom of the stairs and walked to a small hover craft. She squirmed a little, as though uncomfortable.

“I maybe should mention, I have a weapon with me. Did I need to do something with it?”

A nervous woman and a gun. Bad combination. Damn. This’ll be one interesting flight. “The captain will want to secure it during the flight.”

She seemed to consider that fact. “All right,” she said after a hesitation.

Charlie stowed her bags and helped her aboard the craft. “I’m Charlie Sheridan, by the way.”

She didn’t acknowledge the introduction. “I’m the last passenger to board, right? I mean, once the doors close that’s it, we’re ready to go?”

That was an interesting question. Whether because of nerves or whatever, Danessa Vanessa was acting strangely.

He got them underway before saying, “Danessa, you’re the only passenger.”

“What?”

Charlie took a moment to study her. Her face was small and delicate, highlighted by large, liquid-brown eyes. Under a blonde wig, which had pulled up in back when she stumbled, she’d stuffed shiny, dark-brown hair. Her luscious mouth had full, soft-looking lips that begged to be kissed.

He would fantasize about that—and probably more, considering those tits, practically spilling out of that tight top, narrow waist, and legs that kept going and going. One kiss would set him on fire. He wouldn’t want to stop at a fantasy. And with flaring hips just made to hold onto when she rode his cock, who’d blame him?

She’s on her way to get married, you slug.

He concentrated on business, forcing his thoughts along other paths. “Intergalactic Brides did tell you that our ship is a freighter, right? It’s just you and our crew.”

“Criminy,” she whispered.

“I assure you, we’ll respect your privacy,” he said quickly. He pressed a button on his COMM unit.

“Erik here.” The captain said only two words, but any member of his crew recognized the tightly controlled tension in his voice. The half-hour delay had been hell for a man to whom punctuality was sacred.

“We’re on our way out now,” Charlie said.

“About damn time,” Erik replied.

“Captain, she’s carrying a weapon, a pistol I believe. I haven’t seen it.”

“When you come aboard stow it in the weapons locker. Stow the rest of her bags in her cabin and show her to the bridge.”

“Right. Out,” Charlie said.

“Who was that?”

“The captain, John Erik. He prefers to be called Erik,” Charlie said playfully, echoing her words.

“People shouldn’t be allowed to have interchangeable names.”

“As opposed to rhyming names, huh?” He added a smile to show he was teasing. The woman still had her weapon, after all.

“He sounded a bit testy.”

Charlie didn’t answer. He’d worked with John Erik for the past eight years, ever since gaining his pilot’s pin, and the man never stopped at testy. He was either a hundred percent with you or a hundred twenty percent pissed.

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: Mercy Chefs

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!

For the past few weeks, I’ve received text from Gary regarding the recent extreme earthquakes in Venezuela. He and the Mercy Chefs crews are down there working right now, and I’d like to help. Please comment on this blog post and I will donate to Mercy Chefs. “Mercy Chefs was founded as a disaster relief organization—this remains our primary focus.

Beyond natural disasters and emergencies, we recognize a responsibility to utilize our equipment, resources, skills, and volunteers to meet pressing needs in communities year-round. When we’re not serving on the frontlines of a crisis, our team is actively engaged in other service initiatives.”

If you would like to help too, I’m told a small donation can feed many people. Check out their website to see what you might be able to do. Thanks!!

Blurb:

Sister Margaret Mary comes home after her mother’s death, never expecting to find a hidden past. Nor does she suspect that once outside convent walls, ingrained habits would drop like petals from a flower. Anyone who’s known a girl away from home for the first time, out from under the strict gaze of her parents, understands her need to fly, to experience all life has to offer. But new desires—especially for her attorney, Jordan Parnell, and his friend, Mark Collins—are alien to the nun. She prays for a week of freedom, a week of feeling like a real woman.

Jordan is captivated by Catherine Jacobsen’s allure before he knows it. Then what? He may call her Catherine instead of Sister, but she’s still a nun. Just when he believes that he and his best friend Mark can convince Catherine to forsake the convent, a terrible secret puts their future in doubt.

Buy link:
Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/Seducing-Unlikely-Bedfellows-Publishing-Everlasting-ebook/dp/B0099QF8OY/

Barnes & Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/seducing-their-nun-unlikely-bedfellows-1-jenna-stewart/1113075359

Excerpt:
Quickly taking her place in the pew, she barely had time to say a decade of the rosary before Father Samuels began Mass. The hour flew by before she knew it, and then she was at the door.

“Sister Margaret Mary, your habit looks as though you slept in it.”

She dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, Father. I will launder it today and take an iron to it.” She glanced into the parking lot. There was no Brendan Tipton, but no Jordan, either. Disappointment made her heart stutter. Well, she would rather walk than ride with Tipton again, but she would rather spend a few extra minutes with Jordan than walk.

“Tipton get you home all right yesterday?”

“Yes, Father.”

“I don’t like that he is showing an interest in you. You must make him stop.”

She must make him stop? She wanted to ask how Father Samuels proposed she do that, but she stopped herself in time from saying it. Then she’d have to confess disrespect to a priest. Her transgressions were building by the hour. “Yes, Father, although I’m not sure how.”

“The same way Eve should have dispersed the devil in the Garden. Tell him with firmness to leave you alone. The woman must always set the ground rules, Sister.”

What did he mean by that? Did he think she had any experience dealing with men? “Yes, Father.”

“There’s Jordan Parnell. I wonder why he’s here.”

A leap of joy replaced the earlier disappointment, and she jerked her head up to see for herself. Just as Father said, Jordan was striding toward them, his eyes on her. He smiled when he saw she noticed him, and there was no way she could keep from smiling back.

“Hello, Father Samuels,” Jordan said, holding out his hand.

“It’s good to see you, my boy,” the priest responded. “I’m sorry about your father. He’s sorely missed.”

Father Samuels had said nothing about her mother being missed or even acknowledging her death. For the first time, Margaret Mary had some inkling of what life must have been like for her mother, a disgraced woman kept by the town’s richest citizen, if his cars and actions said anything about Tipton.

“Thank you, sir.”

“What are your plans now that you’re home?”

Jordan cast a sideways glance at Margaret Mary and said, “Right now, my plans are to take Sister Margaret Mary home. I’m helping her with the inventory of her mother’s house.”

“That’s right. Tipton said so yesterday. I’m happy you came to get her rather than that—” He looked as though he wanted to say more. “Considering his relationship with her mother, it’s unseemly for him to show so much interest in her, too.”

“I don’t think we need to talk about that here or now, Father.”

Margaret Mary’s surprise at Jordan’s sharp tone focused her attention on him. The set of his jaw and the blaze of fire in his blue eyes were all for the priest. In her experience, no one spoke to a priest like that, but Jordan appeared unfazed. He seemed fearless.

“Shall we go, Sister?” He held out his hand, and without thinking, she took it. If Father Samuels thought anything of it, he didn’t make a sound.

Jordan led her to the car and opened the door on the passenger side. Minutes later, they were on the road, windows down and wind blowing wildly on her face.

“Do you listen to the radio at the convent?” Jordan asked over the sound of the wind.

“We used to listen to Bishop Sheen. Now Mother Superior hears the news and tells us at dinner each night if anything worth knowing happened during the day.”

“Would you like to listen to some music?”

“If you would.”

He turned a dial, and suddenly a man’s voice filled the auto with a cheerful song. “Dean Martin,” Jordan said. At the proper point in the song, right along with the singer, he belted out, “That’s amore!” Then he held out his finger as though keeping time and queued her to join in with the words at the next verse. By the time they pulled into the yard, she was laughing more than singing.

Jordan stopped the car and brought silence when he turned off the ignition. “I love the sound of your laughter. I was beginning to fear that nuns never smiled.”

“Oh.” As quickly as her laughter started, it faded away. “We spend a lot of time in prayer, and that’s very serious.”

“Isn’t there time for fun?”

She had to think. When had she last done anything she termed fun? “Teaching is sometimes fun. The girls say outlandish things that make the teachers smile. But I don’t teach. I help keep up the priests’ clothing and the altar cloths. I am part of the contemplative order.”

He stared at her in such a way that she felt uncomfortable. “Don’t pity me. I love prayer.” Then why have you missed doing it so much in the last couple of days? She couldn’t help but think she was trying to fool God, because at that moment, given the chance to sit and talk with Jordan or be on her knees in prayer, she would rather be with him.

“I wasn’t feeling sorry for you. I was thinking how sad it is that such a beautiful, intelligent woman should have missed so much of life.”

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: Luke’s Wings

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!

Luke's Wings

It doesn’t take a war for service members or officers to be ill or injured. Having family nearby can make all the difference in recovery time. That’s where Luke’s Wings can often help.

“Luke’s Wings provides emergency travel planning services and airplane tickets for the families and loved ones of wounded, ill, and injured service members, Veterans, and fallen officers, during hospital recovery and rehabilitation. … Luke’s Wings was founded in 2008 after learning that the government only provides a very limited number of flights for loved ones to be bedside after a service member is injured. This is where Luke’s Wings steps in to fill the gap for the months and years ahead.

“Families are completely on their own to travel back and forth between their everyday lives and their new reality. Luke’s Wings provides complimentary airfare to wounded, ill, and injured service members, veterans and their loved ones keeping military families connected during recovery and rehabilitation. These flights bring mental, physical, emotional, and financial support, empowering wounded service members to overcome challenges they face every step of the way.”

The average commercial flight ticket is $350. Please comment on this blog post and I will contribute to help keep this worthy cause going. Thank you!!

BVS: Naval Maneuvers Dee S. Knight

May I tell you about Naval Maneuvers? Three novellas tell the stories of three servicemen and their loves. I dedicated the book to my dad, who proudly sailed the seas for 24 years and for my second father, who believed “once a Marine always a Marine,” and who demonstrated the finest qualities of the Corps in love of his country and family.

Blurb:
Men and women of the armed forces experience lust and love pretty much like everyone else. Except, well, there is that uniform. And the hard-to-resist attraction of “duty, honor, service” as a man might apply them to a woman’s pleasure. All things considered, romance among the military is a pretty sexy, compelling force for which you’d better be armed, whether weighing anchor and moving forward into desire, dropping anchor and staying put for passion, or setting a course for renewed love with anchor home. Explore the world of love and the military and see just how hot Naval Maneuvers can be.

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt:
Carie made her way around the side of the building and nearly ran into Todd, who lounged against the weathered wood siding. He looked better than good in a pale blue polo shirt and jeans. Top-Sider boat shoes with no socks gave him that naturally casual look that no model could successfully carry out.

“I was hoping you’d come,” he said.

“You were pretty obvious,” she said dryly.

“I knew you were smart enough to catch the hint. I just didn’t know if you’d follow it.”

How could she not? The moment she noticed him she’d remembered the feel of his being deep inside her. But that didn’t change a damn thing. They shouldn’t be here, not together.

She held her head high and tried to look down her nose at him—nearly impossible since he was taller than she, but she had perfected the attitude long before meeting Todd Baxter. Senior Chief Todd Baxter. “I wanted to walk the beach while I was here, that’s all.” Todd grinned and Carie melted inside.

“Lucky for me, I wanted to walk the beach, too,” he said. “Quite a coincidence, huh?”

She snorted in disbelief and slipped off her sandals. Brushing by him, she was glad he didn’t try to kiss her or hold her. But then she frowned. Why didn’t he try to kiss her? She’d wanted to jump his bones right there in that Norfolk hallway. They had to maintain propriety then, but here, no one would see them. What held him back? She knew an unfamiliar sense of self-doubt. Had she mistaken his feelings before?

Nonsense. Carie knew what they’d had was more than mere lust. It had been lust of stupendous proportions, far beyond a few days of burning out. Then what held him back? Knowing the military regulations preventing officers and enlisted personnel from having a relationship, you idiot.

Damn. She finally found someone she clicked with, and he had to be an enlisted man in the Navy.

The sand felt good between her toes, cool and squishy. Gulls screeched overhead and on the sand, where they snatched up sand crabs and poked around for scraps sunbathers might have left. Surf pounded to the shore and then surged forward, the sharp white of its foam sharp against the dark, wet sand before the water was absorbed. The sun beat down, making her wish she’d worn her bathing suit under her jeans and tank top so she could take a quick dip, and remembered to bring a floppy hat to shield her face.

Suddenly, something was plopped on her head. She dragged it off to look at it. SFC Baxter was stamped on the inside of a white sailor hat, brim folded down.

“I kept it for sentimental purposes when I made chief,” Todd said. When she raised her brows, he continued. “I brought it in case you came without a cover. I remember you were sensitive to the sun when we went to pick up your clothes.” He smiled. “And I know you’re quick to freckle. Not that I don’t like your freckles a great deal. Ma’am.”

She cringed at his use of “Ma’am,” though it was the proper term for him to use when a superior officer was a woman. But she smiled inside that he’d remembered such a small thing like the sensitivity to the sun suffered by all redheads. Chagrined, she put the hat on and pulled it forward, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“After all that time in North Carolina, how in hell did we never mention what we did for a living?” She couldn’t believe her stupidity. Martha had nothing on her for not asking the right questions.

“In Carolina we had lots of other things on our minds. I knew you’re a lawyer. When I thought of you, I never wondered how you spent your time at work. I just thought of how you spent your time with me.”

“That’s pretty shallow.”

Todd laughed. “Not to a man.”

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. 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.

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: Folds of Honor

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!

My charity this moth is Folds of Honor in honor of Memorial Day, which was last weekend here in the States. The mission of Folds of Honor is: “To provide educational scholarships to spouses and children of America’s fallen and disabled service-members. … Honor their sacrifice. Educate their legacy.” So this charity helps two ways that are near and dear to my heart—it helps give people who need the boost an education they might not be able to afford, and it honors those who have given so much. Please comment!

A woman who has traveled thousands of miles searching for a tall man with brilliant blue eyes. A man she’s been dreaming of for months.

A man whose life is in danger—or so the screwy woman having dreams and visions says—but who doesn’t believe for one minute in the occult.

A man who has been thought dead for two years and who disappeared with a bundle in stolen cash.

How will these three come together? And who will be left standing at the end of their encounter?

Buy or Read for free on KU: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09K4SSBY7

Excerpt:

Without waiting for an invitation, Dan turned a chair around and straddled it, his arms resting on the back. He called out a request for sweet tea to the woman behind the counter, who seemed to know him and was unsurprised by his manner of ordering.

“Please join me,” Cassandra said dryly, though she might as well not have said anything for all the attention he paid her words.

“So, when are you leaving?” He smiled tightly, and his voice was anything but friendly.

Cassandra responded in kind. “I’m not sure yet. But if you’ll leave me your number I’ll be sure to call when I’m ready to go. You’ll be prepared then to start the celebration.”

“What, is the town in one of your hocus-pocus dreams, too? Is that why you’re hanging around?” He took a sip of his tea, which the waitress had just set in front of him. “Thanks, Mindy,” he said.

“I fail to see why that’s any of your business.”

“Look, you told me you have a dream where you see me die. Seems to me that makes it a personal issue and my business. I’d just prefer not to have you hanging around spreading tales that might get some people upset. This is home to me, not some research location for a parapsychology experiment.”

“Mr. Morgan, I have no idea why you’re being so rude.”

He snorted at her comment.

“But I can assure you that I have no intention of talking to anyone in Greenwood about you, or harming your reputation in any way. I also had no intention of speaking with you again and thus taking the chance of piercing your obviously very thin skin, but since you have invited yourself to drink tea at my table, the least you can do is be civil. I was sitting here minding my own business and enjoying the peace of your town when you forced yourself on me. In a manner of speaking.”

His eyes took on a darker glint.

“I know you know how to carry on polite conversation, since you did so Saturday night. If you choose not to prove that you can do it again, please drink your tea in silence. Or better yet, go somewhere else and drink it.” She lifted her coffee cup to her lips and shifted her gaze across the street.

Dan took a sip of tea and looked at her over the glass. His gaze, in fact, proved so intense that she squirmed involuntarily. She glanced down to make sure she was dressed appropriately, and of course, she was. She had on jeans again and a white blouse that had small sprigs of flowers stitched on it. The sleeves just covered her shoulders and the band collar stood up high on her neck. What was it with this man that threw her so off kilter?

“Well in fact, Ms. Hudson, I can be civil when I choose to be. That’s a very pretty blouse you’re wearing. See?”

“Thank you.” She directed her green gaze back to him. She could almost see the strain it took him to sit there speaking to her in a normal tone of voice.

“I like all of that fine embroidery work.”

“I did it myself.”

“All of it?” He sounded surprised. “It’s very nicely done. We pride ourselves here on knowing something about textiles and good work on fabric. It’s been the lifeblood of this part of the South for a long time.”

“I know that. I’m interested in textile work.” Cassandra sighed. “Mr. Morgan, why are you sitting here talking to me? It’s plain that you’d rather be anywhere else. Don’t you have a root canal or some other minor torture you’d rather be off to?”

“Why, Ms. Hudson. Beautiful and astute.” He grinned as she straightened in her chair and once again directed her attention to a storefront across the street.

More quietly he said, “I don’t know why I’m here. There’s something about you that has me intrigued, I guess. I drove past the motel half a dozen times yesterday trying to decide why I was even on that side of town. I kept hoping I’d see you out and have an excuse to ‘happen’ into you. But I didn’t. So I drove home and used up frustrated energy in the shop. Messed up several good boards before I finally wound down. Lucky I didn’t cut off a damn finger in the process.”

Cassandra snapped her head around. She hoped the astonishment she felt wasn’t plain on her face.

Dan faced her directly. “So, is that civil enough for you?” He took a big gulp of tea. “I suddenly wish this was something stronger. Now that I’ve found you, I can hardly wait to get away.”

“Flatterer.”

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. She is the primary persona of three pen names—triplets, if you will: Dee, Anne Krist, and Jenna Stewart.

As noted above, Dee S. Knight writes erotic romance—emphasis on the romance! She was part of an anthology named a Top Pick in Romantic Times magazine (Resolutions) and the sole author of another Top Pick designation, for the paranormal erotic romance, Passionate Destiny.

“Sister” Anne Krist does not write erotic romance. Her book, Burning Bridges, has received high praise and multiple 5-star reviews because of the depth of the romance and emotion.

Third of the triplets is Jenna Stewart. Jenna has tried her hand at ménage—in both historical and shifter books. She wrote the Sisters O’Ryan series set during the westward migration in the U.S., the Great Wolves of Men-Edge, and Unlikely Bedfellows.

Regardless of the name she uses to write during the day, their dream man, childhood sweetheart, and long-time hubby are all the same guy. What happens during their nights are their secret.

For romance ranging from sweet to historical, contemporary to paranormal and more join the girls on Nomad Authors. Once a month, look for Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: https://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: https://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

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

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

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

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

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

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Charity Sunday: Travis Manion Foundation

Normally, tow 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! But this month, Lisabet Sarai, our fearless leader, is off on holiday. Hope she’s having a great time!! Please post a comment on my blog for the month, though. I appreciate your help. Thanks for your help and your participation!

Travis Manion was a Marine who was killed in Iraq while trying to save his wounded teammates. The Travis Manion Foundation serves to provide leadership and guidance to youth and community that match Travis’ words before he left on deployment: “If not me, then who?” “Guided by this ethos, veterans continue their service, build connections with each other, and thrive in their post-military lives by serving as character role models to youth. As a result, communities prosper and the character of our nation’s heroes lives on in the next generation.”

The foundation devotes over 90 cents of every dollar donated to their programs for youth and community. Please comment and I will donate to this worthy organization.

Naval Maneuvers is a fitting book to highlight this month, I think. I hope you enjoy the excerpt!

BVS: Naval Maneuvers Dee S. Knight

Blurb:
Men and women of the armed forces experience lust and love pretty much like everyone else. Except, well, there is that uniform. And the hard-to-resist attraction of “duty, honor, service” as a man might apply them to a woman’s pleasure. All things considered, romance among the military is a pretty sexy, compelling force for which you’d better be armed, whether weighing anchor and moving forward into desire, dropping anchor and staying put for passion, or setting a course for renewed love with anchor home. Explore the world of love and the military and see just how hot Naval Maneuvers can be.

Buy link:

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/Naval-Maneuvers-Dee-S-Knight-ebook/dp/B079V62PT3/

Excerpt:
Carie made her way around the side of the building and nearly ran into Todd, who lounged against the weathered wood siding. He looked better than good in a pale blue polo shirt and jeans. Top-Sider boat shoes with no socks gave him that naturally casual look that no model could successfully carry out.

“I was hoping you’d come,” he said.

“You were pretty obvious,” she said dryly.

“I knew you were smart enough to catch the hint. I just didn’t know if you’d follow it.”

How could she not? The moment she noticed him she’d remembered the feel of his being deep inside her. But that didn’t change a damn thing. They shouldn’t be here, not together.

She held her head high and tried to look down her nose at him—nearly impossible since he was taller than she, but she had perfected the attitude long before meeting Todd Baxter. Senior Chief Todd Baxter. “I wanted to walk the beach while I was here, that’s all.” Todd grinned and Carie melted inside.

“Lucky for me, I wanted to walk the beach, too,” he said. “Quite a coincidence, huh?”

She snorted in disbelief and slipped off her sandals. Brushing by him, she was glad he didn’t try to kiss her or hold her. But then she frowned. Why didn’t he try to kiss her? She’d wanted to jump his bones right there in that Norfolk hallway. They had to maintain propriety then, but here, no one would see them. What held him back? She knew an unfamiliar sense of self-doubt. Had she mistaken his feelings before?

Nonsense. Carie knew what they’d had was more than mere lust. It had been lust of stupendous proportions, far beyond a few days of burning out. Then what held him back? Knowing the military regulations preventing officers and enlisted personnel from having a relationship, you idiot.

Damn. She finally found someone she clicked with, and he had to be an enlisted man in the Navy.

The sand felt good between her toes, cool and squishy. Gulls screeched overhead and on the sand, where they snatched up sand crabs and poked around for scraps sunbathers might have left. Surf pounded to the shore and then surged forward, the sharp white of its foam sharp against the dark, wet sand before the water was absorbed. The sun beat down, making her wish she’d worn her bathing suit under her jeans and tank top so she could take a quick dip, and remembered to bring a floppy hat to shield her face.

Suddenly, something was plopped on her head. She dragged it off to look at it. SFC Baxter was stamped on the inside of a white sailor hat, brim folded down.

“I kept it for sentimental purposes when I made chief,” Todd said. When she raised her brows, he continued. “I brought it in case you came without a cover. I remember you were sensitive to the sun when we went to pick up your clothes.” He smiled. “And I know you’re quick to freckle. Not that I don’t like your freckles a great deal. Ma’am.”

She cringed at his use of “Ma’am,” though it was the proper term for him to use when a superior officer was a woman. But she smiled inside that he’d remembered such a small thing like the sensitivity to the sun suffered by all redheads. Chagrined, she put the hat on and pulled it forward, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“After all that time in North Carolina, how in hell did we never mention what we did for a living?” She couldn’t believe her stupidity. Martha had nothing on her for not asking the right questions.

“In Carolina we had lots of other things on our minds. I knew you’re a lawyer. When I thought of you, I never wondered how you spent your time at work. I just thought of how you spent your time with me.”

“That’s pretty shallow.”

Todd laughed. “Not to a man.”

Stupid answer. But it had been his very maleness that captivated her. Well, and orgasms. Who’s shallow now?

“Look,” he said, his hand out in a request for understanding. “It isn’t as though I didn’t want to get to know you better. I did. I do. But when we’re together I can’t keep my hands off you. I can’t stop thinking how I want to touch you, kiss you, do other things to–”

“When were you going to tell me you were in the Navy?” she asked.

He sighed loud enough that she heard it over the sound of the waves. “I don’t know. I guess when we slowed down enough to talk. There wasn’t much time.”

There hadn’t been. In Asheville, if they hadn’t been eating or sleeping, they were busy in other ways. And there hadn’t been much eating or sleeping going on.

“I think they should put a plaque on the outside of that room for the fewest number of times the occupants left in four days. I couldn’t get enough of you.” Carrying his shoes in his left hand, he stuck his right hand in his pocket and strolled along beside her, barefoot. “I still can’t.”

“You didn’t exactly write and tell me that.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want to assume too much, not knowing if you wanted me again as much as I wanted you. Call me shy.” He grinned, and she burst into laughter. “Besides,” he continued, “you’re the one who left saying, ‘It’s been fun.'”

She dipped her head, acknowledging the fact. “And you agreed.”

“Carie, I was scared.”

He sounded sincere, but really? He stopped and stared out across the breakers. She stared along with him, wondering what he saw out there. “I’m pretty set in my ways,” he said, and she had to strain to hear him, he spoke so low. “I’ll be honest, I haven’t been a monk, but sex with you was different. You made me think of things I’d never considered before.” He studied her face. “Do you understand?”

“I think so,” she said softly. “I wanted you more than anything. I’ve never had time or energy for a relationship. I’ve given all I have to my career. But I think I want more now.”

Todd reached to cup her cheek but then dropped his hand. “Like I said, I’m not a monk but there’s been no one since you.”

She wanted him. More, she needed him. “Nor for me. It wouldn’t have been the same. Nothing before you was ever that intense. Nothing else has ever touched me.” Pain struck her heart. “I want to kiss you so damn much.”

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

Charity Sunday: Tunnel to Towers

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named below. 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!

Tunnel to Towers: “Since 9/11, we have been helping America’s heroes by providing mortgage-free homes to Gold Star and fallen first responder families with young children and by building specially-adapted smart homes for catastrophically injured veterans and first responders. We are also committed to eradicating veteran homelessness and helping America to Never Forget September 11, 2001.”

There are events in our lives that we always remember where we were when we heard it happened. For me, some of those events were when John Kennedy was shot, when Neil Armstrong stepped onto the moon, when Captain Jeremiah Denton arrived home from his imprisonment in Vietnam, and, of course, when the towers and Pentagon were struck and the folks on United 93 made the ultimate sacrifice.

The events of 9/11 2001 should never be forgotten. Not just America was affected—people from all over the world were in the towers that day. What happened on 9/11 was not simply “Some people did something…” as one politician expressed it. Instead, the attack was a planned and organized act of terror. I watch the full news reports every year and every year I am struck again by the horror, the heroism, the panic. The evil that people can do to one another and the acts of bravery and goodness that also result.

An example of the goodness is Tunnel to Towers. I hope you will comment. Thanks for your participation!

Naval Maneuvers

Naval Maneuvers by Dee S. Knight

Men and women of the armed forces experience lust and love pretty much like everyone else. Except, well, there is that uniform. And the hard-to-resist attraction of “duty, honor, service” as a man might apply them to a woman’s pleasure.

All things considered, romance among the military is a pretty sexy, compelling force for which you’d better be armed, whether weighing anchor and moving forward into desire, dropping anchor and staying put for passion, or setting a course for renewed love with anchor home. Explore the world of love and the military and see just how hot Naval Maneuvers can be.

Buy link:
Amazon Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Naval-Maneuvers-Dee-S-Knight-ebook/dp/B079V62PT3/

Excerpt:

“And what is your name, pretty?” Mel Crandall addressed the dinosaur bones in an undertone, bending nearly to face level. The skeleton displayed an open mouth and rows of fierce, sharp teeth.

“Roger,” a man standing next to her said in a low voice. Startled, she looked up. Up being the operative word. She stood a decent five feet ten inches, and he beat her by a good half foot. She studied him. He ignored her.

The guy had a solid profile, strong chin, chiseled cheekbones, and a straight back with muscular shoulders. Short brown hair. He wore glasses and stared straight ahead, but glasses couldn’t disguise the laugh lines that radiated from the corners of his eyes. His posture was near perfect and he was not overweight, as evidenced by the trim fit of his jeans and red polo shirt that clung enough to give evidence of a low body/mass index number.

As a doctor, she immediately noticed body characteristics before actual looks. But with this guy, examination in lieu of admiration was hard. Men were often put off by the fact that she paid attention to whether they looked sallow or flushed, or if their hands were cold or warm before she “saw” them. She noticed if a man’s eyes were dilated or glittered with fever before she registered eye color. Dates started with mini examinations before she relaxed enough to enjoy personalities, but that’s just the way she was. Men had to take it or leave it. Sadly, most left it. Which was why she talked to dinosaurs at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History all on her own.

Mel moved on to the next exhibit, a shorter built specimen but still tall and with a nasty spiked tail. “I wonder what you looked like,” she murmured. “What color were you, what did you eat, and what’s your name?” She bent to read the exhibit information.

“Gray. Grass.” That same guy had followed her. Rather than having a strong profile, she was beginning to think he was a weirdo. “Annnd, roger.”

Quickly, Mel moved to the next exhibit. “And you are–”

“Roger.”

He stood beside her again! Mel started to look for a museum guard but saw none. Great. Planting her hands on her hips, she turned to him. “Stop following me,” she said loudly enough that people in the general area turned to see what was happening.

The guy said, “Hold it.”

Hold it? Hold it, as in “Wait a minute, little lady?” She opened her mouth to lay into him when he turned and removed his glasses, showing her the richest, most chocolatey brown eyes she’d ever seen. The words stuck in her mouth.

“I’m sorry, what?”

In a lower voice she said, “You’re following me from exhibit to exhibit and talking to me. I want you to stop.”

“I didn’t realize…” He wiggled the glasses at her. “I’m working here and I’m afraid I didn’t notice you.”

Well. What was worse, that he was a pervert following her place to place, or that he wasn’t a perv and hadn’t even noticed 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! Once a 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

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: 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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