Tag Archives: historical

Don’t Throw Anything Away – A Guest Post by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Lesbian #Sapphic #Highwayman #Outlaw #EighteenthCentury #Adventure #CrossDressing #GenderBending #Devonshire #KingGeorge #RedCoats

Inspiration is fickle. One day you’ll be seized by an idea that just won’t let you go. You throw yourself into the writing, intoxicated by the process of creation, certain this will be the best book you’ve ever produced. The sentences and paragraphs flow, the story taking shape on the page almost without effort.

Then, suddenly and inexplicably, the fire dies out. The magic evaporates, and you’re left to plod along, trying dutifully to complete the opus to which you’ve devoted your time, despite your doubts about its quality.

If you’re trying to make a living writing, you can’t afford to wait for the muse. You’ve got to produce. If, like me, you write primarily for the joy of the process, you may abandon the entire project when your inspiration disappears.

That’s what happened with By Moonlight. For years, I’d wanted to write an erotic tale based on the Alfred Noyes poem “The Highwayman”. One day the stars aligned. I sat down and wrote the first chapter in a couple of hours. It turned out exactly as I’d imagined it, both lyrical and arousing. I was chuffed, as my UK author friends would say, eager to push the tale forward.

The next weekend, though, when I sat down to continue, I discovered that inspiration had fled. The whole notion seemed silly. I really couldn’t force myself to write any more.

So I put the barely-started tale aside and worked on something else. I always have lots of potential projects in mind, far more than my writing time allows.

That was four years ago. I’d almost forgotten By Moonlight. Then a stormy night recently reminded me of the poem, and the poem reminded me of the story. When I pulled it up and re-read it, I was freshly impressed and determined to complete it.

After such a long lag, I worried that I wouldn’t be able to recreate the tone of that intense first installment. Fortunately I was able to get feedback from my online critique partners, who helped me to adjust the language and the atmosphere appropriately. All in all, I’m happy with the result. I think I’ve managed to fulfill my intentions, offering homage to the Noyes poem while twisting the story in an original (and happier) direction.

The lesson here, though, is clear. If you are an author, don’t throw anything away! Keep all your snippets, all your abandoned projects, all your monuments to the departed muse.

You really never know when inspiration will return.

*****

Blurb

I’ll come for you by moonlight – though Hell should bar the way

In her eighteen years on earth, Bess has never traveled more than twenty miles from her Devonshire village. The raven-haired innkeeper’s daughter has little time to dream of adventure as she labors from dawn to dusk to keep her abusive father satisfied.

Then, at the weekly market in Tavistock town, she meets a handsome dandy who claims her with a single stolen kiss. When the gallant gentleman makes a midnight visit to the inn, Bess learns that her new lover is none other than Kit Latour, a notorious French highwayman who has been boldly relieving the local nobility of their valuables. Well-aware of the risk she’s taking, Bess still offers herself to the seductive outlaw. Even Kit’s darkest secrets cannot quench the flames of her love.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/1183-by-moonlight-/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C99C59RY

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0C99C59RY

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1413596

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/by-moonlight-lisabet-sarai/1143711659?ean=2940166073495

Kobo  – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/by-moonlight-8

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6450718058

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/180643788-by-moonlight

Add on BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/by-moonlight-by-lisabet-sarai

*****

Excerpt:

“You were very brave tonight, Bess. You made me proud.”

“Brave? How can you say that? I didn’t fight them. I let them take me, bind me, and use me as bait.”

“You didn’t weep or beg. The soldiers in the common room remarked on your boldness. ‘Not a tear did she shed,’ said one. ‘So sure she was that her bloody Frenchman would rescue her.’”

“I dared not hope for rescue. My only thought was to warn you before they could spring their foul trap.”

“Oh, Bess! That would have been fatal.” Kit rose smoothly from her nest by the fire, graceful despite her encumbering skirts. She held out a hand.

Bess clasped the proffered fingers and clambered to her feet. “They planned to execute me in any case. But how I longed for one last kiss!”

“You’ve earned a hundred, love. Starting now.”

A quick tug drew Bess against Kit’s body. Strong arms encircled her, pulling her close, the delicious press of breast against breast making her dizzy with desire.

Kit tasted of the tart fruit she’d just consumed. Forceful as any man, she sealed Bess’s mouth with her own and teased the girl’s lips open to thrust her tongue inside.

Bess responded with equal ardor. Heat swept through her as though it were June instead of October. The fevered kiss struck sparks from her tender nipples. The space between her thighs was a puddle of molten need. Their breath mingled; their tongues twined. She clung to Kit’s lean, road-hardened torso, the shift of powerful muscle under the female costume somehow magnifying her excitement.

Without relinquishing her hold or disengaging from the kiss, Kit backed Bess toward the mattress. They tumbled unceremoniously onto the straw-filled pallet, clawing at one another’s clothing. Buttons flew in all directions when Kit tore open Bess’s bodice. Grasping her partner’s shoulders and pinning her to the mattress, Kit fastened her mouth on one achingly hard nipple that poked through the muslin garment beneath.

“Oh…” The wet suction sent bolts of delight straight to Bess’s clit, as though a fiery cord tethered it to her nipples. When Kit raked her teeth across the taut nip, Bess clenched and shuddered with need. Her empty cunny cried out for her lover’s fingers or tongue.

“Please…” she moaned, dragging her tangled skirts up and spreading her thighs. “Oh, Kit, have mercy!”

The sweet torture continued for several minutes before Kit relented. She rolled back on her heels and gazed into Bess’s eyes, a saucy grin playing on her ripe lips. “So you’re hungry after all, minx! Well, then…” One hand on each thigh, she dove for the gaping slit in Bess’s drawers.

Like an arrow flying to its target, she connected with the swollen bud at the apex of Bess’s sex. Kit sucked the bead into her mouth while prodding it with her tongue. Bess arched off the bed at the sudden, intense stimulation. Then the brazen outlaw plunged two fingers deep into Bess’s quim.

Bess screamed at the sudden incursion. A ragged climax erupted within her, pleasure so fierce it was almost pain. Pinwheels whirled in her cunny, throwing off flashes of delight. Kit continued to pump in and out, pushing her inexorably to a second spend. As she tumbled over the edge for the second time, her lover snatched her fingers from Bess’s channel and replaced them with her tongue.

*****

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

New Release! Power and Persuasion: A Gilded Age BDSM Romance by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Historical #BDSM #Dominance #Submission #Surrender #Bondage #Discipline #Newport #GildedAge #Billionaire #EnemiesToLovers

Power and PersuasionBlurb

She’s his natural enemy – and the only woman who can satisfy his perverse sexual needs.

Andrew MacIntyre, heir to a vast empire of railroads, mines and mills, is by far the most eligible bachelor among the society folk summering in Newport, Rhode Island. His mother has filled their opulent mansion with the daughters of bankers and industrialists, but Andrew knows none of these callow young women would ever consent to being bound and beaten, to serving and obeying him the way he craves. His money gives him the freedom to purchase anything except his heart’s desire: a submissive partner to share his life.

Labor activist Olivia Alcott is dedicated to helping the exploited factory workers responsible for Andrew’s wealth. The strike she organizes triggers a confrontation between her and the handsome billionaire. Although their disparate backgrounds and values make them natural foes, something stronger draws them to one another: his need to command and hers to surrender.

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound under the title Challenge to Him. It has been revised, expanded by two chapters, and re-edited for this release.

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09HSS7C6T

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09HSS7C6T

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1108116

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/power-and-persuasion-lisabet-sarai/1140290642?ean=2940165040306

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/power-and-persuasion-a-gilded-age-bdsm-romance

Add on Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/59240690-power-and-persuasion

*****

Excerpt:

“Mademoiselle Olivia!” A skinny girl raced up the street that led to the riverside mill, stirring clouds of dust. “Il vient! He is coming!”

The sputtering racket of an internal combustion engine drowned out the girl’s excited voice. The crowd parted like the Red Sea for a boxy vehicle of shiny black, with silvery headlamps like extruded eyes. The noisy Studebaker rolled to a stop in front of the strikers, who stopped in their tracks like everyone else to stare at it.

The door creaked open. A tall man unfolded himself from the somewhat cramped interior, snatched off his hat and goggles and tossed them into the vehicle. He strode towards the massed strikers, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Where is she? Where’s your damned leader?”

The newspapers generally described Andrew MacIntyre as handsome. The epithet did not do him justice. As he stormed towards her, Olivia was struck with a sense of physical power and keen intelligence. He had wavy red-gold hair, a high forehead, a square chin, a determined mouth. His eyes were hazel, deep set under brows darker than his hair. Those eyes drilled into her, fierce and compelling. The women around her shrank backwards in alarm. Olivia steeled herself, holding her ground and fighting the urge to grovel at his feet. Instead of retreating, she took a step forward, holding out her hand.

“Mr. Andrew MacIntyre, I presume?” She marveled at the steadiness of her voice, the cool neutral tone.

“Damned right. And you are…?”

“Olivia Alcott.” She pulled herself up to her full height and forced herself to meet his gaze. She saw anger simmering there, but behind his irritation there was something else, something that intrigued and thrilled her. Something that she might be able to use to further her goals.

Olivia Alcott recognized lust when she saw it.

He towered over her by at least a head. Though his body was hidden by his loose touring coat, his decisive, economical movements suggested he was lean and athletic. For a moment he hesitated, staring at her proffered hand. When he finally accepted it, his firm grip confirmed her impression of strength. His palm felt warm and dry against hers. She suddenly wished that she were not so sticky and disheveled. When he released her, a momentary lightness swept through her, as though she might float away.

“And can I assume that you are the instigator and cause of this illegal strike, Miss Alcott?” He seemed flustered, less confident than she would have expected. Her spirits rose.

“Instigator? Perhaps. But not the cause.” Sweat trickled from her hairline, down into her eyes. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

“Here.” He surprised her by offering a crisp handkerchief of fine linen, of a white so pure it almost seemed to shine with its own light. The initials ‘AM’ were embroidered in the corner, in golden thread. A faint scent of lavender reached her nostrils.

“Why, thank you!” The square of cloth was far more effective than her hand. When she’d mopped the perspiration from her face, she held out the swatch of now-damp fabric. “Here you are.”

He waved dismissively. “Keep it. I’ve got dozens more. Let’s get back to the matter at hand.”

“How much did this handkerchief cost, Mr. MacIntyre?”

“I have no idea. My secretary handles my personal expenses.”

“It’s imported linen, I suspect. Belgian, perhaps?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Look, Miss Alcott—”

“And the monogram looks like real gold. Is it?”

“Honestly, what does that have to do with anything?”

Olivia tucked the handkerchief into her bodice, noting that MacIntyre’s eyes followed the movement. Indeed he didn’t try to hide his survey of her figure, rude as it was. Another tremor of strangeness fluttered in her belly.

“I’m no expert—I don’t have anything so fine myself—but I’d estimate that each of the dozens of handkerchiefs like this that you possess cost at least ten dollars.”

“Ah—really I don’t know—perhaps. Something in that vicinity.”

“That’s about two weeks of salary for one of these women who work here in your factory.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The cause of the strike, Mr. MacIntyre. You asked about the cause of the strike. These poor women—your employees, sir, to whom you have a certain responsibility—generally make five dollars a week. They’d have to work for two weeks—twelve days, twelve hours per day—to afford one of your handkerchiefs. Do you think this is just?”

“Well, they should be grateful they have jobs.” MacIntyre leaned closer, his manner and his voice menacing. “And if you don’t stop your meddling, they won’t. I’ll fire every single one of them in a minute. There are plenty of people who’d be happy for steady work, for a reputable company that’s not about to go bust and put them out on the street.”

“Won’t you consider raising their salaries, Mr. MacIntyre?” Olivia countered, inserting a bit of sweetness into her own voice. She laid her hand on his upper arm and felt his muscles shift under her fingers. “An additional dollar a week would make a big difference to them.”

“I’m running a business here, Miss Alcott, not a charity.” He pulled away from her grasp and shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts, then stepped past her to speak to the assembled workers.

*****

About Lisabet

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

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

Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Pink Triangle by Lea Bronsen (@leabronsen) #WWII #WW2 #Historical #Manlove #MM #Gay #Erotic #Romance

Pink TriangleBlurb:

Fearing and desiring the enemy… Sometimes you can’t choose who you love.

Oslo, April 1945

Paul is a handsome, free-spirited Norwegian in the prime of his life, but he doesn’t fit the German occupant ideology simply because he’s gay. And so, when the Gestapo catches him for producing illegal propaganda, he’s tortured and threatened to be sent to a German concentration camp with a pink triangle sewn on his shirt, the symbol for homosexuals.

It will take great courage and mind-blowing circumstances of luck, as the Führer commits suicide and the end of the war seems nearer by the day, for Paul to avoid his death transport to Germany.

And it will take the growing attraction of the Gestapo commander himself to regain his full freedom—and capture his heart.

Available from: Books2Read / Amazon.com / Amazon.uk / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / iBooks / Smashwords

Put the book on your to-read shelf on Goodreads

See photos that inspired me to write the book on Pinterest

*****

Excerpt

A couple hours later, when the sun stood high and bright in the sky, the sound of horseshoes came from the garden. Paul had dozed in the hay, enveloped by the soft jacket lining and lulled by happy bird songs and the rustling of leaves outside, but the commander’s return had him sit up against the wall.

The horse’s hairy muzzle appeared in the crack before the big animal pushed the door open and stepped into the shed.

Heimlich sat straight in the saddle, bare-chested, slim but muscular in all the right places, his uniform folded across his lap. Paul tried not to gape at the sight. With ease and grace, the commander dismounted and hung his clothes on hooks on the wall. Drops of sweat pearled on his forehead and temple and rolled down his firm chest and abdomen, making his skin shine. So, so very sexy. He took off his hat, uncovering his dark blond hair slick with sweat—but it only accentuated the sexiness.

He turned to Paul and caught him staring. “What are you smiling at?”

Oops.

Paul straightened and regretted having let himself be carried away. “I wasn’t smiling.”

“Yes, you were. You think I’m not aware I look like an office rat? You need to rub it in?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know very well I could use more muscle, and that I need to strengthen my stomach.” He tapped his six-pack, which was perfect in Paul’s world.

“Well, that hasn’t crossed my mind.”

An understatement.

“Really?” The commander raised a brow. “Do you honestly like what you see?”

Holy fuck, what a question…

Uncertain whether the man realized what he’d just said, Paul waited a bit before he asked, voice low, “Are you honestly asking a homosexual if he likes your body?”

The commander blinked slowly. “When you put it like that…” With a goofy smile, he turned to gaze out of the shed and shook his head.

Paul allowed him a moment to recoup. He was tempted to tease, but didn’t.

When the commander returned to Paul, he pointed at him. “Forget I said that. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Yeah, I’m likely to forget…

They held each other’s looks for a while, the commander inscrutable.

“Listen,” Paul said, emboldened by the awkward situation. “I’m going to be very frank with you. I hate you with all of my heart—”

No reaction.

“—But when you parade around me like that,” he pointed at the man’s naked torso, “you make it difficult for me to…”

“To what?”

To not like you.

*****

About the author

Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.

Meet Lea Bronsen on

Website / Blog / Facebook / Twitter / BookBub / Instagram / Goodreads / Amazon

Behind the Iron Cross by Nicola Cameron (@YesItsNicolaC)

Behind The Iron CrossHello, and thanks so much for having me on today! While Behind the Iron Cross is my tenth romance novel to be published, it was actually the first one I ever wrote. I started it in 2012, picking at it in fits and starts while working on my other books, and finally finished it in 2018. In hindsight this is a good thing because I needed some serious novel writing chops, far more than I had in 2012, to pull this story off properly. The experience I’ve gained in the last six years is what made this book possible, and I’m very happy that it’s now available to readers.

Also, it means that my editor will stop nagging me to finish it. (Love you, Theresa!)

Historical Romance, Erotic Romance, MMF Ménage Romance

Word Count: 105,000

Heat Level: 4

Published by Belaurient Press

Formats: ebook, print

Price: $3.99 (sale price until 12/1: $0.99)

Pages: 316

Print Trim Size: 5.25” x 8”

ISBN: 978-0-46311-821-4

ASIN: B07JKL7BF5

Be warned: M/M sex, M/M/F sex, bondage, spanking, multiple partners

BLURB:

In the hedonistic wonderland of Cabaret-era Berlin…

…where money can buy you anything you desire…

…and love comes with a pink rose and a practiced smile…

The year is 1923, the Great War is over, and Berlin has become the manic playground of Europe’s elite. Against a glittering background of nightclubs and hot jazz, a sensual American heiress, a wounded playboy, and a desperate German army officer forge a decadent pact of pleasure. But their nights of uninhibited passion soon lead to a forbidden emotional connection, one that will threaten their future … and their lives.

BUY LINKS:

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07JKL7BF5
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2zf3FlY
Barnes & Noble:
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/behind-the-iron-cross-nicola-m-cameron/1129901477
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/behind-the-iron-cross
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/behind-the-iron-cross/id1442679063?mt=11
Smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/906332

*****

EXCERPT

Kat followed her men, feeling incredibly relaxed and happy. All of her worries about Schoengraff, the wedding, and her future at Tracy Electric felt like they had been trapped behind a thick, clear wall. She knew they were still there, of course, but they didn’t plague her at all.

And seeing both Friedrich and Sam’s trousers bulging from the kissing and canoodling in the hubble-bubble den was doing wonderful things to her own desire. As soon as the car started moving Sam fell on the colonel like a hungry beast, mashing their mouths together and driving his tongue between Friedrich’s lips. His hand snaked down, cupping the German’s undoubtedly aching cock and squeezing it.

It seemed only right to join in. She leaned closer to Friedrich, pressing her breast against his arm as she nibbled and sucked on his earlobe, whispering filthy things into his ear. He gave Sam a last kiss and turned to her, groaning as she undid a button on his shirt and slid her fingers inside to caress the skin there.

Sam moved back in, biting at Friedrich’s neck then soothing the sting with a lick. A fleeting thought crossed Kat’s mind, a wish to have both of her beautiful men naked and in bed with her. All three of them creating a tangle of bodies and limbs, so close that no one could tell where one ended and another began, and to hell if it shocked all of Bridgeport and its stuffy, stodgy society.

At some point the car stopped and the door opened, Horst looming in the opening. The next thing Kat knew they were up in the suite. How, she had no idea, but she was absolutely delighted by it. She led her men into her bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she went.

Laughing, Friedrich fell on Sam, pushing him into the bed and kissing him greedily, opening his mouth to the American’s. “You feel so good,” he said softly, dropping soft kisses over the other man’s chin, cheeks, nose. “Why do you feel so damned good?”

“I don’t know, but I’m glad I do,” Sam murmured. “You feel even better, angel.”

“Mmm.” Friedrich writhed, rubbing against Sam’s lean body. “Too many clothes.”

“I can help with that,” Kat said. She started unbuttoning his shirt, laughing as her fingers fumbled on the tiny mother of pearl discs.

Friedrich stared up at her, naked adoration on his face. He lifted a hand, brushing her cheek with a tender finger that sent shivers down her spine. “You’re so beautiful, Kätzchen. So strong, like a goddess.”

Kätzchen—kitten. Tonight, she would accept that once-hated nickname, especially since he finished up by calling her a goddess. “Clothes, colonel. Let’s get you out of them.”

She quickly stripped him, leaving him naked and gorgeous on the fine sheets while Sam fumbled with his own clothes. Friedrich looked down at his magnificent cock, already hard and pearling a drop of pleasure at the tip, and laughed at it. Sam joined in, and Kat followed. Everything felt wonderful.

The men rolled into each other’s arms and started kissing again, hands roaming muscular bodies and caressing, squeezing, stroking as she watched. It was wickedly delicious, the sight of these two beautiful creatures pleasuring each other. She stripped slowly, reveling in the heightened sensation of her skin as it was exposed to the room’s cool air. She dropped her chemise, then her corselet to the carpet, peeling off the fine silk stockings last and draping them around her neck like a stole. They caught on the chain there. Mustn’t snag the stockings. There were things she could do with them, wonderfully dark and heady things.

She unhooked the chain and tossed it and the key onto the bedside table. Crawling onto the bed, she gently pushed Friedrich onto his back and away from Sam, slithering down into his arms. “My turn,” she purred.

His eyes were thin rings of blue around wide black centers, the eyes of a child on Christmas morning who had just seem the mountain of presents awaiting him. “So beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

She stroked his cheek, feeling the fine prickle of his beard. “So are you, my colonel. The most beautiful man, isn’t he, Sam?”

“Oh, yes,” Sam said thickly, kissing his way down Friedrich’s chest. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

She wanted to kiss Friedrich again, taste his mouth, feel his tongue dancing slickly around hers as they shared breath and heat. A faint voice in the back of her head murmured something in a warning tone, something about discipline and too much indulgence. She didn’t care. She wanted this beautiful man, and she was going to have him.

*****

BIO

Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in romance since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads

How I Came to be a Writer – Guest Post by Freda Lightfoot (@fredalightfoot) #giveaway

Thank you so much for inviting me on your blog. I’ll tell you a little about myself.

How I came to be a writer.
I longed to become a writer but this was considered rather an exotic ambition so my parents encouraged me to get an education first. No one in my family had ever stayed on for further education before, so I was elected to blaze the trail. I qualified as a primary teacher and worked for a number of years. I married in 1969 and a few years later we moved to the Lake District with our two daughters. I then ran a bookshop for ten years and secretly wrote late in the night.

Later, when I sold my bookshop, I tried anything and everything. Short stories, serials, a children’s novel, picture scripts and a few Mills & Boon contemporaries, although I gained more rejection slips than cheques. The aim was to send material out faster than it came back, which wasn’t easy. We had a brilliant postal service and all the rejections would come bouncing back with remarkable speed. But at last the day came when I sold my first short story to D.C.Thompson. It was a red letter day indeed. That was also the name of the magazine, now defunct. Following this breakthrough I seemed to develop the knack for I went on to sell many more stories. With renewed confidence I tried again for Mills & Boon, this time with a historical, Madeiran Legacy, which was accepted. I wrote five historical romances as Marion Carr for Mills & Boon which greatly taught me my craft. Only later did I have sufficient confidence to try for the mainstream fiction market, selling my first saga, Luckpenny Land, to Hodder & Stoughton in 1993 on a three book contract.

I was fortunate back in 2010 to get the rights of many of my backlist reverted from a couple of publishers. Hearing about ebooks in the US I set out to learn how to produce them, finally achieved that and regularly self-published some. Sales began quite slowly, which didn’t trouble me as I was also writing for another publisher. But once Kindles arrived in the UK in Christmas 2011, I must say my sales shot up surprisingly well and I was amazed by my success. As a consequence in 2013, I was contacted by Amazon Lake Union for an interview, then later offered a contract by them. My first book with them, The Amber Keeper, soon sold over a hundred thousand, and has now sold more. Such a thrill. Selling ebooks is now much higher for me than print books. My second book was Forgotten Women, which is also doing quite well. Now comes publication of Girls of the Great War, which I loved writing too.

This book was such fun to write, if sad and heartbreaking when Cecily lost the love of her life. She was concerned for herself, and also for her sister Merryn, who was engrossed with a young man Cecily did not approve of. He was not an easy young man.

*****

Excerpt from Girls of the Great War:

Later that afternoon Merryn eagerly hurried over to the Palace Theatre just a short distance away. The young drummer was fully engaged in rehearsal, the bandleader constantly hammering his baton to stop the musicians playing while he issued more instructions to them. She knew she would have to wait a while before he was free, so taking a seat she watched him. He was a cheerful young man with reddish hair, soft grey eyes that were constantly alight behind his spectacles, a slightly gap-toothed smile and a chiselled chin. Being a bit of a joker, Johnny Wilcox was great fun. When finally he was allowed a break, Merryn offered to buy him an afternoon tea at a nearby café.

‘There’s something I’d like to discuss with you over a little tiffin,’ she said with a smile.

‘That sounds good,’ he grinned, his expression filled with curiosity.

As they sat enjoying tea and biscuits, Merryn told him of her sister’s plan to create a small concert party and entertain the troops in France.

He looked a little taken aback. ‘Blimey, that’ll be a challenge. I wouldn’t want anything dreadful to happen to either of you two girls.’

‘I don’t think we’ll be anywhere near the front line where the fighting is going on. We just plan to entertain the soldiers at their bases. I know you appreciated how Cecily discovered her talent to sing. Oh, and by the way, I can play an accordion.’

He gave another wide grin. ‘What a brick you are, a real sport. As you know, I play drums and cymbals, so can I come too?’

Merryn blinked in surprise, amazed by this instant offer, having fully expected she’d need to persuade him. ‘You most certainly can. I was about to ask if you’d be interested, as we’d welcome your support. I doubt there’ll be any wages paid since we’ll be volunteers fed and accommodated by the army.’

He creased his lips into a pout then gave a little smirk. ‘I’ll do my best to accept that fact. You’re a girl with great talent, as is Cecily. I’d love to work with you both.’

The weather being sunny he walked with her to the beach, talking about the music they loved to play and how long it had taken each of them to learn these skills. ‘I’ve been playing drums all my life, ever since Dad bought me one for Christmas when I was ten. It kept me sane when I was suffering his loss.’

‘Oh, how dreadful. How did that happen? I know very little about your past.’

‘I was born in Barnsley in Yorkshire; part of a working class family who became even poorer after Dad was tragically killed in a mining accident. Such bloody bad luck. Following his death my mam worked as a cleaner, earning barely enough money to feed her six children, all of them younger than me. I eventually was able to help by getting myself a job playing my drum kit at a local pub. I was so thrilled with Dad’s present that I was determined to improve it and learn how to play well. Thankfully I succeeded.’

‘Good for you, Johnny, I’m glad to hear that. My father sadly drowned in the Thames when we were quite young, although how that happened has never been explained to us and we have little memory of him. Queenie refuses to say anything on the subject, not even explain why her marriage went wrong.’

‘My mam didn’t talk much about her early life either. Far too distressing for her.’

Merryn decided that they had a great deal in common and could be well suited to work together, both being musicians. ‘I’m delighted to hear that you wish to join our team.’

‘Why would I not, when you’re so attractive?’

Merryn rolled her eyes in amusement, having no belief in her own looks. She saw herself as quite plain, a little too round and simply practical, interested mainly in fashion, sewing, make-up and hairstyles. Cecily had always been the pretty one with talent and plenty of young men falling for her, whereas she’d never found a boy who really took a shine to her. Merryn adored her sister and felt quite proud of her famous mother too, readily willing to deal with Queenie’s problems. His next words startled her out of those thoughts.

‘Can I give you a little kiss of thanks,’ Johnny murmured.

‘I’m not sure that would be a good idea,’ she stuttered. He was a most pleasant young man, if a little flirtatious.

‘I must confess that I’ve always felt the need for more closeness between us.’ Taking hold of her hand he gave it a gentle little kiss.

*****

Blurb
Cecily Hanson longs to live life on her own terms—to leave the shadow of her overbearing mother and marry her childhood sweetheart once he returns from the Great War. But when her fiancé is lost at sea, this future is shattered. Looking for meaning again, she decides to perform for the troops in France.

Life on the front line is both rewarding and terrifying, and Cecily soon finds herself more involved—and more in danger—than she ever thought possible. And her family has followed her to France. Her sister, Merryn, has fallen for a young drummer whose charm hides a dark side, while their mother, Queenie—a faded star of the stage tormented by her own secret heartache—seems set on a path of self-destruction.

As the war draws to a close and their hopes turn once again to the future, Cecily and Merryn are more determined than ever to unravel the truth about their mother’s past: what has she been hiding from them—and why?

Buy links:

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2wKaX2y

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2rGc528

*****

My Biog
I was born in a small mill town in Lancashire. My mother comes from generations of weavers, and my father was a shoe-repairer. I still remember the first pair of clogs he made for me. After several years of teaching, I opened a bookshop in Kendal, Cumbria. And while living in the rural Lakeland Fells, rearing sheep and hens, I turned to writing. I wrote over fifty articles and short stories for magazines such as My Weekly and Woman’s Realm, before finding my vocation as a novelist and became a Sunday Times Bestselling author. I’ve now written over forty-eight novels, mostly sagas and historical fiction, my three latest books, including Girls of the Great War, out in May are published by Amazon Lake Union. I spend warm winters living in Spain, and the rainy summers in Britain.

Website: www.freda@fredalightfoot.co.uk

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Freda-Lightfoot-Books/149641371839646

Twitter: @fredalightfoot

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/448774.Freda_Lightfoot

My Blogspot: http://www.fredalightfoot.blogspot.com/

If you wish to be kept up to date on new titles and contests, sign up on my website http://www.fredalightfoot.co.uk  to subscribe to my Newsletter: I only send out 4 or 5 a year so your inbox won’t be flooded.

*****

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here:  http://writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/freda-lightfoot-3/

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Passionate Pursuit (Book 3 – Dangerous Desires Series) by Tina Donahue (@tinadonahue)

Passionate PursuitBlurb:

Is their passion strong enough to break her chains?

Andalucía Spain, 1489: Innocent Beatriz is desperate to escape the threat of a miserable marriage to a cruel Marquis. Forced into the betrothal by her ruthless merchant papá, her only hope is to conceal her identity and become a servant in a nearby castle—a life drastically different from her comfortable upbringing.

Tomás doesn’t know what to make of his well-spoken new servant girl. Her beauty and charm captivates the military hero; her mysterious nature intrigues him. And the desire she ignites burns brighter with each glance, as does his longing to claim her for his own.

Beatriz can’t resist Tomás’ passion nor deny the heat of her own. But neither the lush countryside nor the walls of the opulent Moorish castle can entirely protect her—and if he were to discover her secret, she could be torn away from him forever. Yet how can she sustain his love if she’s living a lie?

Buy Links (available for preorder – ready to read August 2):

Amazon: http://goo.gl/9lliOE

Amazon CA: http://goo.gl/OQoyKI

BN: http://goo.gl/pajgic

Kobo: https://goo.gl/ZjVJJ2

Books a Million: http://goo.gl/FqvCzl

Penguin-Random House Canada:  http://goo.gl/WsuyMm

Fantastic Fiction: http://goo.gl/uAlGdE

*****

Passionate Pursuit Teaser 3

Excerpt:

The laughter Beatriz had shared earlier seemed a distant memory already. Doom clung to her, tightening her chest, moistening her palms. She paced like a caged animal, knowing she should leave the castle to give Tomás a chance at happiness with another woman.

Her legs went watery, not allowing her to flee. Dizzy, she leaned against the cabinet and breathed hard, trying to think of a solution.

She kept failing.

“Señorita Beatriz,” Yolanda called out.

Beatriz raised her face. “What?”

“Señora Doña Isabella has something she needs you to see.”

Hopefully not another trunk the servants had left in the hall with more gowns and other jewels. She didn’t want to try on anything else but couldn’t stomach being rude, given Isabella’s dear support. Beatriz pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to give herself color. Looking like a corpse wouldn’t solve anything.

Outside the chamber, she reminded herself to smile. What she produced felt more like a grimace.

Yolanda stood on the far side of the landing, gesturing for Beatriz to join her.

The moment she reached the landing, Yolanda motioned for Beatriz to stop, then pointed to the stairs.

She looked down.

The world faded away, tension draining from her shoulders, warmth replacing worry.

Tomás stood at the bottom of the staircase, his arm on the railing, face lifted to hers. Candlelight turned his hair to gold. Respect, friendship, love sparkled in his eyes.

She ran down the steps. Tomás took them two at a time to reach her. They met in the middle and held each other, their embrace more powerful than any spoken vow. Whatever happened in the future, he would always have her love.

*****

About Tina:

Tina is an Amazon and international bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three of her erotic novels (Freeing the Beast, Come and Get Your Love, and Wicked Takeover) were Readers’ Choice Award winners. Another three (Adored, Lush Velvet Nights, and Deep, Dark, Delicious) were named finalists in the EPIC competition. Sensual Stranger, her erotic contemporary romance, was chosen Book of the Year at the French review site Blue Moon reviews. The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for her erotic romance Lush Velvet Nights. Two of her titles (The Yearning and Deep, Dark, Delicious) received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition. Take Me Away and Adored both won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina is featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.

FB Fanpage: https://www.facebook.com/DonahueTina1/

Email: tinadonahuebooks@gmail.com

Website/Blog: http://tinadonahuebooks.blogspot.com/

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1wFmIu6

Twitter: http://bit.ly/1ziy4IU

Facebook: http://on.fb.me/1Dl8DHy

Triberr: http://bit.ly/1CE2ec7

Pinterest: http://bit.ly/1yFLeMx

Amazon author page: http://amzn.to/1ChWFkO

My page at TRR: http://bit.ly/1vb7eEc

EC Author Page: http://bit.ly/1Dh9wor

Samhain Author Page: http://bit.ly/1Bvw6mL

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

Romance Books 4 US: http://bit.ly/1JPtfeS

*****

GIVEAWAY!

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