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Out Now: Jake, by Suzy Shearer @SuzyShearer #BDSM #EroticRomance #MFRWAuthor

We’re delighted to host new-to-us Suzy Shearer, who like us, writes older heroes and heroines. You won’t want to miss the next installment in her Silk Rope Masters Series!

Jake
The Silk Rope Masters – Book Two
by Suzy Shearer

Heat Rating : Level 4
Word Count: 64,579

BUY LINKS

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/jake-by-suzy-shearer
https://www.amzn.com/B07FTHQB8B
https://www.barnesandnoble.com

 

They ooze power, control, natural dominance – and sex. They are The Silk Rope Masters.​

None have ever found love, but watch out! When they fall, they’ll fall fast and hard!

Jake Nichols, 53, was so tall that Emily Miller, 49, had to crane her neck to look into his face. Muscular – he could pick her up in one hand and yet he held her as if she were a fragile bird.​

And that’s exactly what she was, a beautiful plus-sized woman with a pain so deep she’s buried her emotions rather than face the tragedy that happened just a few months ago.​

Jake was assigned to care for her by Master Ash, the head of Silk Rope, and what Jake didn’t expect was to fall in love.

But she was only in his safekeeping until she could fly on her own then he would have to release her.

Be Warned:
BDSM, anal sex, sex toys,
voyeurism, flogging, public exhibition

This is an erotic romance. There are explicit sexual descriptions and explicit language used throughout.
It will offend some readers.

STORY EXCERPT:

So here she was.

It was almost eight on Friday night, and Emily sat nervously in her car in the large car park. Would this be the same as either Threshold or The Lair? She hoped it was. If it was a lower classed place she definitely wouldn’t be coming back. Maybe she could find another club somewhere if that proved to be the case. Still she was hopeful. She couldn’t imagine the manager of The Lair, Bevan Fuller, transferring her to a lesser club.

Then she wondered for the hundredth time, “What the hell am I doing here?”

She still felt numb inside. With every emotion rammed down that hard, Emily couldn’t even cry. She actually knew how foolish she was, knew perfectly well the therapists, her family, were right. Time and again they’d told her she shouldn’t keep everything bottled up, should allow herself to grieve and move on, but she was far too frightened to face her pain.

Her weekly sessions with the therapist consisted of her sitting, staring into her lap or answering in monosyllables and refusing to utter one word about what had happened. In fact, she’d never cried, never shouted, never gotten very angry since that day. As soon as she’d woken in the hospital and given her statement to the police, every emotion, every thought of what had happened—her grief, every single thing, she pushed deep down inside her and refused to look at them. She held them down for so long that now she honestly couldn’t take the chance on remembering.

She was dead, and yet she breathed.

Sometimes in a lighter moment she thought of herself as a zombie. An animated corpse walking amid the living. But mainly Emily thought she was like a well-shaken bottle of soda pop with the lid screwed down tight. A slight twist of the cork and the whole bottle would vigorously explode, its contents scattering everywhere, never to be replaced. She couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk her emotions, couldn’t set them free—the pain would be too great, and Emily knew she couldn’t handle it. She honestly doubted she would survive if at any time she was forced to face her past.

In the back of her mind she knew if she’d grieve, she’d be able to move on and live again, but instead she tortured herself by bottling everything up. This was her only escape now, coming to BDSM clubs—her haven. Sometimes she felt they were all that was left of her life, so at least she could vicariously live through its patrons.

It was strange, but those BDSM clubs now felt more like home than any house possibly could. Inside those doors in front of her she knew what would happen. She knew the rules, and she knew the outcomes. She knew exactly how people would react, how they would be toward her. She could sit and watch and know people would leave her alone unless she indicated she wanted company. No one would expect anything of her, and she could hide in plain sight. It was her secure place, the only one she had, and she knew it would protect her. It really was her safe house—impenetrable, sheltered. All those years she’d spent at Threshold only reinforced the idea. A club was her sanctuary, a place where, even if only for a few hours, she could pretend she was still alive. A place where she could hide among the living.

But at the same time, she wondered, would she ever be able to return to the woman she was?

The one who laughed, who enjoyed life and lived it to the fullest? Or was she destined to remain empty, afraid of showing any sort of emotion, afraid to face her heartache? Terrified of the floodgates she was sure she could never hold back if she allowed one iota of emotion, of agony, of her grief to slip through.

Finally getting out the car, she walked up the stairs that fronted the huge Georgian mansion. Clutching her coat a little tighter, she entered the warm foyer. Behind a desk a large, burly man smiled warmly at her.

“Good evening, Miss.”

“Hello. My name is Emily, Emily Miller. I believe the owner from The Lair, back east, contacted your manager about me transferring from there to here?”

© Suzy Shearer 2018 

 

LINKS – WHERE TO FIND SUZY:                                                         

Website :  http://www.suzyshearer.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SuzyS
Blog:  http://suzyshearer.blogspot.com.au
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/SuzyShearer
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/suzshearer
Twitter : https://twitter.com/SuzyShearer
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/sooziiis
Linkedin: http://au.linkedin.com/in/suzyshearer
Publisher: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/suzy-shearer/
Publisher: http://www.bookstrand.com/suzy-shearer

Email her at: suzyshearer.author@gmail.com

A FEW LINKS WHERE TO BUY:

Amazon: https://www.amzn.com/B07FTHQB8B
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com
Angus and Robertson: https://www.angusrobertson.com.au
Smashwords:  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/882008

BIO:

Renaissance woman, best-selling and Award winning author Suzy Shearer writes contemporary and paranormal erotic romances filled with mature and interesting characters. Her books always feature older heroes and heroines; ranging from mid 40s to 60s. The heroines are usually confident plus-sized women who are proud of their curves. Suzy feels it’s important for readers to connect.

Suzy also wants her readers to understand just because people are older doesn’t mean they aren’t intriguing, desirable, open to challenges and willing to experiment. They may be older but not always wiser. Remember sexy isn’t just for the under 30s.

A Buddhist and artist, Suzy lives in the Western Suburbs of Sydney Australia with one very spoilt dog and two equally spoilt cats keeping her company. When Suzy is not writing, she is usually painting – an accomplished watercolour Artist, her subjects range from portraits and animals to nudes and landscapes. She is also a quilter, toy maker, sculptor and potter. Suzy’s Art

E-BOOKS OUT NOW

The Club series
The Club: Bound
The Club 2: Uncollared
The Club 3: Waxed
The Club 4: Displayed
The Club 5: Submit
The Club 6: Unmasked

The Hunters series
A Hunter’s Heart – Book 1
A Hunter’s Choice – Book 2
A Hunter’s Challenge – Book 3

Dark Desires series
(each book is a standalone)
Whipped Delights
Craving Her Master    
Melting Her Dom’s Heart
An Artist’s Kiss
Elephants and Ever-Afters

The Silk Rope Masters series
Steven
Jake

Single Titles
Daemons Are Forever
Build a Love
Perfect Three
Her Dom’s Secret Past
 

MOST BOOKS ARE ALSO AVAILABLE AS PAPERBACKS

 

Guest Lisabet Sarai: Burn, Baby: A Sapphic Six Pack @LisabetSarai #MFRWAuthor #LGBT #FF

Six-alarm lesbian lust

Blurb


Desire burns hot in these six sizzling tales by Lisabet Sarai. A high-powered executive and a Goth rocker collide on a rainy Manhattan night and succumb to the attraction of opposites. An  unorthodox therapist rekindles the libido of a traumatized fire-fighter.  A nun fights her forbidden lust for the voluptuous hooker resident at her women’s shelter. Burn, Baby includes many of Lisabet’s lesbian favorites as well as a searing, shocking new tale, “Countertransference”.

 

Approximately 26,000 words (75 pages)
Genre: Lesbian erotica – short stories
Heat level: Explicit (5 flames)
ISBN (Smashwords): 9780463292082
ASIN (Amazon):  B07DMYQCH9

Buy Links

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DMYQCH9

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07DMYQCH9

Smashwords:  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/838852

Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/burn-baby-lisabet-sarai/1128902422?ean=2940155289302

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40532328-burn-baby

ONLINE EXCERPT LINK (X rated): http://www.lisabetsarai.com/herowndevicesex.html

Excerpt

From “The First Stone”

“You’re kinda pretty, for a nun.”

The voice was low and throaty, laced with echoes of the ghetto.  It dragged me away from the columns of figures marching down the screen in front of me, out of the well-ordered realm of accounting and into the messiness of our inmates’ lives. Our guests, I corrected myself. Nobody was forced to stay at Serenity House.

“Um — excuse me? Can I help you?”

My interlocutor grinned at me. Her plump, mauve-painted lips framed teeth that were a shocking white in her ebony face. She shook her head. Cheap, brassy earrings dangled from her fleshy lobes, swinging back and forth over her bare shoulders.

“Just wanted to say hi. Oh, an’ to ask if I can stay out past curfew tonight. Heard you were in charge.” She extended a hand tipped with hot pink fingernails. “I’m Magnolia. Me and Moonbeam just got here yesterday.”

November in Boston, two weeks before Thanksgiving, but Magnolia’s skin felt August-hot. The woman’s breasts almost overflowed the sequined tube top that constrained them. Below, she wore baggy sweatpants with a Celtics logo that didn’t hide her more than ample curves. Her feet were crammed into open-toed high heels of scuffed gold-toned plastic. She towered over me. I felt pretty sure that would be true even if I were standing.

“Moonbeam?” Confronted by this apparition, I couldn’t seem to manage more than a couple of words.

“My kid.” Magnolia indicated a diminutive toddler with kinky pigtails, sprawled on the floor of the common room, surrounded by alphabet blocks. Hard to believe that delicate child was the offspring of this Amazon.

“Ah — um — well, you’re very welcome here, Magnolia. We’re glad to have you with us.” I struggled for the warm yet professional manner I’d learned to adopt with our guests. Rising from my chair, I gave her hand a firm squeeze before relinquishing it. My skin tingled in the aftermath. I’d been right; she stood half a head taller than my five feet six inches, and probably weighed nearly twice what I did. “Have a seat, please. I’m Sister Kathleen Patrick, the assistant director. But I guess you know that.”

She settled her bottom into the chair I’d indicated. “Yeah, the other gals told me. Pleased to meet you, Sister.” Her plucked eyebrows knotted into a frown. “That what I should call you? I ain’t had much experience with nuns.”

Her obvious concern made me chuckle. “’Sister’ would be fine. Or you can just call me Kathleen. We don’t stand on ceremony here at Serenity House.”

“Not like at Baystate Rehab. You forget to call one of the nurses ‘Miz’ or ‘Mister’, you lose privs for twenty-four hours.” She swiped the back of her hand across her brown forehead, which was beaded with sweat. The woman must have a furnace inside.

There was something lush and tropical about Magnolia. Her name fit her. She seemed totally out of place in this shabby office lit by the unrelenting gray of the late autumn sky. I could imagine her wrapped in a rainbow-hued sarong, dancing barefoot on a beach beneath swaying palms. Or swimming naked through the waves under a golden moon…

I hauled my thoughts back to the present. “Is that where you’ve just come from?” Not all our guests had substance abuse problems, but it was pretty common.

“Escaped is more like it.” She giggled. “This place’s like heaven after Bayhab. Six fucking weeks — oh, sorry, Sister — I mean, six long weeks in that hellhole! Away from my baby, too.  ‘Course, I deserved it. All the junk I pumped into my veins, not thinkin’ about who’d care for her if something happened to me. Then the OD — I really fucked up. Oh, I’m sorry, Sister!”

“Never mind. So you’ve made yourself comfortable, then? You’re happy with your room?”

Yesterday had been my day off. Rachel must have done the intake. I reminded myself to check Magnolia’s file after she’d left the office.

“It’s great. I’m sharing with Lou-Ellen and her little boy. He’s only a couple months older than Moonbeam.  Food’s good, too.” She flashed me another grin and glanced down at her generous body. “Not that I need it!”

Her laughter kindled mine. Our eyes met. Hers were espresso-brown, practically black, fringed with mascara-augmented lashes. They snagged me like magnets.

Something jolted through me — a lightning strike, a sudden storm, some personal earthquake. The floor dropped out from under my chair and I found myself suspended in space. My breath caught in my throat and perspiration soaked the armpits of my gray wool sweater. I’d been chilly before — we tried to stretch our donor’s generosity as far as possible — but now I burned. I couldn’t tear myself away from her gaze, though I knew I’d been staring far too long.

 

About Lisabet Sarai

 

LISABET SARAI writes in many genres, but F/F fiction is one of her favorites. Her lesbian erotica credits include contributions to Lambda Award winner Where the Girls Are, Ippie-winning Carnal Machines, Best Lesbian Romance 2012, Forbidden Fruit: Stories of Unwise Lesbian  Desire,  and Lammy-nominated Coming Together: Girl on Girl. Her story “The Late Show” appears in the recently released Best Lesbian Erotica 2015.

 

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

 

 

 

New Release – Blue Moon House 8: The Beginning #BlueMoonHouse #BDSM #vampire #paranormal #cinderella #erotica #dark

The 8th Blue Moon House Prequel 

Available now!
Amazon – iBooks – Nook 
Find out how each of the characters
became a member. 
Read the trials and tribulations,
the kinky sexual acts, 
and wickedly wonderful ways
required for entry. 
Discover what the big secret
is all about. 
What would you do to find a family after
yours was burned to ash?
Sophia is on the run. A newly reborn
vampire, she finds herself alone after an attack on her home. Running across
Europe, she seeks a place to hide, and eventually, a place to fit in. She
happens upon three adult sisters, orphaned and down on luck. If she can help
them succeed, she might find her own success as well.
How much pain could you stand
to help a friend?
Don’t miss each new book by Angelica Dawson as she takes you back to where it all began…
Where does a vampire really fit, anyway?
Ready for a scorching excerpt?
Arriving at Stephan’s tiny home, Sophia was relieved to find he, at least, was what she had taken him for, a young man starting off on his own. He released her arm to take her hand and pull her inside. She pretended to stumble and fall into him. He quickly put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her.
His hands didn’t move, but Luke’s did, sliding over her skirt and slowly hiking it up. His rough fingertips seemed to burn as they slid up her leg. He pressed into her from behind, pinning her between himself and Stephan.
Stephan broke the kiss just long enough to say. “You will stop us—”
“Don’t stop,” Sophia gasped, pulling Stephan’s face to her bosom. Luke worked her skirt up and his trousers down. She felt him hard between her buttocks and she rocked into him.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, “and so wet.”
She kissed the top of Stephan’s head and then his ear, nipping it with her sharp teeth to open a small gash that she sucked until it closed. Before it did, the men had manipulated her and her clothing to their advantage, the loose laces of her dress opening for her breasts in front. Stephan held one, his thumb brushing her nipple, while he suckled the other.
Luke wasted no time penetrating her and his thrusts made her breasts bob in Stephan’s hand and face. Her breasts were aflame at the light brushing of his fingertips and lips and she started to squeeze Luke inside her.
Stephan moved his hands lower, taking up her dress where it was bunched and pulling it off entirely. Luke reluctantly let go long enough to remove the garment. Sophia dropped to her feet and then knees, taking Luke in her hand and grabbing for Stephan as soon as he freed himself. She sucked one cock while stroking the other, switching often and reveling in the sounds each man made.
Her own need grew as each man approached his own climax. Luke pulled her up, wrapped her legs around his waist and thrust into her roughly. Her head fell back in ecstasy as he filled her. Stephan’s arm wrapped around under her arms and over her breasts. Her head came to rest on his shoulder as Luke drove his cock in and out of her at a fever pitch. He wouldn’t last long, despite how desperately she wanted him to continue all night.
Stephan kissed and licked along her neck and she closed her eyes, turning her head to put her nose into his hair, under his ear. His cock left a hot sticky trail along her lower back and she knew in a few moments it would be his turn to fill her.
Angelica Dawson, USA Today best selling Naughty Nights Press author, has been writing for several years and having sex a lot longer than that. Angelica is a wife, mother and environmental consultant. Her love of plants and the outdoors is not diminished by the bloodsucking hoards — mosquitoes and black flies, not vampires.
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