Blog

New Release! The Slut Strikes Back: #MILF #Erotica By Lisabet Sarai #HotRead @LisabetSarai

Triple-X MILF Erotica, Happy Ending

27,000 words, 81 pages

Smashwords and Amazon KDP

ISBN (Smashwords): 9781005813741

ASIN: B08CFRJSTM

Anyone

is

Fair

Game

Blurb

“Find someone else to satisfy your needs.”

When her husband complains about her constant sexual demands, MILF Lauren Gordon is shocked and hurt – and determined to act on his instructions.

Lauren has never strayed outside the bounds of her marriage, but now that she has permission, she unleashes her voracious libido on her gorgeous girlfriend next door, the UPS delivery man, and anyone else who strikes her fancy.

Her husband called her a slut in order to shame her. Lauren wears the title with pride. When he comes home to find her gang banging her son’s buddies from the college wrestling team, he realizes he’s made a huge mistake. He wants his slutty wife back. But once you’ve freed the genie, you can’t put it back in the bottle.

If you love wild adventures of wanton women, you’ll love The Slut Strikes Back.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/8791-the-slut-strikes-back-milf-erotica/

Amazon  US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08CFRJSTM

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08CFRJSTM

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1031285

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-slut-strikes-back-lisabet-sarai/1137303515?ean=2940164132507

Kobo –  https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/the-slut-strikes-back-milf-erotica

Add on Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/54428619-the-slut-strikes-back

Online Excerpt

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2020/07/my-latest-erotic-romp-is-available-for.html

EXCERPT

They huddled together, laughing and chatting, obviously good friends. She couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but the lovely, rolling cadence of their speech made her shiver. Shades of Michael Caine and Sean Connery! She’d always found an English accent devastatingly sexy. She squirmed on her leather seat, aware that her minuscule silken panties were well on their way to being soaked.

Nikki set down their single malts, in sparkling crystal glasses. Lauren couldn’t see how much of a tip they gave her, but her broad smile suggested they’d been magnanimous. Crossing one leg over the other, Lauren gave the barkeeper a come-hither gesture. “Another daiquiri, please,” she called.

The two men gazed in her direction, seeming to notice her for the first time. The dark one’s eyebrows shot up as he took in her generous curves, trim thighs and shapely calves. The red-head gave her a wolfish grin. She reached for her glass to drain the last bit of tartness, knowing that the gesture made her breasts shift under her form-fitting dress. Then she leaned over to fiddle with the buckle on her shoe, giving them both a clear view of her sun-tanned cleavage.

None of this was calculated. She wasn’t consciously trying to turn them on. They were watching her; it seemed natural to put on a bit of a show.

The shorter guy waved at Nikki. “Add her drink to our bill, please,” he said, staring straight into Lauren’s eyes.

She liked his boldness. “Why, thank you!” Slipping off her stool, she made her way down the bar, swinging her hips and flipping her long hair back over her shoulder. She settled her butt on the tall chair next to the man with glasses and set her purse on the polished wood surface. “That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s our pleasure.” The dark-haired member of the pair held out his hand. “I’m James.” He had big hands and a powerful grip.

Lauren couldn’t help wondering if he was big everywhere. The erotic potential of this encounter was already clear to her. Her mind running fast-forward, she saw herself sandwiched between these two delightful males. Her pulse jumped and new moisture dampened her already sodden thong.

“Lauren,” she replied, then stopped herself. Should she be using a false name? But why bother? Elliott had called her a slut, and he’d been right. She wasn’t ashamed of who she was. Far from it.

The shorter man licked his lips. “Phillip Worthington,” he said. “At your service.”

She liked that notion. Her vigorous nod caused her unfettered breasts to bounce. Their eyes followed every movement. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I gather you’re visiting LA.”

“We’re here for the IPI conference,” James replied, obviously struggling to look at her face rather than her tits. “Indie Publishers International.”

“Oh! You’re authors?” Brains as well as beauty!

“Phil’s the author.”

“Mysteries and thrillers, mostly,” Phillip added. “As P.J. Worthington.”

“I own a small press in London,” James continued. “Haversham Books. But I don’t imagine you’ve ever heard of us.” He drained his Scotch and signaled to Nikki. “Another round, please.”

“Meanwhile, why don’t you sit between us, Lauren?”  Phillip suggested. “That way we can share you.”

Even with the subdued lighting, Lauren caught the devilish twinkle in his eye. “Lovely idea,” she agreed. They shuffled about, until the two Englishmen bracketed her chair. She gazed from one handsome man to the other, then lifted her third cocktail. “Cheers!”

About Lisabet

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

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

 

Would you be shocked? Ellen was…#NewRelease #Erotic Romance #MFRWsteam

Welcome to the MFRW Steam Hop! If you like your romance hot and spicy, this is the place for you. Click on the graphic to link to all the steamy posts.

Through the Lens by Adriana Kraft

~ Erotic Menage Romance ~

We thought we’d share a little about how this book came to be. Are you a fan of Impressionist art? We are, and when we lived in Minnesota, we spent a day at the Minneapolis Institute of Art exploring its collection.

We want you to put yourself in the mind of our character, Ellen Jeffers – a third grade teacher from the plains of South Dakota – when she walks into one of the exhibit rooms and sees this painting, Caillebotte’s Nude on a Couch – six feet wide and a little over four feet tall.

You’re right, she freaks. Not a good thing. She’s in the middle of a tour conducted by the art academy teacher she’s assisting for the summer. And she doesn’t keep her mouth shut. In front of him and their students. Here’s the scene:

EXCERPT

“Isn’t that the most lewd, despicable painting you’ve ever seen?”

Aaron looked up sharply from his notes. He hadn’t even begun to talk about one of his favorite Impressionist paintings—Caillebotte’s Nude on a Couch.

Ellen was standing with her arms crossed under her breasts, glaring with disdain at the painting.

“What’s your problem, Ms. Jeffers?” He’d purposely called her Ms. Jeffers to try to snap her out of her tirade, but with little success.

“It’s so huge. The woman is begging for attention, for sex. The painting must be life size. No wonder it’s under glass. Someone might claw it to pieces.”

Aaron gulped, trying to hold himself in check. Who would even think of such a thing happening? “This is one of Caillebotte’s most famous paintings. We’re quite fortunate to have it here.”

“I’ve never heard of Caillebotte. He must be a third rank Impressionist.”

“Well, you’re wrong, Ms. Jeffers.” Aaron saw Tina grab Ellen’s arm to warn her, but Ellen pulled away. “Caillebotte was not only an impressionist of the first rank—it was through his financial support and considerable influence that the group was able to attain recognition and stature in its own time. What is your problem? We looked at other nudes in the last corridor, and you didn’t begin to flip out.”

Looking at least somewhat chastened, Ellen sniffed, seemingly unable or unwilling to let it drop. “The others weren’t in our face. She’s too bold. Good grief, she’s playing with a nipple. She’s trying to seduce us.” Her eyes widened. “She must’ve been a prostitute. Only such women would’ve posed like that during that era of French history.”

“And you know that for a fact?”

“It was the custom of the time. Upper-class women wouldn’t go out unchaperoned.”

“Do tell.” He gathered himself as best he could. “That might’ve been the norm at the time, but even the upper class of the Victorian era had its libertine members. There are plenty of accounts in England and France of upper-class ladies being escorted to a rendezvous with a paramour by a maid or manservant. After successfully completing her liaison, the woman would be escorted back to her house to await her husband as he returned from another lover’s arms. Does that upset your sensibilities, Ms. Jeffers?”

To her credit, Ellen kept her lips tightly sealed and this time did not shake off Tina’s supporting hand. She shook her head, but he knew everyone knew she was lying. According to what he knew, the woman in the portrait had become Caillebotte’s mistress. There remained some debate whether she’d been a prostitute. Many models of that period were, but he wasn’t about to let Ellen know he was aware of that. “Our reclining nude might’ve been a woman of the working class trying to put food on the table. Had you thought of that possibility?”

BUY LINKS

Extasy Books  Amazon

BLURB

Prairie roots can be deceptive. Will Ellen Jeffers cling to the sedate past that’s familiar, or will she embrace a different version of her history—one that includes tragedy, scandal, fortitude, and freedom?

It’s 2002, and South Dakota third grade teacher Ellen Jeffers has signed up for a photography summer course and assistantship at an art academy in Minneapolis. Thirty-three, divorced from her college boyfriend for nearly a decade, she’s not seeking major change. She just hopes the course will enhance her teaching skills and her resume.

Aaron Brewster comes from privilege, and he has used that status to flaunt his family’s values and carve out a successful career as a photographer specializing in black and white erotic portraiture. Has he ever loved? His love is for beauty, sensuality, eroticism. His new uptight teaching assistant will never fit that vision. Should he send her packing? For reasons he cannot fathom, he takes her on as a challenge.

Aaron’s frontal assault shocks Ellen, but it also triggers something deep inside she’s never been willing to acknowledge. Is her beloved prairie a safe refuge, or will it become a crucible for transformation? The choice is not merely Ellen’s.

 

New Release! Through The Lens #Romance #MFRWAuthor #Prairie

What do you think of when you see the word prairie? Wide open spaces? Tall grasses? Early prairie settlers and their sod houses? All this and more are wrapped into our heroine, Ellen Jeffers, but she’s about to undergo a seismic shift.

We spent time in the Dakota prairie researching this book long before we began writing it. Here’s an excerpt from a blog I posted then:

I’m writing this from South Dakota, where we’re currently in the early research stages of two new WIP’s set in the tall grass prairie. I love this stage of the work. Even before we’ve developed character sketches and plot outlines, we talk over the places we’d like to set our next works and share what draws us to them. We like to ground our work in its geography, so we get to know our setting intimately and deeply. We’ve never set a work in a place we haven’t been.

Prairie speaks to me. I can hardly find words for the visceral response I felt when we crossed into South Dakota last week and I saw the tall tipi skeleton that decorates each Dakota rest area on I-90—but I’ll have to try. Our job will be to set that feeling on the page in a character’s body, to pull that feeling into the reader’s direct experience.

BLURB

Prairie roots can be deceptive. Will Ellen Jeffers cling to the sedate past that’s familiar, or will she embrace a different version of her history—one that includes tragedy, scandal, fortitude, and freedom?

It’s 2002, and South Dakota third grade teacher Ellen Jeffers has signed up for a photography summer course and assistantship at an art academy in Minneapolis. Thirty-three, divorced from her college boyfriend for nearly a decade, she’s not seeking major change. She just hopes the course will enhance her teaching skills and her resume.

Aaron Brewster comes from privilege, and he has used that status to flaunt his family’s values and carve out a successful career as a photographer specializing in black and white erotic portraiture. Has he ever loved? His love is for beauty, sensuality, eroticism. His new uptight teaching assistant will never fit that vision. Should he send her packing? For reasons he cannot fathom, he takes her on as a challenge.

Aaron’s frontal assault shocks Ellen, but it also triggers something deep inside she’s never been willing to acknowledge. Is her beloved prairie a safe refuge, or will it become a crucible for transformation? The choice is not merely Ellen’s.

BUY LINKS

Extasy Books  Amazon

EXCERPT

Ellen has arranged a photo shoot with Aaron on the open prairie, where her ancestors homesteaded. The original sod house still stands.

“Uncle Jim asked that we not try to go in,” Ellen said, walking around the old soddy. “I can understand why. He’s looking into how he can shore it up without damaging the walls more.”

“It’s an amazing structure,” Aaron said. “Baked by wind and sun, I guess. I’ve seen adobe of the southwest, but I’ve never seen anything like this. Looks like caked mud, grasses, and I don’t know what else.”

“Anything that might stick together. I know the roof has undergone repair, probably several times. I don’t know about the walls. They’re very thick.”

“You’ve been in the house?”

“When I was a little girl, and then my mother brought me out here when I was fourteen to explain Clarissa to me.”

“That must’ve been fascinating.”

“It was. I already knew much of the story, but not all of it.”

“And this is her place.”

“The original soddy. The wood house she and Hazel built didn’t last, but this structure did. Ironic, huh?”

“Amazing. And she would’ve used most of these things your mother collected for the shoot.”

“That’s right. These, or others like them.” Ellen ran fingers over the spinning wheel. “This wheel was hers. The flail comes down from her. The hurricane lamps probably don’t. There’s an old butter churn. I don’t know its history. But they’re all authentic pieces. None of them are replicas.”

“Very good.”

“You do have a passion for authenticity.” She stepped across the baked ground to squeeze his arm. “That must go along with trying to be original and wanting to be first.” She studied him thoughtfully.

He held her gaze.

“Neither one of us seems eager to talk about last night.”

He shrugged. “Maybe we’re afraid if we do, it will evaporate like a mirage.”

 
© 2020 Adriana Kraft. All Rights Reserved.
%d bloggers like this: