Out Now in eBook and Audio—Lottery Losers by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #romance #steamy #SupportIA #IARTG
I fell in love with this fun story when it came out in a boxed set earlier this year – now it’s available as a stand-alone, and I know you’ll love it, too! I’m always happy to see romance re-kindled in a married couple (well, and sizzling sex doesn’t hurt, either!).
Winning the lottery is a dream come true… isn’t it?
Susie Parmenter and her husband of almost twenty years, Peter, are lottery jackpot winners. They’ve been able to do everything they’ve ever dreamed of—quit their jobs, design and build their perfect home, buy expensive cars, travel the world… So why is Susie bored out of her mind? She thought being a lady of leisure would be amazing, but unfortunately the reality is far from amazing. How can she possibly tell anyone that, though?
Climbing the walls, sinking deeper into irritation and misery, Susie can’t see a way forward. But what she’s not betting on is that Peter has noticed his beloved wife isn’t happy. And he’s taken steps—drastic steps—to turn things around. But will they live to tell the tale?
Note: Lottery Losers was previously published in the Love Me Hard boxed set.
All eBook and audio buy links here: https://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/lottery-losers/
Add to your Goodreads shelves: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40233468-lottery-losers
Susie Parmenter let out a heavy sigh and closed her book, then put it down on the table beside her. She closed her eyes and let her head loll back on her shoulders, enjoying the warmth of the summer sunshine on her skin, which was pleasant but not too hot. It wasn’t the book that was boring her—under normal circumstances, she’d have been riveted by the crime fiction novel featuring a hunky lead detective—it was life. Just lately, her world had become so dull, so predictable, that she just couldn’t summon any enthusiasm for anything.
The worst of it was, she couldn’t tell anyone. It was a problem so utterly first world it was embarrassing. Humiliating, even. Admitting her permanent state of apathy would be ridiculous, and she doubted anyone would understand where she was coming from, anyway. After all, how could you possibly tell your friends, your family, your husband, that you were bored out of your damn mind when you had, quite literally, everything? Since winning a lottery jackpot twelve months ago, Susie and her husband, Peter, had had their worlds turned completely upside down.
At first, of course, it had been amazing. They had won more than enough money to live incredibly lavish lifestyles for the remainder of their years—even if they lived to be very old indeed. So, once the cash was safely in the bank, they’d quit their jobs. Then they’d taken off on an incredible round-the-world trip, spending much of their travel time plotting and planning what else they were going to spend their winnings on. By the time they arrived home, they were ready to hire an architect to draw up plans for a custom-build home. Another two weeks later, they’d found and purchased the plot of land, and were talking to builders. Things moved fast—but then, Susie had found that was often the case when large sums of money were involved.
Now their dream home was complete. It was, naturally, stunning. The huge house stood high on a hillside in the Derbyshire countryside, with only a handful of other properties in sight. It was situated so that from one side of the house, you could watch the sun rise in the morning, and from the other, you could watch it set in the evening. There was a covered and heated swimming pool, a Jacuzzi, a sauna, a gym, a home cinema… everything a person could possibly need or want, and then some.
They employed a cleaner and a gardener, so aside from cooking meals three times a day—if they didn’t eat out or order takeaway, that was—there was nothing to do around the house. Susie had moved the furniture umpteen times, which was a novelty at first, given their old house had been so small that every single item had a place that it fitted into—barely, in some cases—and that was that. She now found herself swapping pictures around and tweaking the positions of ornaments on a regular basis, often putting them back where they’d been to start with.
She’d gotten into a routine of using the pool, gym, and sauna every morning, but that still left hours and hours of the day just waiting to be filled.
It was all right for Peter—he might have ditched his job, but these days his time was divided between playing golf, and being involved in a bunch of stuffy business boards. She didn’t really understand what he did at the meetings, if she was honest, but it didn’t matter. What did matter was that, only weeks after moving in to their beautiful new home, Susie’s boredom was at fever pitch. She was climbing the walls. Surely even board meetings were more exciting than this?
Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller), The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight and The Heiress’s Harem series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Join her Facebook group for exclusive cover reveals, sneak peeks and more! Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter here: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter
Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.
Welcome to MidWeek Tease, where authors share tempting snippets to tide you over till the weekend. A huge shout out to author Angelica Dawson for hosting our blog hop every week!
Happy Fourth of July! We thought we’d add a little summer heat today, ever mindful of the liberties we enjoy.
Paul gathered Jen into his arms for a long hug. “You both look scrumptious. Good enough to eat. Right, Brett?”
Brett nodded. Jen noticed Kim made no move to break away from Brett’s arms. She watched the olive-skinned woman drag her lips across Brett’s wrist before lifting it up and sliding onto the curved bench.
Jen slid in from the other side, with the guys sitting on either end. A bare leg brushed against her left leg, a trousered one against her right. If those legs were meant to only tease, she’d be very, very upset.
Hot to the Touch (Swinging Games, Book 15)
Can the summer get any hotter? Escaping Southern Indiana summer heat, swingers Brett and Jen check out a Minnesota clothing optional RV resort, where the rules are very different from the swing lifestyle venues they’re used to. When they spot a hot looking couple in the swimming pool, they’re definitely interested, but they know better than to make the first move. Will Paul and Kim turn out to be players, or will Brett and Jen get a cold shoulder?
~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~
Be sure to check out the rest of the Midweek teases from these marvelous authors:
Six-alarm lesbian lust
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
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DMYQCH9
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07DMYQCH9
ONLINE EXCERPT LINK (X rated): http://www.lisabetsarai.com/herowndevicesex.html
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).