Do you love reverse harem romances? Love Christmas books? Then check out Moonstone!
Moonstone is a standalone contemporary reverse harem romance, which is part of the Jewels Café series—all of which can be read as standalones.
Christmas gifts aren’t the only surprises Ginny is going to get this year.
Moonstone Guinevere ‘Ginny’ Miles is in Silver Springs visiting her parents for the holidays. They moved to the town five years ago, and adore their new life here. Used to the hustle and bustle of London, England, Ginny isn’t convinced at first—what’s so great about a small town in Upstate New York, anyway? Despite her own opinions, it’s clear to Ginny the move has done her parents the world of good—they look years younger. There’s clearly something magical about this town.
Following some exploration of her own, Ginny discovers Silver Springs has its charms—Jewels Cafe is amazing, for starters, as is its pumpkin spice latte. Ginny’s drunk a lot of lattes in her thirty-three years, but nothing quite like this.
Her taste buds are still tingling from the tasty treat when she comes across a broken-down truck on the way back to her parents’ place. And when she spots the three gorgeous guys with the vehicle, it’s not just her taste buds that are tingling.
Is Ginny’s vacation in Silver Springs about to get a whole lot more interesting?
Buy now or read in Kindle Unlimited: http://books2read.com/moonstoneJC
Add to your Goodreads shelves: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48280273-moonstone
Moonstone Guinevere Miles—known as Ginny to people who didn’t want to incur her fierce and everlasting wrath—heaved her suitcase off the luggage reclaim belt with an “Oof!” and placed it on the floor, a sigh of relief escaping her. At least the thing had wheels—she didn’t really have the energy for carrying a heavy suitcase all the way through Customs and out to Arrivals. The long, tiring flight had seen to that. No matter how much she tried, no matter how exhausted she was, she simply could not fall asleep on a plane. Ever. Eye mask, ear plugs, meditation, bloody whale music—nothing helped. She’d long since resigned herself to staying awake while snores from other passengers emanated around the cabin. At least it had only been about seven and a half hours since taking off from Heathrow—she couldn’t imagine what state she’d be in if she ever flew any longer than that—to Australia, New Zealand or somewhere.
Doubtful that would ever happen, though. It had taken long enough for her to get her backside out to the east coast of America, where her parents had been running a retreat since retiring five years ago. But then, things were different now, weren’t they? Which was why she was even here in the first place—it wouldn’t have been possible otherwise.
Thinking of her parents brought an inevitable smile to her face, and inserted a little more spring in her step. Despite the energy and mood suck that had been the flight, she was excited to be here. She was eager to see her parents, and to find out exactly what they’d built up over the last five years. She’d seen photos and videos, but it wasn’t the same as actually being there.
When they’d first announced they were using their retirement nest egg to open a retreat in Upstate New York, she’d been floored. Who the hell retires, only to take on a massive project like that? Surely the whole point of retiring is to wind down, enjoy some free time, relax? But no, her mum and dad—who, to be fair, had never been what one would call conventional—had set their hearts on it. They’d had a huge purge of their belongings, sold their cars and house, and jetted off across the pond, leaving Ginny shocked and not a little bereft. She’d been so used to having them close by and had quickly realized just how much she’d taken that for granted.
At the same time, her own career had taken off and she’d become so busy that her parents’ sudden distance hadn’t made the blindest bit of difference. She barely saw the inside of her own flat, never mind her friends and family. This was the first Christmas she’d had off work since then, too, and she was looking forward to spending it with her parents more than she could put into words. They’d been big on the festive period ever since she was a baby, and as such, Ginny’s brain was stuffed full of warm, fuzzy memories of Christmases past. They’d been useful to get her through the last five crappy ones, too, where a microwaved ready meal was the best she could hope for, if she hadn’t managed to wangle a free meal from the place she’d been working at at the time.
Her smile widened, and she walked faster still—God, just how big was this bloody airport?—desperate to see her mum and dad and start the Christmas holiday with a bang. Anticipation rushed through her. They’d have turkey and roast potatoes, pigs in blankets, mounds of vegetables, desserts laden with enough calories to last them until Valentine’s Day, Christmas carols, amazing decorations, a beautiful tree, fairy lights…
And Santa Claus. Two of them, in fact, jumping up and down enthusiastically and waving wildly at her, with not a rotund belly in sight.
Ginny was so excited, she couldn’t even be bothered with the embarrassment she might have felt at being greeted in a public place by her parents dressed up in Santa outfits. Plus, nobody knew her here anyway, so who cared?
She scurried around the barrier, almost flipping her case in her haste to turn a corner, then covered the remaining distance between them in seconds flat and released the handle of her suitcase. A series of squeals and exclamations went up—from all three of them—and then everything went dark as Ginny was enveloped in a warm, fluffy embrace, her face crushed up against what she suspected was the white fur trim on her mother’s jacket, and kisses rained down on her. It was all she could do to suck in oxygen as she was squeezed and squeezed them right back. She was assailed by the scents of clean clothes, shampoo, perfume, and cologne—all perfectly lovely smells by themselves, but somewhat overwhelming all at once. Unintelligible murmurings reached her ears, but she didn’t bother to reply since she had no idea what was being said. And she didn’t need words, anyway. All she needed at that moment in time was to soak up the enormous outpouring of love she was experiencing.
She was so bloody happy, she thought she might pop.
Eventually, her parents loosened their hold enough so she could step back and actually look at them. She took in her father’s handsome face, his steel-gray hair—or what she could see beneath the hat, at least—his wide grin, and her mother’s long, light gray, waist-length plaits, the glint in her eyes and the glow of her skin.
“Guys, you look fantastic! If this is what retirement does for you, I think I might sign up now.”
Her mother, Deborah, gave a nonchalant shrug—which, given her attire, was way more amusing than it should have been. “What can I say, sweetheart? I feel fantastic. I’ve got so much more energy than I ever had in London, even when I was much younger.” She shrugged again. “It’s the retreat, I’m sure of it—the moment your father and I first set foot there all those years ago, I felt there was something magical about it. Silver Springs is the most wonderful little town, and we’re lucky enough to live and work in the most spectacular part of it—though it hardly feels like work.”
Ginny gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, then turned to her father, Charlie. “And you, Dad? You look twenty years younger, but how do you feel?”
His face took on a beatific expression. “The same as your mother, kiddo. Exactly the same. If I’d known just how wonderful it would be, I’d have thrown in the towel and moved out here years ago. Decades, even.” He grabbed the handle of Ginny’s case in one hand, then looped the other around her neck and pulled her in to drop a kiss on her chin-length blonde hair, which he then ruffled. “I’m so thrilled you’re here, Moony. You’re going to love it in Silver Springs. Just love it! Come on, let’s get going. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, and the weather’s on the turn.”
Ginny bit back comments on both his use of her childhood nickname, and his messing up of her hair. She didn’t want to dampen the almost euphoric mood that seemed to float between the three of them—a combination of being pleased to see each other, and her parents’ obvious appreciation of their new home. Though five years was hardly new anymore, was it? She really should have visited before now, but the circumstances had been impossible. Now they weren’t, and she was here, in the bosom of her family, at Christmas time, and it was going to be magical.
And, at some point, she’d enlighten her parents about the fact she had nothing in particular to rush home for, either. But that could wait. No need to burst the happy, everything-is-perfect bubble just yet. She’d let them all enjoy their first Christmas together in years before thinking about that.
They made their way out of the airport building. The cold air slapped Ginny in the face, momentarily taking her breath. Her slight gasp drew her mother’s keen eye. “I hope you listened to me, sweetheart, and brought warm clothes with you. It’s even colder up in Silver Springs, you know.”
“The car’s not far,” her dad piped up. “I’ll get the heating on as soon as we’re inside, and we’ll soon have you snug as a bug in a rug.” He tipped her a wink, and warmth flooded her veins. She hadn’t realized until now just how much she’d missed her wacky yet lovable parents. They might be unconventional, but they’d given her a wonderful childhood. When she’d reached adulthood, they’d remained incredibly close, with them managing to achieve the perfect balance of loving and supportive without being controlling. They’d let her forge her own path, make her own mistakes, and had been there to help pick up the pieces without uttering so much as a “I told you so.”
They’d definitely earned this idyllic new life they’d carved out for themselves, and she couldn’t wait to experience it for herself, if only for a little while. Though she wasn’t sure how much fun there was to be had in the back end of beyond. It was hardly going to be lively. Perhaps it was a good thing she was only here for an extended holiday.
Buy now or read in Kindle Unlimited: http://books2read.com/moonstoneJC
Add to your Goodreads shelves: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48280273-moonstone
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
organised by Writer
A romantic, near-future, New Year’s adventure
by Fiona Lehn
The lives of several couples and singles intertwine as they struggle to keep their relationships and careers on track. Set during a hectic three days leading up to the world’s first tourist space cruise launch on New Year’s Eve in White Rock, British Columbia.
From Writers of the Future winner Fiona Lehn comes a heart-warming, holiday-themed speculative novella, Lift-Off!
The world’s first tourist space cruise launches from the International Spaceport in White Rock, British Columbia, on New Year’s Eve. 100 free cruise tickets are hidden all over North America. You have three days left to find one. Would you…
Break and enter? Risk a billion-dollar inheritance? Betray the love of your life?
It’s a random universe. While millions around the globe celebrate the Quicksilver spaceliner’s impending launch, a handful of our heroes struggle to achieve their most stellar dreams.
One of them is a methane heiress desperate for a free ticket. Another is a newscaster digging for a killer scoop. And another is a veteran astronaut who’s never been in space.
There are more—tween twins attempt a secret mission, a star is almost born—and everyone is trying to get to the launch before the Quicksilver, you know, launches.
A lot can happen in a random universe. Do-gooders become saboteurs, cowards muster courage, and loners find love. Who will crash and who will soar? The clock is counting down to one moment that will change everything: Lift-Off!
buy now at Devine Destinies: https://www.devinedestinies.com/fiona-lehn/
buy at Amazon after December 27, 2019, release: https://www.amazon.com/Fiona-Lehn/e/B00JJ1VLSQ?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2&qid=1576772904&sr=8-2
The pipe fly–no, she should address him with respect. After all, he was doing so with her. Waste Reclamation Worker Starski, then, was a lean five and a half feet. Wavy brown hair stuck out from his hood, his eyes were light grey-blue, and his lips were perfectly-formed…rose-tinted…magnetic, smooth, soft, luscious looking–
“Everything okay?” Starski asked. “Besides waking up here, that is.”
Estelle blinked, extra long. She had been staring at his lips. What was wrong with her? Had he noticed? She took another gander, to prove to her eyes that his lips were nothing special. They were simply divine…glistening as if painted with drops of Jupiter–
Stop that. What was happening? Could the drug her kidnapper used have killed off hundreds, or thousands of brain cells? She stepped back. Dizziness and nausea sloshed through her. She clutched at his arm for support. “Sorry. I’m not usually swoony.”
“You probably need some food and–”
A red light above the door starting flashing.
He checked his watch. “Right on time. They’ll take you someplace worse. Come on!” He trotted to the mess of pipes.
Estelle pointed at the door, “Isn’t that the only exit?”
“Yep, and it’s goon-saturated,” he said. “We go along these pipes. You’ll be safe. Nobody knows the tunnels down here in the guts of the building, except us. That’s why you call us pipe flies.”
Estelle’s cheeks flushed. “You know that?”
No response. She could answer her own question. The light above the door stopped flashing. “We need to go now,” he said. “Trust me.”
Estelle had learned long ago that trust was suicide, but this wasn’t exactly the corp world, and at the moment she didn’t have much choice. “Let’s go,” she said.
Little is known about reclusive writer Fiona Lehn, but legends abound. Some claim she emerged from her mother’s womb singing “We Are the Champions”, a half-written story clenched in her angry fists.
Many believe she is serving life without parole for leading an Ottawa sit-in demanding that cloudberries be made one of the four food groups. Others tell that Lehn daily frolics with Sasquatch in glacier-fed slipstreams. Still more assert that Lehn will only answer to “Hermit FiFi” and wields a bedazzled staff like a weapon, fending off house-size mosquitoes and meteorites with a single blow.
All we really know is this: Lehn lives in Canada and has ME/CFS. She creates stories and songs and lovingly serves a Feline in perpetuity. Visit her at https://www.facebook.com/FiFiHermitage/
New from Lisabet Sarai – Cherry Pie and Mistletoe, A Mature Holiday Romance @lisabetsarai #MFRWAuthor #eroticromance
Some Christmas traditions
improve with age
Cherry Pie and Mistletoe
A Mature Holiday Romance
By Lisabet Sarai
At ten thirty on a stormy Christmas Eve, I really didn’t expect any business, but the sign for our diner out on the highway reads “open until midnight”, and I’m a woman of my word. Good thing I didn’t close; the half-frozen long haul trucker who wandered in really needed some hot coffee, not to mention a slice of my luscious cherry pie.
Something about the grizzled, bear-like man with the chocolate-brown eyes and ready laugh spun me back to my scandalous, sensual younger days. I hadn’t wanted anyone in years, but I wanted Dave Driver. Was I brave enough to act on my desire? And would he flee, screaming, from the amorous attentions of a white-haired little old lady?
Mature holiday erotic romance
Smashwords and Amazon KDP
ISBN (Smashwords): 9780463728154
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B082GY5X5P
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B082GY5X5P
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/993385
Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/49210283-cherry-pie-and-mistletoe
Before he could mention it, I refilled his empty mug. What was it about this guy? Ants crawled along my skin. Butterflies danced in my stomach. My nipples felt heavy and hard as polished stones and a hungry void pulsed between my thighs.
Our eyes met. Heat flickered through me. I held my breath.
“You got any cherry pie?” he asked at last. Had he wanted to request something else?
“Um—yes, yes, of course,” I gasped. Disappointment and relief warred inside me. After all, I wasn’t a girl anymore. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. “Best cherry pie in three counties, in fact.”
“And would you happen to have something to do with that, Marnie?”
“I certainly would. It’s my mother’s recipe—by the way, what’s your name?” I winced at my own boldness. “Since you know mine.”
“Dave,” he replied. “Dave Driver.”
I giggled. “You’re joking, right?”
“Nope. Guess I was fated to be a long-haul trucker.” Sadness tinged his smile. “Anyway, Marnie—how about that pie? It’s great talking to you, but I’ve got to be in Nebraska by Thursday morning.”
“Coming right up.” I cut him a more-than-generous slice and topped it with a scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream. Ruby-red fruit oozed from the flaky crust. Fingers of creamy white dripped over the top and pooled on the plate. I garnished the whole thing with a sprig of fresh mint and presented it to him with a flourish.
“Very Christmas-y,” he said. “Looks delicious, too.”
“It is.” I watched him devour a big, gooey chunk.
“Wow! This is amazing!”
“Thanks.” It felt so good to be the cause of his innocent delight. “Glad you like it.”
“Why don’t you join me? Have a piece of your own?”
“I shouldn’t. It’s bad for my cholesterol.”
“It’s Christmas Eve, and you have to work. You deserve some compensation!” He held out a moist forkful of cherries and cream. “Here, take some of mine, then.”
Giving in to impulse, I leaned over the counter, opened my mouth and let him feed me. Flavors exploded on my tongue: the sweet-tart burst of the fruit, the richness of the ice cream, the buttery lightness of the crust. Dave scrutinized my face as I chewed and swallowed, savoring every moment. I couldn’t stop licking my lips. His eyes followed my every move. A blush climbed into my cheeks, even as I chided myself for being immature and overly sensitive.
“See?” he said gravely. “You should listen to me. Go get yourself some of your incredible cherry pie.”
I didn’t resist any more. I wanted the pie. I wanted him, too. Not much I could do about that second desire, but I could certainly fulfill the first. Hard as it sometimes was to believe, I was sixty four. Did I think I’d live forever?
With my pie and ice cream (a somewhat smaller piece than I’d given him), I perched on a stool inside the serving area. Facing each other across the counter, less than a foot apart, we ate in silence.
I tried without success to concentrate on the exquisite taste of the dessert in front of me, as Dave seemed to be doing. Instead, I was intensely aware of how close he was—and how paradoxically attractive. I watched his sensual mouth opening and closing around forkfuls of pie, the flick of his tongue over his lips as he gathered stray crumbs, the shift in his throat as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee.
He drained his coffee cup. He’d nearly finished. When he was done, he’d disappear into the winter night. He had a long way to travel before morning. His job probably depended on providing a reliable delivery schedule.
I was just a stop along the way.
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