Trust can’t be bought—it has to be earned.
Blurb:
She’s the billionaire. He’s the virgin. Still, he knows how to make her melt.
When Silicon Valley entrepreneur Rachel Zelinsky meets reclusive genius Theo Moore, she has a single objective —a deal to incorporate his AI software into her company’s popular virtual world. She finds Theo to be arrogant, sensitive and socially awkward, but his aura of power speaks to her carefully-hidden submissive side. Confused and aroused, she falls under his geeky spell.
Theo Moore can’t be bought. His past battles with poverty make him deeply suspicious of the billionaire CEO, though Rachel’s voluptuous curves and brilliant mind embody his ultimate fantasy. Too bad his knowledge about sex derives from extensive research and a stash of kinky porn rather than real-world experience.
Rachel may be Theo’s first lover, but Theo is her first true Master. One word from him, one touch, and she surrenders to bliss. It seems that love and complementary desire may harmonize their differing values, until Rachel’s unwitting violation of Theo’s trust tears them apart.
Newly edited edition! Includes a steamy bonus Valentine’s story featuring Rachel and Theo!
Buy Links (Ebook):
Special Valentine’s Price: Ebook only 99 cents until the end of February! https://amzn.to/3LvN80p
Kinky Literature: https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/811-the-gazillionaire-and-the-virgin-/
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09SDY5XJ5/
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09SDY5XJ5/
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-gazillionaire-and-the-virgin-lisbet-sarai/1123327821?ean=2940165788888
Kobo: [hopefully coming soon]
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1132432
Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60397753-the-gazillionaire-and-the-virgin
Audio (WordWooze):
https://www.amazon.com/The-Gazillionaire-and-the-Virgin/dp/B075WZS3TN/
https://www.audible.com/pd/The-Gazillionaire-and-the-Virgin-Audiobook/B075X1XN87
Excerpt (Rachel):
I decide to drive myself, and choose the BMW for its aura of unobtrusive luxury. One look at my red Lamborghini, I suspect, and Theo Moore would run away screaming. Cruising up to his attractive but unremarkable building at exactly six, I pull into one of the parking spots labeled “Visitors”. My pulse, I’m annoyed to notice, is elevated, and my cheeks feel hot. Do I look as flustered as I feel?
A quick check in the rear-view mirror reassures me. My understated make-up enlarges my eyes and shrinks my rather prominent nose. Gold-plated combs sweep my unruly curls away from my temples into a semi-elegant cascade. Matching gold earrings dangle from my earlobes almost to my bare shoulders. My strapless gown of teal satin hugs my bust and hips like it was made for me—which of course it was. I practice a confident but non-threatening smile. Good evening, Theo. I’m so glad you decided to come.
The minutes tick by, but there’s no sign of him. Should I climb up to his door and ring? Or wait for him to work up the courage to come out by himself? Does he realize I’ve arrived? Is he watching out his window? Or cowering in his room?
I get more annoyed by the second. I am considering honking the horn, which I know will embarrass him, when he appears on the second floor landing. I recognize him by his height and bulk. Otherwise, he’s transformed.
In the custom tailored tuxedo, he’s distinguished and elegant. The sleek black trousers cling to what are obviously powerful, muscular legs. The jacket highlights his broad shoulders and trim waist. Not fat, oh no! He moves with unexpected grace, as if the formal clothing bestowed a sort of gravitas to subdue his usual gawkiness. With his dark hair slicked back from his forehead, he looks like some international man of mystery. The spectacles just heighten the impression of intelligence and sophistication.
Holding the rail of the gallery that runs along the second floor, he scans the parking area.
“Over here, Theo,” I call out of the open window.
He jumps at the sound of my voice. I think he’s about to bolt, to flee back into his condo and slam the door. I can practically see the struggle going on in his body. I hold my breath, waiting for the outcome. Finally he raises his hand in a feeble wave, and fumbles his way down the stairs. The strong, self-assured man of a few moments earlier has vanished. But I remember him. That’s the Theo Moore I need to cultivate.
He makes it to the car. I press the auto-release and the door swings open. “Hi, Theo. Come on, get in. We’re running somewhat late.”
He ducks his head, folds his long limbs and maneuvers his massive body onto the leather upholstery. After fastening his seat belt, he focuses his attention on the blinking, teak-inlaid instrument panel. He neither greets me nor apologizes.
With a shrug, I trigger the ignition and back out onto the road. “You look fantastic, by the way.”
“I feel ridiculous. Like some performer in a circus. Or maybe a trained seal.”
“I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable.” I swing the car out of his complex onto El Camino Real. “In a way, I guess this is a kind of performance. The tux really looks great on you, though. You’re going to impress the donors. And that’s what’s important, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so.” He slumps into the bucket seat, sulking.
With a sigh, I address myself to the task of driving. It’s not far from Palo Alto to Mountain View, but the Saturday evening traffic is insane. Is it any wonder I prefer Santa Cruz? If Theo doesn’t feel like making conversation, that’s fine. I won’t be distracted.
A traffic light turns red just as I’m about to slide through. “Oh, damn!” I glance over at my passenger, embarrassed by my lack of patience. “Sorry. But I wanted to get there early enough to greet the first guests.”
I’m surprised to discover that Theo’s staring at me.
“You look beautiful,” he says, his voice low and earnest.
“Um—what?” I gun the engine as the light flashes green, bolting ahead of the other vehicles.
“Your hair. Your dress. The color suits you. It makes your skin look like polished ivory.”
Huh? “Ah—thank you, Theo. I guess we’ll make an attractive couple. Never hurts when you’re pitching to the beautiful people, right?” I force out a chuckle.
He does not respond. Theo Moore really doesn’t really understand the dynamics of polite conversation.
Review quotes:
“…sweet and romantic but steamy and sexy at the same time. …. I adored it!”
~ Crazie Bettie, Amazon US
“This book is one of the top five hottest books I have read. These were two of my most favorite lovers. I was wrung out when I finished it but what a delight!” ~ Sheila, Amazon US
“I was completely drawn into this relationship, and the relationship IS the story. The connection Rachel and Theo build between them is vividly portrayed, beautiful and well-written, poignant in some ways and hot enough to melt the pages in others. Which is exactly what I want in erotic novels.” ~ Lola White, Goodreads
“Do I recommend this one? Oh hell yeah. Realistic D/s with hot as hell kinky sex? Yes, please!” ~ Kayla Lords, http://kaylalords.com/2016/02/the-gazillionaire-and-the-virgin-lisabetsarai/
Accolades for Lisabet Sarai:
“Lisabet Sarai writes the most beautiful erotic prose. Her stories tease at the senses and transport you to a world of sexual pleasure.” ~ Desiree Holt, queen of BDSM erotic romance and author of Forward Pass
“I’ve always been a fan—Lisabet Sarai’s erotic fiction is certain to captivate, dominate, and leave readers begging for more.” ~ Alison Tyler, best-selling author of erotic BDSM memoirs Dark Secret Love and Even Deeper.
More about Lisabet:
LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Most of her novels include some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse. Her personal experience has taught her the joy to be found in a Master’s bonds. She tries to make that joy real for her readers.
Connect with Lisabet!:
Lisabet’s Fantasy Factory (website): http://www.lisabetsarai.com
Beyond Romance (blog): http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/lisabet-sarai?list=author_books
Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/lisabetsarai
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/lisabetsarai
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/LSarai
Mailing list signup: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh
Excerpt:
For most of my adult life I lived in the South. That is, Virginia (mostly), North and South Carolina. While the winters in those places can be described as mild—not too much snow, but ice instead (yikes!)—even winter has its problems. When it does turn cold and the wind blows, the humidity in the air causes it to to cut right through you. Still, it’s better than having feet of snow to dig through. When we do have ice and snow, it doesn’t usually last too long.
(32 C) with a humidity (the amount of moisture in the air) of 57%. That means that the heat index (the temperature it feels like) is 100 degrees (38 C). In Orlando, FL (another place I used to live), the temperature is 93 F (34 C) with humidity of 54%. The heat index is 103 F (40 C). Glad I’m not there today!
While I have dipped my toe into the future and the past with my writing, I feel most comfortable writing in present, contemporary time. Maybe it’s because I’m lazy? I don’t know. But writing historical fiction takes a fair amount of research if your books come out sounding true. And there’s a lot to keep up with if you build future worlds. (Same is true if you create series in contemporary time, I’ve discovered!) But because of our trucking years, we traveled over a lot of the country and I feel pretty happy drawing on our experiences to write about all kinds of locations.
is that we are telling a story. Make it a good one. Show, don’t tell, Engage the reader’s emotions. Have a great beginning, middle, and end. Mind your craft (grammar, punctuation, POV, etc.). Pay attention to details. If you do these things, you will be read (which is what we all want) regardless of the time period you choose.
I told Jack once that if our marriage ever ended for whatever reason, I would never date again—I’d enter a convent. That convent part might have been a bit of hyperbole, but I was pretty serious about never dating again. Dating takes a lot of effort. And time. Do you know how long it takes to feel comfortable enough with someone before you don’t die of embarrassment if you accidentally let go a little wind? No thanks. I dated for a few years in my life and that was plenty enough. Been there, done that, got the tee shirt.
either. Women should meet guys and be disappointed—or thrilled—the old-fashioned way, face-to-face.
I couldn’t wait to vote! It was something to aspire to, like getting my driver’s license or going away to school. So the very first election after turning 21 I voted, by golly, and I haven’t missed a presidential election yet. I admit that I don’t always vote in local elections, and that’s because as adults, Jack and I moved so much I never got involved enough to find out who was running and what they stood for. But even when we were on the road trucking—through two presidential elections—we made sure to vote absentee.
forming the U.S. government. The electoral college makes sure that states like where I live have a say in who becomes president, just like the big states. If not for it, the states with high populations would always determine our president. They decided on a representative form of government. And then they left it up to the people to elect their representatives. It’s our responsibility to do so or the system falls apart.
“I just won a big award!” Said one way, it’s bragging. Said another way, it’s marketing. Here are a few ways marketing and bragging differ.
with a graphic of the award, review snippets that prove the award was deserved, and a plea to buy the book so that you, too, can enjoy this really great book—great because someone else determined it, not you. Sometimes there is a thin line between bragging and marketing, but other times they miss by a mile.
mom used to collect those little Hummel figures—not the real ones. But I was never drawn into that. I’m sentimental…and yet, not. My mother-in-law once convinced me to collect pewter cups. In Virginia, pewter is readily available and some of the fine cups used for display are really beautiful. I collected three and then lost interest. Maybe I don’t have the patience to build an actual collection. However, for hoarding…I find that a little too easy.
silver serving tray, silver monogrammed drinking glasses, and silver tipped salt and pepper shakers. Nope, never used them. Kept them in the same boxes we received them. But I kept packing and moving them with us because for some reason I just couldn’t let them go. Crazy? Yeah, I think so a bit. Finally, in a wild downsize, I sent all of that stuff to the Salvation Army but—I won’t lie—it was painful.
ridiculous dust collector I picked up in Chicago, book my mom gave me fifteen years ago, etc.), so I can’t toss it away.” That’s how it goes, folks. One day I will have to say goodbye to all of it, but until then, all of that stuff is in four tubs stacked in my closet. Sigh.