It’s 9 PM in Vegas. Do you know your safe word?
Bisexual Kinky Erotica
46,000 words, 171 pages
Smashwords and Amazon KDP
ISBN (Smashwords): 9780463927717
ASIN: B07ZNSS576
Hashtags/Keywords
Blurb
Some people just won’t mind their own business. When an anti-porn terrorist group shuts down the Sin City Fetish Fair, Larry Archer offers The Fox’s Den as an alternative venue. With the assistance of newly arrived dominant Master Shark, plans for the Den’s very first Kink Night quickly take shape. Indeed, the denizens of the Den are practicing their BDSM techniques well before the event.
Blonde, beautiful and untouched, Patricia Hastings leads the Citizens Resisting American Perversion in their fight against filth. She’s determined to destroy the licentious, permissive, anything-but-vanilla strip club – whatever it takes. A smidgen of plastic explosive should do the trick… If only she can resist her attraction to the voluptuous, red-headed minx Annie, and her own secret craving for surrender.
Caught in the act of sabotage, Patty faces a choice: arrest, scandal and prison, or private punishment at the hands of Master Shark and his horny acolytes. Will C.R.A.P.’s paragon of purity uphold her prudish principles? Or consent to the violations that populate her forbidden fantasies?
Buy Links
Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/4255-babes-in-bondage-vegas-babes-book-5/
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZNSS576
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07ZNSS576
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/988144
Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/babes-in-bondage-lisabet-sarai/1134430382?ean=2940163375479
Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/babes-in-bondage-vegas-babes-book-5
Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48643050-babes-in-bondage
Excerpt (PG)
“Lock ‘em up, lock ‘em up!”
The TV footage of the righteous crowd besieging the convention center entrance filled Patty with pride. This had to be one of C.R.A.P’s most successful actions ever. Police armed with shields held back the protesters, creating a gauntlet through which other officers escorted the attendees and vendors exiting the facility. Looking harried and scared, the perverts flinched away from the taunts and the occasional rotten vegetable as they scrambled toward buses waiting outside the perimeter. It served them right. Maybe the experience would make them change their ways.
Patty caught a glimpse of her father, standing with a mic on a flat bed truck, leading the chants. In his tailored suit and white Stetson hat, Senator Ernest B. Hastings was rugged and distinguished, a beacon of moral rectitude, a man with a mission. A pity his tactics were so old-fashioned.
The broadcast cut to the buxom anchorwoman, who gazed into the camera with feigned concern. “We’ve just learned that the Worldwide Pleasure and Lifestyle Exhibition will close this evening, two days ahead of schedule. There are rumors that the organizers plan to sue the city.”
“Whooee!” Jinx and Joey, her two lieutenants, crowed in unison. “We did it! We shut the pervs down.”
“We did indeed,” she answered. “I really appreciate your help, boys.” Jinx had hacked into the convention center management systems to pinpoint the location of the electrical control room. Joey had driven the motorcycle she’d used for her getaway. It had been Patty’s job, though, to infiltrate the building, find the transformers and plant the explosives.
It has been surprisingly easy. Amid the garish costumes and general lewdness of the Fair, nobody had thought twice about stopping a pretty blonde wearing a leather bikini, high heel boots and elbow-length satin gloves.
Her father believed demonstrations by committed citizens would stem the tide of twisted filth washing over America. Patty knew more radical action was needed.
She clicked off the news, then rose to her feet. “You’d better go. The banquet’s at seven, and I’m supposed to give the keynote. I’ve got to shower and get ready.”
Jinx unfolded his skinny limbs from the hotel room couch. He stuck a hand under his military-style fatigues to scratch his belly. “I’m beat,” he said. “Gonna get some shut-eye before the festivities. Unless of course you need s’more help…” His transparent leer made her skin crawl.
“Thanks, but no. You and Joey have done more than enough. See you tonight.”
“Okay, Miss Patty.” Joey scooped up the last two potato chips from the bowl in front of him and crammed them into his mouth, then lumbered after Jinx. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
Patty closed the door behind them with a sigh of relief. She’d deliberately recruited guys who not only possessed the skills she needed, but who were also physically unattractive. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by any weakness of the flesh that might derail her plans. Furthermore, she had to maintain her image as the incorruptible virgin vice-president of Citizens Resisting.
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
The whole time I lived at home, my mom made corn pudding for our holiday meals. I really don’t remember having it any other time, but Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, corn pudding was a staple on our dinner table. I loved it! Mom loved it! Dad…? Well, when he explained to Mom why he was leaving, after 28 years of marriage, he said he hated corn pudding.
I know many people bemoan the work that goes into hosting or visiting family at the holidays, but I am not one of them, except in one respect. First, about my family holidays.
wonderful! I understand how that might not be so if there is too much selfishness and too little care evident. That is if folks don’t get together to share the joys of the season and instead make it obvious that the day is about them and not everyone else. Believe me, I have been at family events where there is too much drinking or arguments spring up or one person is expected to do all the work. No fun. Not like family. If this is your situation, you might have to work harder at enjoying the holiday, but it can still be done.
large the kids have grown, with how each of us is getting more frail in our own ways or stronger. It gives us a chance to laugh with one another and maybe to cry, while sharing the load of what makes us cry. It provides a chance for photos with sparkly backgrounds, that we can examine later and smile over.
snarled traffic. This is the number one reason why no one in our family gets together on holidays—it’s too darn much trouble.
I’m not quite a Luddite, but close to it. I wasn’t always this way. Time was, I was considered a leader in computer and Internet usage. I posted on Yahoo groups with the best of them to promote my books, and could make Outlook, Word and Excel sing. Then I took a break.
would be spending even more time at the keyboard. And that doesn’t include blogging or managing a newsletter. By the time I create blog posts, both for those appearing on the Nomad Authors blog and for when I appear on the blog sites of others, I’m pooped.
I’ve always considered myself a pretty fast writer—when I write. I mean, I could eat lunch at work and still knock out a thousand words. I have written a 90K word book in a month. But the one year I tried NANOWRIMO, I choked. Couldn’t write 300 words in a day. Couldn’t get through a chapter in a week. Couldn’t… Well, couldn’t finish NANOWRIMO.
NANOWRIMO, but I did not. The discipline that NANOWRIMO gives you is a good thing, but when faced with it I turned out to be the biggest wuss ever. It’s not for me, I’m afraid. But for those who thrive under the NANOWRIMO pressure, more power to you! Enjoy the month. I’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines.
