Charity Sunday: Folds of Honor

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

This month’s charity is Folds of Honor. The mission of Folds of Honor is: “To provide educational scholarships to spouses and children of America’s fallen and disabled service-members. … Honor their sacrifice. Educate their legacy.” So this charity helps two ways that are near and dear to my heart—it helps give people who need the boost an education they might not be able to afford, and it honors those who have given much. Please comment!


I wrote Burning Bridges as Anne Krist. It’s not an erotic romance, but it’s a book full of emotion and is a true love story. The hero, Paul Steinert, is in the Navy and is about to ship out for Vietnam when he first meets Sara Noland. Perhaps his child could have benefited from Folds of Honor!


Excerpt:

Virginia Beach, Virginia – January, 1970

“Of all days to debate about whether to wear the short skirt or the shorter one,” Sara wailed to her best friend, Cindy. “We’ll be lucky if we aren’t late.”

The blue Volkswagen Beetle sped down the highway. Or as fast as it could speed, with the tiny engine pushing from the rear, and Sara having to shift gears so often because of traffic and lights. She huffed in frustration.

“Oh, we have plenty of time. I had to make sure I looked just right. You never know who we’ll see,” Cindy replied with her usual assurance.

“I hope you’re right.”

“You worry, Sara, and things always turn out okay. Just keep your mind on driving and we’ll be fine.” Cindy clasped her hands and shrieked with excitement. “I can’t believe our parents bought us tickets to see Michael Wales!”

That brought a real smile to Sara’s face. “I know! Our parents are the best.”

She flicked a knob on the radio as she veered into the parking lot, silencing Neil Diamond’s “Holly Holy.”

“See? I told you. You worry too much. We’re here with a good ten minutes to spare.” Cindy flipped her straight blonde hair over her shoulder. She turned the rearview mirror toward her and applied a fresh coating of lip gloss.

“We’re only ‘here’ if I can find a place to park.” Sara maneuvered her little car up one aisle and down another, until finally, “Good! There’s one.” Before she could get to the space, a sleek, red Corvette swung in.

“Oh, no! That was our space,” Cindy cried.

Two men unfolded themselves from the little sports car, the driver with olive skin and hair as dark as the passenger’s was golden. The men started toward the building. Suddenly, the passenger looked at Sara and then back at the space.

The low-hanging sun framed him, a fair giant with short hair and the physique of a warrior. For a brief moment, Sara pictured him with sword and shield at the helm of a Norse sailing vessel. Her heart fluttered and her breath caught. Then she brought herself under control.

The girls watched as he talked to the dark-haired man and gestured to them. The driver looked around then shook his head before continuing toward the building. The blond shrugged apologetically at Sara and followed his friend.

“Shoot! I thought maybe he would have a heart.” Sara eased off the clutch and started forward again.

“They were cute.” Cindy swerved in her seat to watch the men as they picked their way through the parked cars. “I wonder what the chances are of seeing them–”

A piercing whistle cut through Cindy’s words. “Stop, Sara! The blond guy is waving at us.”

Sara turned to look behind them. The blond man was indeed waving, gesturing for her to come toward him. “What does he want?” she muttered. Deciding to ignore him, she drove on, turning to the right.

He whistled again.

“He wants you to pull around there. He’s still waving.”

“Oh, all right,” Sara grumbled. “But make sure your door is locked, Cindy. And don’t roll your window down.”

Cindy laughed. “You sound like my mother. What do you think is going to happen right here in the parking lot?”

Sara managed a U-turn and drove to where the man stood. Rolling her window down an inch, she said loudly, “What is it?”

He bent down to peer through the glass at her, a lopsided grin on his face. Good Lord, he was cute. Muscled shoulders and arms, angular, strong features, hair a rich blond, and dark, sapphire-blue eyes.

“Oh, my heavens,” she heard Cindy say under her breath.

For once, Sara understood her friend’s meaning. His grin made her stomach do flip-flops and her palms sweat.

“I don’t bite,” he said around a chuckle, motioning to the almost closed window. “I just wanted to tell you, there’s a place right over there. I think you can squeeze your Bug into it.” He turned and pointed at a half space at the end of the aisle, a couple of cars away.

Flashing him a look of gratitude, she put the little car in gear and pulled into the spot. The tall, handsome stranger followed.

When Sara turned off the engine, the guy opened the door for Cindy and held out his hand to assist her. Out of nowhere, a sharp pang of jealousy struck Sara. Its intensity and suddenness disturbed her. After all, she didn’t know this man; what difference did it make if he and Cindy hit it off?

By the time she collected her purse, stepped out and made sure the doors were locked, Cindy and the mystery man were like old friends. Again she felt the Green Monster strike, and gave a mental shake to rid herself of its clutches.

“Sara,” Cindy said, smiling dreamily at the tall man, “this is Paul Steinert. Wasn’t he just wonderful, finding us this space?” She tittered.

It was all Sara could manage, not to gape. Cindy always flirted but tittering was something new.

“Paul, this is my best friend, Sara Noland.”

Paul smiled and held out his hand. “Hello, Sara. I’m sorry about the other space. This one is closer to the door, though.”

She locked gazes with him and her tongue twisted in her mouth. Surges of heat flew through her body. If his smile had that effect, what would his touch do to her? Something wonderful.

No, something forbidden.

Buy Burning Bridges or Read for free on KU

About me:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex. She is the primary persona of three pen names—triplets, if you will: Dee, Anne Krist, and Jenna Stewart.

As noted above, Dee S. Knight writes erotic romance—emphasis on the romance! She was part of an anthology named a Top Pick in Romantic Times magazine (Resolutions) and the sole author of another Top Pick designation, for the paranormal erotic romance, Passionate Destiny.

“Sister” Anne Krist does not write erotic romance. Her book, Burning Bridges, has received high praise and multiple 5-star reviews because of the depth of the romance and emotion. Burning Bridges is Anne’s first book but she has a series planned that she hopes to have out soon.

Third of the triplets is Jenna Stewart. Jenna has tried her hand at ménage—in both historical and shifter books. She wrote the Sisters O’Ryan series set during the westward migration in the U.S., the Great Wolves of Men-Edge, and Unlikely Bedfellows.

Regardless of the name she uses to write during the day, their dream man, childhood sweetheart, and long-time hubby are all the same guy. What happens during their nights are their secret.

For romance ranging from sweet to historical, contemporary to paranormal and more join the girls on Nomad Authors. Sign up for Dee’s newsletter with Jan Selbourne and have access to fun free reads. Also, once a month, look for Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: https://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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Charity Sunday: St Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!


This month I’d like to talk about St Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital located in Memphis, TN. I have always associated St. Jude’s with pediatric cancer, but after a little research found that they treat other catastrophic diseases in children, too. I also recently learned that donations also cover travel, housing, and food—huge costs for families whose children are far from home to receive the specialized care they need.

I know about part of this personally, in that my parents always had to travel a long distance when I was in the Shrine Hospitals. In addition to the trip, staying for any length of time was all extra, and my folks did not have much money. Getting help with travel, food, and housing is a tremendous thing.

In addition to the good work St. Jude’s does, I appreciate the amount of each dollar donated goes to the hospital and its work—82 cents of every dollar. That’s a great percentage of return that has earned it a 4-star rating from Charity Navigator!

I don’t have children, so I can’t begin to imagine what it would be like to have a child in great need. But I have written characters with children, and I hope I’ve imbued some sense of the love between child and parent, especially between single parent Sara Richards and her daughter Paula in Burning Bridges.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ring of the landline. “Good morning. Beauty by Beaufort.”

“Mom?”

With only one word spoken Sara knew something was wrong. “Good morning, sweetheart. Aren’t you at work?”

“No, I took a sick day.”

Sara’s brow creased with worry. “Paula, what’s wrong?”

Her daughter’s voice caught. “Mom, I feel so silly but I had to talk to you. I was cleaning up the apartment last night and I found an acceptance letter from Northwestern for Dan.”

“Northwestern? That’s in…uh, it’s in—”

“Chicago.”

“But I thought he was going to attend law school at South Carolina, in Columbia.” Sara took a breath. “Chicago is a very long way. Did Dan say he wanted to go?”

“I didn’t tell him I found the letter, but I know he does.”

“Oh, Paula. How do you feel?”

Paula’s tone tightened as though she held back tears. “I don’t want to go. Mom, he’s had the letter for two or three days I think, and he hasn’t said a word.”

“Maybe he’s thought about it and decided to turn them down.”

“I don’t think so. He talked about it months ago, about how great the Northwestern program is. I got upset that he was looking into a school that far away, and he hasn’t brought it up since. But I know he hasn’t forgotten.”

“So, you’re not certain he’s chosen Northwestern. The law school at Carolina is excellent, too.”

“I know, and so does Dan. But lately he’s been restless. I think he wants a change.” Her voice broke. “I think he wants a change in more than where he attends school.”

Sara couldn’t contain a soft gasp. “Paula! Has he said anything, done anything?”

“No, but for the past few weeks he’s been really quiet. Oh, I don’t mean he acts mad or nasty, he just seems…uncomfortable around me. And the fact remains that he didn’t tell me about the acceptance from Northwestern. I only found it because it fell out of a book when I was dusting.”

“You have to talk to him. Believe me, I know the dangers of not communicating when things don’t seem right.” The bell over the front door rang and Sara stood to see who was entering. She was surprised to see her mother, but a quick glance at her watch showed that the morning was nearly gone. “Do you want to come home this weekend?”

“No, but thanks.” Paula gave a nervous laugh. “I’m half afraid if I leave for any length of time, I’ll come home to find him packed and gone. You know, he hasn’t proposed. He hasn’t even suggested I go with him to Chicago.”

Sara lowered her voice. “Honey, I’m so sorry. But Dan loves you. You need to talk to him, let him know how you feel.”

Her mother entered the office and set a bag from Bay Street Deli on the desk. “Paula?” she mouthed. Sara nodded. “Let me say hello to her.” Her mother held her hand out for the receiver.

“Paula, your grandmother is here and wants to say hi. But call me tonight, will you?”

“Sure. I feel better just telling someone about what’s going on. I love you, Mama.”

Hot tears stung the backs of Sara’s eyes, a reaction she experienced whenever Paula reverted to Mama. “I love you, too, pumpkin.” She handed the phone to her mother.

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Hurry! 99 Cents…for now. From Lisabet Sarai: At the Margins of Madness

Both power and love can lead to madness

Blurb MM Paranormal erotic romance (Five flames):

Nineteen year old Kyle sees visions of disasters, visions that tear his world apart. Everyone assumes that he is schizophrenic, but Rob, the cop who picks him up off the street, knows better.

Rob’s own experience has taught him that psychic powers are real, and potentially devastating. Since his telepathic sister’s brutal murder, Rob wants nothing to do with “gifted” individuals like Kyle. Yet he can’t deny his attraction to the beautiful, tortured young man – an attraction that appears to be mutual.

When a brilliant, sadistic practitioner of the black arts lures Kyle into his clutches, Rob faces the possibility that once again he may lose the person he loves most to the forces of darkness.

Note: This novel was previously published by Totally Bound under the title Necessary Madness. It has been revised and reformatted for this edition.

Buy links:

Kinky Literature: https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/917-at-the-margins-of-madness-a-tale-of-power-and-love/

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09QQG683R/

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09QQG683R/

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/at-the-margins-of-madness-lisabet-sarai/1140911192?ean=2940165754531

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1127718

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/at-the-margins-of-madness-a-tale-of-power-and-love

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60179575-at-the-margins-of-madness

Online excerpt (X-rated)

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2022/01/sizzling-sunday-new-mm-paranormal.html


Introduction:

Valley of Stories

Near the center of Massachusetts, the huge, butterfly-shaped Quabbin Reservoir practically divides the state in two. Constructed in the nineteen thirties to satisfy the thirst of the Boston metropolitan area, Quabbin figuratively divided the state as well, pitting the rural inhabitants of the Swift River Valley against the city dwellers in the state capitol. Four towns – Dana, Enfield, Greenwich and Prescott – were drowned by Quabbin’s advancing waters. The houses of their inhabitants were dismantled and relocated on higher ground. Bodies were exhumed from their graves and reburied elsewhere. Forests were leveled in order to reduce the amount of degrading biological material that would pollute the reservoir. The land that had belonged to Dana and its unfortunate fellows was allocated to neighboring towns.  Communities which had prospered in the valley since the seventeen hundreds ceased to exist.

Needless to say, the Swift River Valley is haunted. Even if you don’t know the history, you can’t escape  the sense of mystery as you drive the winding length of Route 202, which hugs the west end of the reservoir.  The evergreens that were planted to protect the watershed have grown tall now, shadowing the road.  The woods around the man-made lake are home to bears, bald eagles, wildcats and perhaps stranger, more secret beings. On the eastern shore, overgrown dirt lanes meander through the village of Petersham, sending tentative fingers toward the still water.

Ghosts of the dispossessed inhabitants from the flooded towns still seem to hover in the area. They’re joined by older creatures from the earlier times when the Algonkian natives fished in the Swift River, grew their corn along the banks, and worshiped the spirits of the forest.

I’m not the only individual to feel that the Swift River Valley is full of supernatural stories. The movie version of Stephen King’s Dreamcatcher features the reservoir as a prominent plot element. The cult horror author H.P. Lovecraft explicitly set his now-classic tale “The Color Out of Space” in the valley before its flooding. A variety of other authors and singers have been touched by the mystery that seems to permeate the place.

My MM paranormal romance At the Margins of Madness is partially set in the Quabbin Valley. The book revolves around various psychic powers – precognition, telepathy and the like. I used to live near Quabbin, and had friends in Petersham. It seemed like a natural place for the home of a consulting witch who helps individuals with psi talents to understand and control their abilities.

Excerpt:

“Kitchen’s here, with the door out to the back porch. Only one bathroom, I’m afraid. Here’s the guest room—your room. The closet’s empty; you’re welcome to put your stuff in there.”

Rob led Kyle through his apartment, fussing and clucking like a mother hen. He wondered for the hundredth time whether this was a mistake. The guy was just so damned beautiful. Rob could hardly bear to be close to him. Driving the few miles from St. Vincent’s to his building, Rob had tried to pay attention to the road, but he couldn’t help sneaking sidelong glances at the mysterious, sensual face of his companion. Kyle seemed to be brooding. Maybe he had his doubts, too.

“What stuff?” Kyle spread his arms, a half-smile on his plump lips. “Everything I own is on my back.”

“I’ll take you over to Greendale Mall so you can pick up some new clothes. Loan you some cash until you get on your feet.”

“What makes you think I’ll ever ‘get on my feet’, Sergeant Murphy?”

“Rob. Please.”

“Okay, Rob.” Kyle stared at the mostly bare maple outside the guest room window, before turning back to confront him. “Why should anything be different now?” Rob heard the bitterness in his voice. “I have a disease, and I don’t mean the ulcer. I’m cursed. I see terrible things, and I can’t stop them. It’s getting worse all the time. There are only two possibilities. Either I’ll kill myself, or I’ll truly go insane.”

Rob suppressed the urge to take the man in his arms. Instead, he settled for an avuncular pat on the shoulder. “It’s only your imagination, Kyle. Your mind playing tricks on you. Once you understand that, maybe you can suppress the visions. Or control them.”

Kyle sank down onto the bed. His dark eyes burnt under exquisitely arched brows. “My imagination? You know that’s not true.”

Rob lowered himself onto the desk chair. He wished that he were somewhere else. He wanted to help Kyle, but he really didn’t like where the conversation was going.

“What else could it be? These spells—they’re like seizures. Storms of random activity in your brain that make you see things. I was there at the hospital, remember, when it hit you yesterday. You were completely out of touch, yelling about the brake, the gas tank, groaning and crying. You were delusional.”

“It was a crash,” Kyle intoned. “At least five cars. Glass everywhere. The screech of rubber, the stink of leaking gasoline, and then the explosion and the smell of charred flesh… Check the papers, Rob. Call the police station. If it hasn’t happened yet, it will soon.”

“You really believe that your hallucinations foretell the future?” Rob remembered the night he’d picked Kyle up, the narrowly averted catastrophe at the address Kyle had seen.

“I only wish that they didn’t. All I ever see is violence and pain.” Kyle buried his face in his hands.

Rob moved to the bed, next to his guest, and put his arm around the denim-clad shoulders. He couldn’t help himself. “Look, that’s crazy. This isn’t some kind of horror movie. This is real life. There’s a rational explanation for everything.” He was trying to convince himself as much as Kyle. He didn’t want anything more to do with psychic abilities. Never again.

Kyle skewered him with a dark stare, hurt and angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought that you wanted to help me.”

Rob tensed. Kyle was so close. The funk of his old sweat rose from the worn jacket, along with a trace of disinfectant. Rob could see the pulse beating in the boy’s pale temple. He felt his own blood rush to his groin.

Kyle trembled. His nostrils flared. His eyes gleamed. Rob felt the pull, a magnet focused on his groin. It would be so easy to gather that taut young body to his chest, to fasten his mouth on Kyle’s ripe lips, to take control. But that wasn’t what the man needed. Kyle needed responsible strength. Logic. Maturity. With a heroic effort, Rob smothered his fantasies.

“I do want to help. If I didn’t, do you think I would have taken you in? I just want you to be realistic. To recognize that even when you think you’re seeing future events, that’s a delusion.”

Kyle wasn’t listening, not really. Rob could see him adjust his face, hiding his emotions, shuttering those bright eyes, donning a false smile. Putting on a mask. “Whatever you say, Rob. Maybe you’re right. After all, most nut cases think their visions are real.”

“You’re not a ‘nut case’, Kyle.”

“Are you sure?” He giggled. “You can’t have it both ways, you know. Either I’m prescient, or I’m insane.”

Meet Lisabet:

Lisabet Sarai
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 – more than 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 (https://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Bookbub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list and get a free ebook, plus exclusive contents and other benefits: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Charity Sunday! Luke’s Wings

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!


Luke’s Wings https://lukeswings.org/ “is dedicated to reuniting wounded, ill, and injured service members and veterans with their loved ones by providing complimentary airfare during recovery and rehabilitation. … Luke’s Wings was founded in 2008 after learning that the government does not always provide flights for family or loved ones to be bedside after a service member is injured. This is where Luke’s Wings steps in to fill the gap for the months and years ahead.

“Families are completely on their own to travel back and forth between their everyday lives and their new reality. Luke’s Wings provides complimentary airfare to wounded, ill, and injured service members, veterans and their loved ones keeping military families connected during recovery and rehabilitation. These flights bring mental, physical, emotional, and financial support, empowering wounded service members to overcome challenges they face every step of the way.”

On a personal note, I spent months at a time in several different hospitals when growing up for surgery. It’s not at all the same as what our wounded warriors go through, but it is similar in one small aspect: I was separated from family while waiting for surgery, after surgery , and during recovery and physical therapy. I understand why having family members present for recovery and therapy is a huge help, lending support, encouragement, and love. Allowing the reunions of wounded military members with their families would be a tremendous benefit.


May I tell you about Naval Maneuvers? Three novellas tell the stories of three servicemen and their loves. I dedicated the book to my dad, who proudly sailed the seas for 24 years and for my second father, who believed “once a Marine always a Marine,” and who demonstrated the finest qualities of the Corps in love of his country and family.

Naval Maneuvers by Dee S. Knight

Blurb:
Men and women of the armed forces experience lust and love pretty much like everyone else. Except, well, there is that uniform. And the hard-to-resist attraction of “duty, honor, service” as a man might apply them to a woman’s pleasure. All things considered, romance among the military is a pretty sexy, compelling force for which you’d better be armed, whether weighing anchor and moving forward into desire, dropping anchor and staying put for passion, or setting a course for renewed love with anchor home. Explore the world of love and the military and see just how hot Naval Maneuvers can be.

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt:
Carie made her way around the side of the building and nearly ran into Todd, who lounged against the weathered wood siding. He looked better than good in a pale blue polo shirt and jeans. Top-Sider boat shoes with no socks gave him that naturally casual look that no model could successfully carry out.

“I was hoping you’d come,” he said.

“You were pretty obvious,” she said dryly.

“I knew you were smart enough to catch the hint. I just didn’t know if you’d follow it.”

How could she not? The moment she noticed him she’d remembered the feel of his being deep inside her. But that didn’t change a damn thing. They shouldn’t be here, not together.

She held her head high and tried to look down her nose at him—nearly impossible since he was taller than she, but she had perfected the attitude long before meeting Todd Baxter. Senior Chief Todd Baxter. “I wanted to walk the beach while I was here, that’s all.” Todd grinned and Carie melted inside.

“Lucky for me, I wanted to walk the beach, too,” he said. “Quite a coincidence, huh?”

She snorted in disbelief and slipped off her sandals. Brushing by him, she was glad he didn’t try to kiss her or hold her. But then she frowned. Why didn’t he try to kiss her? She’d wanted to jump his bones right there in that Norfolk hallway. They had to maintain propriety then, but here, no one would see them. What held him back? She knew an unfamiliar sense of self-doubt. Had she mistaken his feelings before?

Nonsense. Carie knew what they’d had was more than mere lust. It had been lust of stupendous proportions, far beyond a few days of burning out. Then what held him back? Knowing the military regulations preventing officers and enlisted personnel from having a relationship, you idiot.

Damn. She finally found someone she clicked with, and he had to be an enlisted man in the Navy.

The sand felt good between her toes, cool and squishy. Gulls screeched overhead and on the sand, where they snatched up sand crabs and poked around for scraps sunbathers might have left. Surf pounded to the shore and then surged forward, the sharp white of its foam sharp against the dark, wet sand before the water was absorbed. The sun beat down, making her wish she’d worn her bathing suit under her jeans and tank top so she could take a quick dip, and remembered to bring a floppy hat to shield her face.

Suddenly, something was plopped on her head. She dragged it off to look at it. SFC Baxter was stamped on the inside of a white sailor hat, brim folded down.

“I kept it for sentimental purposes when I made chief,” Todd said. When she raised her brows, he continued. “I brought it in case you came without a cover. I remember you were sensitive to the sun when we went to pick up your clothes.” He smiled. “And I know you’re quick to freckle. Not that I don’t like your freckles a great deal. Ma’am.”

She cringed at his use of “Ma’am,” though it was the proper term for him to use when a superior officer was a woman. But she smiled inside that he’d remembered such a small thing like the sensitivity to the sun suffered by all redheads. Chagrined, she put the hat on and pulled it forward, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“After all that time in North Carolina, how in hell did we never mention what we did for a living?” She couldn’t believe her stupidity. Martha had nothing on her for not asking the right questions.

“In Carolina we had lots of other things on our minds. I knew you’re a lawyer. When I thought of you, I never wondered how you spent your time at work. I just thought of how you spent your time with me.”

“That’s pretty shallow.”

Todd laughed. “Not to a man.”

Stupid answer. But it had been his very maleness that captivated her. Well, and orgasms. Who’s shallow now?

“Look,” he said, his hand out in a request for understanding. “It isn’t as though I didn’t want to get to know you better. I did. I do. But when we’re together I can’t keep my hands off you. I can’t stop thinking how I want to touch you, kiss you, do other things to–”

“When were you going to tell me you were in the Navy?” she asked.

He sighed loud enough that she heard it over the sound of the waves. “I don’t know. I guess when we slowed down enough to talk. There wasn’t much time.”

There hadn’t been. In Asheville, if they hadn’t been eating or sleeping, they busy in other ways. And there hadn’t been much eating or sleeping going on.

“I think they should put a plaque on the outside of that room for the fewest number of times the occupants left in four days. I couldn’t get enough of you.” Carrying his shoes in his left hand, he stuck his right hand in his pocket and strolled along beside her, barefoot. “I still can’t.”

“You didn’t exactly write and tell me that.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want to assume too much, not knowing if you wanted me again as much as I wanted you. Call me shy.” He grinned, and she burst into laughter. “Besides,” he continued, “you’re the one who left saying, ‘It’s been fun.'”

She dipped her head, acknowledging the fact. “And you agreed.”

“Carie, I was scared.”

He sounded sincere, but really? He stopped and stared out across the breakers. She stared along with him, wondering what he saw out there. “I’m pretty set in my ways,” he said, and she had to strain to hear him, he spoke so low. “I’ll be honest, I haven’t been a monk, but sex with you was different. You made me think of things I’d never considered before.” He studied her face. “Do you understand?”

“I think so,” she said softly. “I wanted you more than anything. I’ve never had time or energy for a relationship. I’ve given all I have to my career. But I think I want more now.”

Todd reached to cup her cheek but then dropped his hand. “Like I said, I’m not a monk but there’s been no one since you.”

She wanted him. More, she needed him. “Nor for me. It wouldn’t have been the same. Nothing before you was ever that intense. Nothing else has ever touched me.” Pain struck her heart. “I want to kiss you so damn much.”

Before he could say anything, she turned and began walking again, sticking her hand in her pocket so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach for his hand. She’d had to hold herself back from stepping into his arms in the hallway on base. Here, on a near-empty beach, she had to exert even more will power. “That was then, and this is now. Vacation and real life seldom mix.”

“Funny,” he said. “Given the chance, I’d mix vacation and real life in a New York minute”

“Me, too,” she admitted. “But we can’t now. You’ve ruined everything.”

She felt him stiffen beside her. Idiot! You make a living saying the right thing to sway people’s opinion and you screw up like that?

“This is my fault how?” he asked quietly. She hadn’t seen him angry, but she had an idea this quiet voice was the prelude.

“You’re in the Navy but you’re not an officer.” It might sound petty, but regs were regs. “Why aren’t you an officer?” Okay, and that sounded whiny. But damn it, she felt whiny. “That attorney friend of yours said you were a mechanical engineer. Weren’t you offered OCS?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. After I received my BS and again after I earned my Masters. I didn’t accept because I didn’t want to be an officer.”

“Why not?” She spun to face him, the arm holding her sandals outstretched in confusion. She’d never met anyone who would turn down the chance to make more money and have more prestige.

“I like working, using my hands, being with my men—on the job and off.”

She started walking again. “Well, too bad you like sleeping with me. Or you seemed to. God knows, I loved being with you. And now it’s all over.”

“I’m surprised at you, counselor. The regulation obviously was written for two people who work together. It’s to keep one from having undue power over the other. We don’t work together.”

“It’s military regulations. You don’t mess with them. I don’t mess with them. I work to uphold them, not bend them to suit my desires.”

“I love your desires.” He pulled her hand from her pocket. Linking their fingers, he stepped closer and they continued their stroll across the sand as though the world hadn’t just turned on its axis. “Right here, right now, it feels like we never left Asheville. The view is different but we’re the same.”

Carie opened her mouth for air, suddenly needing more than she had a moment ago. But she couldn’t gather the strength needed to take back her hand. “The view isn’t the only thing different.”

He frowned. “Was I the friend you had planned to surprise this weekend?”

“Yes.” She sighed.

He laughed out loud. “You succeeded wildly.”

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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New! The Moon Crossing a writing partnership

The Moon CrossingWhat do a scifi/fantasy romance writer and historical romance writer have in common?

Well for Jan Selbourne and me it was a mutual love of writing.

After reading Perilous Love, I became a fan of her writing. In Perilous Love, Jan dragged me through a gambit of emotions including being very annoyed I had to go to sleep and wouldn’t get back to her book until much later the next day.

Jan and I talked writing and went back and forth a bit. I’m not sure how the conversation started but I said we should write a book together. I love her style and her attention to detail, so I thought we could work together to create a story.

It started more in fun – well, what could we write together. I don’t know how we settled on alternate history but it seemed to work. History was involved which hit on Jan’s strengths and it being tweaked and a bit different.. well that describes me I think.

Both Jan and I write as we go. There’s no grand plan or outline. We sit down and write. How in the world were we going to write a story together? So we talked through ideas. Some were rubbish and others were brilliant. Once we had a rough idea of where we thought we were going, we started writing. We started this in 2020 so with all the COVID and political unrest and difficulties, we tapped into the conspiracies of government and big business. Corruption is one of the themes in the book but also coverups.

Jan picked the names. I hate picking character names. In my head they are character 1 or character 2 or something similar until they coalesce into something more. One thing we did discuss was Susan needed to be strong. Moments of stress didn’t result in her breaking down in tears or falling apart. We tapped into her fears and let the reader see them. At one point, she’s walking through a dark tunnel. She feels like the walls are closing in and her fear climbs. Tapping into those feelings are key for the development of the character and progression of the story.

We opted to swap chapters. I’d write one then she’d write one. When it was her turn to write, I had to force myself to not go in and read behind her. I loved reading where she took us and our characters. After reading her chapters, I had to catch my breath. I tapped into the characters and thought okay, what’s next?

There were moments when I thought ‘huh, hadn’t planned to go there’ but as I read what she wrote, I was amazed and thrilled. Her writing inspired my writing. I hope mine did the same for her.

There were times she said – I’m writing this scene – I was perfectly okay with that because there were scenes I knew I wanted to write. I think our styles complimented each other nicely. By tapping into our strengths, I think it gave our story more depth and breadth. I also think it strengthened our friendship.

BLURB:
USA Today Bestselling Author Eileen Troemel and 2019 winner of Coffee Pot Book Club Book of the year silver medal for Historical Fiction Jan Selbourne present an alternate history, sweet romance of life after the Moon Landing in 1969.

In 2030, World Correction Center – the Earth’s most secure prison – is a miserable place to land. Since it’s on the moon, it’s inescapable. It contains the worst criminals Earth has ever seen. So why are the brilliant minds across the globe being sent to this black hole of the justice system?

When world-renowned archeologist Micky Cooper is charged with embezzling, his sister Susan knows it’s a set up. It’s up to her to prove his innocence. Susan thinks she might be paranoid but she swears she’s being followed and should she trust the nice man whose cousin has disappeared as well? Was it just a chance meeting or is he against her too?

Teaming up with Greg Tanner, a man equally resolved to prove the innocence of his cousin, Samantha Tanner – a world leading linguist. Susan and Greg seek clues wherever they can find them but they’re barely keeping one step ahead of those who want them to stop.

They begin to unravel the web of lies, fraud and cover up. Just when they start to put the pieces together, Susan and Greg are forced to run for their lives. With a nudge from Samantha, they find someone to help. Is this woman an ally? Or simply part of a greater conspiracy to hide the truth? What exactly is on the moon and why are the Earth’s greatest minds being sent there to serve time?

Buy link:
Universal: https://books2read.com/mooncrossing

Excerpt:
Finally at the front, she saw the little line on the sidewalk. The signs said no matter what, stay behind the line. Why? Did they think her powerful enough to break through a steel cage and bullet proof window? She forced a smile on her face as she fought her own rebellious nature. Putting her toes on the line, she raised her eyes to meet those of the officer.

The officer behind the window glanced her way. She flashed a sweet almost innocent smile to charm him. He paused momentarily, “State the name of the prisoner.”

“Micky… Michael James Cooper,” Susan heard the whir of the computer through the thick walls as the officer typed in her brother’s name. Biting her lip, she waited.

The officer stared at the screen, an eerie green reflection on his face. He glanced at her, frowned, and glanced back to his screen. “He’s not assigned,” the officer said.

“Can you tell me when he will be assigned,” Susan asked stepping closer to the window. She stepped over the line, but no one burst out of the doors to drag her away.

With his Adam’s apple bobbing, the officer looked into her pretty blue eyes. He licked his lips as he took in her tight sweater and her curves. Pencil skirts highlighted her narrow waist and flat stomach. Susan saw the desire she endured from men since she got breasts at ten. Men. She tried to keep the disgust she felt hidden.

“He’s been assigned,” the officer said reluctantly shifting his eyes back to the screen. “There’s no backlog of prisoners. They either get a prison in the US, or they go off to WCC.”

“What’s WCC?”

“World Correctional Center,” he informed.

“Sergeant Brady,” she read off his name from the tag on his gray uniform, “I know you get a lot of flak from people all day long, I don’t want to cause trouble. I want to send my brother some food and other creature comforts.”

Sergeant Brady adjusted his belt as he stood behind the glass and metal counter. “Most likely they sent him to the moon,” he said. “Those designations always take longer to get in the system.”

“May I ask you a simple question,” Susan said putting on her ‘I’m a dumb girl act’.

“Anything I can do to help,” Officer Brady said, grinning when she gave him a half smile.

“I thought they only sent the worst criminals there,” she said leaning forward to give him a better view of her cleavage. “I know Son of Sam and Charles Manson were sent to the dark side of the moon. Why would they send my brother who… well he did something with the computer, and they said he stole money.”

“It’s all up to the International Department of Justice,” Officer Brady said leaning towards the glass. “They assign the prisoners to the prison.”

“You’re so kind,” Susan beamed at him. “Who can I contact…”

“You can’t and you are beyond the line,” snapped an officer behind Brady, who jumped to attention.

“Oh, forgive me,” Susan said stepping back. This man was not swayed by her helpless girl act. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Turning away from the head of the line, Susan felt a flush rush across her face. How dare they? The dark side of the moon. Why send her brother? They convicted him of embezzlement. Murders, mass murderers, traitors were all sent to the dark side of the moon.

Meet the Authors:

Eileen TroemelEileen Troemel:
USA Today Bestseller Author Eileen Troemel writes action packed and emotionally powerful fantasy, scifi, romance. She’s versatile and writes in many genres.  She’ll try almost any genre if it means she can tell a good story.  In addition to her writing, she loves to read, crochet, and research genealogy.  Her best days are spent with her family of three adult daughters and her husband or writing. 

LINKS:
Website: https://eileentroemel.com/ 
Twitter https://twitter.com/EileenTroemel
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/EileenTroemelAuthor/ 
Instagram https://www.instagram.com/eileentroemel/
LinkedIn https://www.linkedin.com/in/eileen-troemel-6667825b/
MeWe https://mewe.com/i/eileentroemel
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7868345.Eileen_Troemel

Jan SelbourneJan Selbourne:
Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales

Website: https://nomadauthors.com/JanSelbourne/index.html
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/JanSelbourne
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jan.selbourne
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14661584.Jan_Selbourne?from_search=true
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Jan-Selbourne/
/B0184OSZ6E/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/jan-selbourne-2817b6140/

8 Romantic Tracks for Your Playlist Pleasure: JL Peridot

Sometimes I read with music playing in the background. When it’s the right kind of music, and I’m in the right kind of mood, it seems to add to the atmosphere of the book. The same goes for writing. Good sounds bring an energy that feeds the imagination.

Today, I’m rounding up eight of the gorgeous, romantic tunes that have graced my playlists over the last couple of years. Hope you like them!

8. Lo-Fang — You’re The One That I Want


This slow jam cover of that song from Grease — yep, that one indeed — features sultry vocals, warm percussion and woeful strings. It’s the perfect soundtrack to heavy emotional moments, perhaps where we learn the truth of what the MC and LI mean to each other even before they know it themselves.

7. Crywolf — Lemniscate


Another delectably moody song, only this time with airy vocals against a dreamy backdrop. Ideal for a paranormal romance or urban fantasy, maybe? I’m picturing that crucial moment in a vampire or shapeshifter story, where we walk the precipice between fear and love; savagery and compassion; immortality and the fleeting preciousness of life.

6. Ledes Diaz (feat. Santos Real) — Despacito


There are so many covers of Luis Fonsi’s Despacito, but I chose this one for its mellow and fat kizomba beat, plus Ledes’s smooth loverboy voice. Call it a chilled out, feelgood version of Fonsi’s smoking hot original, nicely matched with that turning point where the MC and LI realise their mutual attraction and look forward to the rest of the book together.

5. The Motans — 42


This wordy, easy-listening pop track from Romania carries an introspective yet optimistic mood. If you structure your playlists to suit the ups and downs of a story format, I’d pop this just after the middle. Right about where the LI comes up against a challenge that could easily be overcome with the right kind of effort.

4. Le Flex — Tangled


If you saw my post on retrofuturistic love songs, you’ll recognise this synthpop track. It’s got some serious romantic crush vibes, like say the kind you’d hear playing when the MC first falls for their love interest. It captures that dreamy split second where they realise they’re really into that person, and experiences that anxious joy of not yet knowing if those feelings are reciprocated.

3. Lo Moon — Tried to Make You My Own


An atmospheric track with a sexy beat, intriguing melody, and lush, layered vocals. Maybe this is our couple’s first pinch point, or those reflective scenes after a big fight: don’t leave me, I want you, here’s what I’m willing to do. Thank you, Stefanie Simpson, for recommending this song.

2. Nico Santos — Play With Fire


How’s this one for an angsty NA or YA romance? Even if you ignore the on-the-nose lyrics, this track conveys frustration and inner conflict within that smooth, high-produced contemporary commercial pop sound.

1. Blackpanda (feat. Mabbi) — Antes de Que Acabe el Verano


This song is a versatile one. The lyrics tell a “will they or won’t they” story, but that dreamy sound and driving beat might also work to foreshadow a “they definitely will”. In that vein, I’d call this one a good addition to a friends-to-lovers playlist, perhaps even a boy/girl-next-door kind of story.

Thank you, Nomad Authors, for having me today!

About JL Peridot
JL PeridotJL Peridot writes love letters to the future from her home beneath the southern skies. She currently resides in Boorloo (Perth, Australia) on Whadjuk Noongar country. Visit her website at jlperidot.com for the full catalogue of her work.

Preorders are now open for the relaunch of her steamy futuristic office romance, It Starts with a Kiss.

It Starts with a Kiss — preorders now open

Celeste is a talented engineer who doesn’t realize her job’s going nowhere fast. She’s a little naïve. She’ll cut code and solder cables forever as long as Owen’s around. Owen, on the other hand, knows exactly how badly things suck—he just doesn’t care. Sure, his skills aren’t what they used to be, but they’re still better than what Halcyon Aries deserves.

Then it happens. The company’s toxic management team finally cross the line. As both techies race to upgrade the station and to free the team from their oppressive contracts, they come to learn that life—and love—can only ever be what you make it.

Strap in for a steamy office romance in space, because sometimes It Starts With a Kiss!

GOLD! A gritty Australian saga, new from Thomas Greenbank!

GOLD! by Thomas GreenbankGOLD!—The Kincaid Saga, Book 1.

Blurb:
GOLD! is a tale of greed, betrayal, family conflict, rape, and murder. It is also, however, a story of love and loyalty — and of how one man’s pride and prejudice can lead to terrible retribution.

Malcolm Kincaid is a self-made man. He is also a ruthless businessman and opportunist. He knows what it takes to build and maintain a business empire, but how far will he be prepared to go to achieve his goals — and what will he sacrifice along the way?

Over three decades, Malcolm Kincaid uses, abuses, and dominates associates and family alike, crushing all opposition in his pursuit of wealth and power.

When he allows the pollution of an Aboriginal settlement’s water supply, however, he faces justice of a kind he could never imagine.

Buy links:
Amazon (eBook): http://viewbook.at/GOLD
Universal link: https://books2read.com/u/3yewpv

Excerpt: (The action takes place near the Two Brothers gold mine, north of Kalgoorlie, Western Australia, in 1980.)

Malcolm had already opened another can of beer by the time Jamie started the Land Cruiser and headed down the access road toward the Goldfields Highway. He stood on the verandah, watching as the receding taillights glimmered in the deepening twilight.

As Jamie neared the mine turnoff, he popped a cassette into the Cruiser’s player. John Lennon launched into ‘Beautiful Boy’, Jamie’s current favourite song, and he cranked up the volume as he swung onto the bitumen. Thirty minutes and he’d be home. Home to Rachel; and his own Beautiful Boy, 17-month-old Lachlan.

***

Warren Burroughs—Rabbit, to friends and coworkers—couldn’t remember a longer, more frustrating day. What started out as a routine run from his depot in Coolgardie, to Kambalda—a mining town 60 kilometres to the south—and then up to Menzies with a ‘hot shot’ delivery before returning home, had turned into an epic comedy of errors.

Delays and unexpected problems were a fact of life in the transport industry, but today had been one to take the cake.

A round trip of a little less than 400 kilometres, the whole thing should have been done and dusted by mid-afternoon. When dealing with mining company hierarchy, however, things rarely went to plan. Although he had been on the road by six am, and arrived at his Kambalda destination before seven, it would be well past midday before he was on his way north again. The mine site office had not been aware he was even coming, let alone prepared his load.

Communication glitches like these were common. He settled himself in the corner of the office to wait while the staff located the replacement pump he was to deliver. Then, of course, they had to complete all the necessary paperwork and finally arrange someone to load it onto the back of his ageing Kenworth for the next leg.

Next came the news that the low-loader organised to bring the pump out to him had broken down. He was welcome to drive on-site to collect his load, but first, he’d have to do a short induction course. Once he completed this, it was time for lunch, so there was another hour’s wait before he got the OK to proceed onto the mine site and collect his cargo.

After leaving Kambalda at a little after 1:30 he eventually reached his drop-off point around 4 pm.

Fortunately, things went more smoothly this time. Probably because they had been champing at the bit waiting for the pump; the breakdown having halted production for the past 24 hours.

Then, at 5:30 pm, he was at last on his way home. All he had to worry about now, he thought, was dodging kangaroos.

He was just passing Lake Goongarrie, a sprawling salt lake on the east side of the road, when a voice called over the two-way radio.

“G’day there, Rabbit, you old bugger!” It was a voice he knew well.

“How you doin’, Ralph?” Rabbit replied, “Havin’ a good run? How’s the new rig going, by the way?”

The north-bound road train, its three trailers loaded with supplies bound for Menzies and beyond, thundered noisily past. Rabbit’s unladen rig swayed as it did so.

“Oh, you know,” Ralph said, “same old shit, different shovel. I’m having a better day than you, apparently. I hear they held you up a bit down at the Kambalda site.”

The bitumen grapevine was working to its usual standard, Rabbit thought. “Yeah, you could say that,” he replied. “Sometimes I swear that if I had a duck, it’d bloody well drown.”

Ralph laughed, though Rabbit didn’t hear it and continued with a sigh, “Yeah, you know the drill. This is WA after all; ‘wait awhile’.”

“You got that right,” Ralph replied. “Oh well, you keep it safe and stay upright Rabbit. I’ll catch you on the flip side.”

“Roger that. You too, Ralph.”

The radio was already starting to crackle, so there was no time for any real conversation. Still, it was good to hear a familiar voice now and then. Rabbit wondered how the old-timers had coped in the days before CB radios came into being. For that matter, spare a thought for the old bullockies and camel drivers who’d often go for weeks or even months without seeing another soul.

Rabbit reached down and upped the volume on his cassette player. A familiar Slim Dusty tune filled the air, and he began to sing along, grateful there was no one else there to suffer his discordant rendition. He noticed a light-coloured four-wheel-drive approaching the highway on his left, about a kilometre away. Someone had been working late, it seemed. The land around here was dotted with many small and medium-sized mines. As desolate and uninviting as it looked, this was a genuine gold mine of opportunity, this barren land.

As he approached the mine access road, Rabbit eased back on the accelerator. Was that clown going to stop? Surely he’d seen the truck coming. His rig was hardly invisible!

Before he knew it, the Land Cruiser veered straight onto the road not fifty metres in front of him.

Rabbit jumped on the brake and clutch simultaneously, and as the tyres squealed in noisy protest, he braced himself for impact.

***

Jamie knew he should have stopped before driving onto the highway. He knew because he had driven out from this access road so many times before. He also knew that had he not consumed so much beer in the last few hours, he would have stopped.

But now it was too late for recriminations; too late for anything but to hold on and hope for the best.

The Kenworth’s bull bar caught the four-wheel-drive on the right front side, spinning it around like a toy. The rear of the Toyota then collided with the leading edge of the big rig’s trailer, which sent it careening off the roadway and straight into the large quartz rock with ‘Two Brothers Mine’ painted on it in bold, red letters.

Although the Land Cruiser was barely doing more than thirty, the force from the impact was enough to drive the engine block through the firewall and into the driver and passenger area. The steering column struck Jamie square in the middle of his chest, breaking several ribs and squeezing his lungs to around half their volume.

Immediately after the collision, the scene was eerily quiet. Rabbit’s eighteen-wheeler remained upright, but the driver himself was unconscious and would be for several minutes. Few truckies in those days, and in truth even in these days, bothered with seat belts. A trickle of blood snaked its way down his forehead and dripped onto the dashboard.

In the wrecked Land Cruiser, Jamie struggled to stay awake. A vain struggle, however. His heart, fuelled by adrenaline, was pumping hard; pumping his lifeblood out of his body, from severe crush injuries to his legs, and onto the floor.

Strangely, the cassette player was still working. As Jamie drifted into unconsciousness, John Lennon was singing; “Life is what happens to you as you’re busy making other plans.”GOLD! by Thomas GreenbankMeet Thomas Greenback:
Welcome, Thomas! We’re so happy to have you here.

NA: How did you come up with the idea for your book?
TG: The original idea came from a writing exercise while I was completing a correspondence course in writing several years ago. All I had then was the ending and a vague idea of a story line.

I started work on GOLD! while I was employed as a wide-load pilot driver escorting oversize loads—mostly mining equipment—around regional Western Australia. I did that for six years during which time I met many of the people who would influence the way I built the characters and situations in the story.

NA: What sort of research did you do to write this book?
TG: Aside from what I learned while sub-contracting as a pilot driver I researched the lives of various well-known entrepreneurs and wheeler-dealers. I also joined a gold fossickers forum where I picked up lots of information on gold-mining techniques.

The locations were easy, as I’d visited and worked in each of the regions in the book.

NA: A fun fact about writing your book.
TG: A pivotal part of the story concerns the creation of a fake gold nugget. This actually happened. Not exactly the way it does in the book, but if you research the Mickelberg Brothers and the Yellow Rose of Texas nugget, you’ll see where I gleaned some inspiration.

NA: What started you on the path to writing?
TG: I’ve dabbled in writing for most of my life, though I’d never really taken it seriously. In my younger days I was too busy trying to be a rock star. That didn’t work out exactly as planned. I saw a newspaper ad one day for ‘The Writing School’ (now known as Sackville Academy) and enrolled in a correspondence course.

NA: What do your friends and family think about your being a writer?
TG: I’m sure most just think of it as my hobby. They know about GOLD! being published and some have read it. They invariably express surprise when they do. I don’t push anyone to buy the book though. I’ve gifted copies to those who seemed interested.

NA: The biggest surprise you had after becoming a writer.
TG: The biggest surprise is how much I enjoy it and how I feel as if this is what I was meant to do all along. If I’d put as much effort into writing as I did to music I’d possibly be a superstar now. (Just kidding) I’d certainly be way ahead of where I am right now, that’s for sure. To all aspiring authors out there—it’s never too late (or early) to make a start.

NA: Do you outline books ahead of time or are you more of a by-the-seat-of-your-pants writer?
TG: A bit of both. I always start each chapter with an idea of what is supposed to happen. I make notes and add them to the side panel of my writing program. I even add snippets of dialogue and phrases that seem pertinent.

The end result, though, rarely follows the outline exactly. Sometimes the characters take me off track and I just follow along to see where it goes. I often don’t know where a scene is going to eventually take me. I swear, sometimes the characters just seem to come to life!

If it doesn’t sound right in the end, there’s always the delete key.

NA: What has been one of your most rewarding experiences as an author?
TG: Getting to know other writers. The author community is incredible. I’ve met a few in the flesh, but I communicate with several other authors and everyone seems so helpful and willing to give advice. The general attitude is that we aren’t competing for sales so there’s no reason to be jealous with information. There’s a very apt saying: A rising tide lifts all boats. I think that’s how it goes, anyway.

NA: Which kind of scenes are the hardest for you to write? Action, dialogue, sex?
TG: Probably sex scenes. I’m always thinking that if my characters get too kinky the reader might think I’m like that too.

I love writing dialogue. I think many books don’t have enough. Dialogue draws the reader in and exposes a character’s personality so much better than exposition. All writing coaches agree we should show, not tell. Dialogue is the best way to do this.

NA: What famous person would you like to have dinner with?
TG: I once won a bottle of Johnny Walker Double Black by answering this question. My answer? Nelson Mandela. (This was many years ago, when he was still with us) No, I wasn’t trying to be funny. I honestly think he would have been extremely interesting to talk with.

“Everyone can rise above their circumstances and achieve success if they are dedicated to, and passionate about, what they do.”

NA: What’s the strangest place you’ve brushed your teeth?
TG: I once spent a night in a roadside parking bay somewhere in the north-west of Western Australia. I was on my way back from delivering a load to a remote mine.

I’d run out of drinking water and brushed my teeth using beer. Trust me—peppermint and beer is not a great flavour combination!

NA: What’s your first thought when the alarm goes off in the in the morning?
TG: Actually, I haven’t set an alarm in the last five years. I wake at around the same time every day, usually between 6:30 and 7:00. After I quit my last job, it took me ages to get out of the habit of waking before sunrise.

NA: What are you working on now?
TG: I’m working on the first draft of what will become book 2 in the Kincaid Saga. It’s a prequel that follows the life of Malcolm’s father, Angus, and shows how he influenced Malcolm’s character. Hint: Angus is not a nice man, either.

NA: What is any question we didn’t ask that you would like to answer?
TG: What advice would I give to an aspiring author?

I’d say write, write, and write some more. Then ask another writer for advice. Don’t ask your friends. There are three reasons for this.

  1. They don’t want to hurt your feelings so they’ll say it’s great when it isn’t.
  2. They may be resentful or jealous and they’ll tell you it’s bad when it isn’t. or
  3. They wouldn’t know good writing if it bit them on the bum. (Unless they happen to be a writer themselves, in which case refer to answers 1 and 2 above)

Thomas Greenbank:
Thomas Greenbank writes gritty Australian fiction. His writing draws deeply on his diverse background and professional experience.

From years as a professional musician, factory worker, business owner, driver, ceramic artist, even crossword compiler, and more—to 25 years as a full-time career, there’s not much he hasn’t experienced. This diversity shows in his writing, as does his penchant for accuracy in research.

Now semi-retired, Thomas lives south of Adelaide, South Australia, with his wife — #1 fan and biggest critic — Linda. When he’s not writing you’ll probably find them fishing or walking on a nearby beach.

Website: https://thomasgreenbank.com

Amazon Profile: https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B08NTYX32B

GoodReads profile: https://www.goodreads.com/author/dashboard?ref=nav_profile_authordash

Charity Sunday: Shriners Hospitals for Children

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!


This month’s charity is one near and dear to my heart: the Shriners Hospitals for Children. Charity Navigator has awarded Shriners Hospitals “with its prestigious Four Star Charity award. Such distinction recognizes Shriners Hospitals for Children for its sound fiscal management and commitment to accountability and transparency.”

When I was ten-months-old, a polio epidemic struck Sioux City, Iowa and the surrounding area. Polio was not at all uncommon in the early 1050s, but this epidemic was horrible. I had been walking at nine-months. Then one morning I was crying in my crib and when Mom came to get me, I couldn’t stand. We have never figured out why I contracted the disease. Lots of public places—like swimming pools—were closed, and I wasn’t going to school or day care yet. Another strange thing is, Mom didn’t get it. No one has ever been able to explain it, but I have my opinion. All things really do happen for a reason. God knew that I would need a strong, loving mother to see me through the recovery I had ahead, and He kept Mom well.

Mom tells me that they announced the people who had died on the radio and also those who were admitted to the hospitals. In fact, hearing my name on the radio is how my grandparents found out I’d been admitted. The city needed so much help that the Navy sent in corpsmen from Great Lakes Naval Station, hundreds of miles away. For nine days, my fever was so high the doctors didn’t encourage Mom to believe I would live, and if I did, the odds that I might have brain damage was a real possibility. In other words, things were grim.

But I did survive (duh!). The damage wasn’t all that severe, either. My left side was weakened. Muscles in my left leg stopped growing as fast as those on my right and some didn’t work at all. In my first year, my godfather sponsored me to attend the Shriners Hospitals for Crippled Children (now the Shriners Hospitals for Children). They did a lot of work with victims of polio back then. Fortunately, Dr. Salk and his colleagues developed the polio vaccine in 1953 and the number of cases dropped dramatically until it’s practically unheard of today. (Years ago, a young girl asked why I was limping. I told her that I’d had polio and that the limp was something I’d had all my life. “Polio?” Her eyes got big and round. “You must be really old!”)

The Shriners Hospitals never charge a family for any medical care. When I went into the hospital for surgery, I was generally there for a a month or even two. During that time, they housed me, fed me, schooled me, entertained me, and provided all medical care, before and after surgery—all for free. Our only responsibility was to get to the hospital and home. I received the very best of care in a safe and clean environment, with the best medical staff, and I will be forever grateful. If not for the Shriners, I might not have been able to walk—or to run, to dance, to drive a truck, to live a life I’ve thoroughly enjoyed and loved.

Please leave a comment and I will make a donation to an organization for which I have lasting gratitude. Thank you!


Mystic Desire--Paranormal anthologyHalloween is right around the corner. Just in time, might I recommend the anthology Mystic Desire?

Mystic Desire is a collection of short paranormal romance stories. This is a chance to read and discover the work of a diverse group of very talented authors.

The themes in this book are varied, as are the collection of characters and artifacts, including Native American dream catchers, mystical jewelry, and characters such as lustful vampires, hot warlocks, a grumpy leprechaun, a ghostly terrier, a zombie apocalypse and things that go bump in the night.

From soft and tender love to hot passionate, kinky sex, there is something for everyone in this anthology.

Mystic Desire--Paranormal anthologyThe Sweetest Magic of All – Alice Renaud
When a sexy apprentice witch and a hot warlock go back in time to locate a magical amulet, they find more than they bargained for. It’s May Eve, the most magical night of the year, and normal rules don’t apply…

An Awareness of Evil – Dee S. Knight
Only two things stand between evil and a small girl: the visions of Amanda McMasters and Detective Brendan Gilchrist. Neither can afford to be wrong.

Bewitching the Wolf – Zia Westfield
The Witch, Alice Humphreys has poured her heart and soul into creating a magical B&B where guests experience the fantasy vacation of their dreams! Brodie MacEwan has been sent to investigate the mysterious death of his uncle. He never expected to discover his soul mate in his dreams. But is the illusion real? Alice knows that there is something all too predatory about the Scotsman and he makes her body tingle in places it shouldn’t!

Calling All Angels – Lora Logan
Elijah Baker, an immortal tasked with fighting against demons that exist on earth, finds peace when he meets his new neighbor, Celeste. But when he realizes that their love comes with a cost, he is faced with choosing between his calling and a chance at true love.

Dream Catcher – Callie Carmen
Long ago, a medicine man had made a matched set of dream catchers as a wedding gift to protect the Chief’s daughter and her warrior husband. He had called upon the benevolent spirits to keep the two soul mates safe and in a loving, healthy marriage. It was foretold that if the two dream catchers were ever divided the new owners would be drawn together as soul mates. Was that possible?

Life Saving – Anne Krist
Saving lives isn’t just for adults. Sometimes the innocent magic of a child can do the job better.

Love from the Mist – Patricia Elliott
When Jace Warden learns that his brother plans to announce his engagement at a family get together, he flees to the other side of the world to escape the joyous celebration.

Or at least attempts to… His plane never makes it, and he winds up trapped on an island. Little does he realize, he’s not alone; there’s a mischievous little entity milling about, and she wants to play.

Love Knows No Apocalypse – Patricia Elliott
Getting stranded in the middle of a storm was not Samantha Wheeler’s idea of an ideal situation, especially in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. But fighting zombies was the easy part; her heart, though, was a whole other matter. Thanks to a man named Steve Jones.

When they find themselves in danger, she has to decide what’s more important – dying for someone she loves or surviving.

Love that Binds – Carol Schoenig
On the outskirts of a small town where nothing grows, a young girl, Ianthee, is being bullied and accused of being a witch. Young Caleb, inexplicably drawn to Ianthee, comes to her rescue. Before they can explore their feelings, Caleb and his family disappear. What happened to him, and what part does a long-ago legend play in their lives?

Love’s Ghost – R.M. Olivia
“Sorry, babe. I know it hurts to hear.” John frowned. I’ll make this brief. I spoke to the man in charge and he is giving me one last chance.”

“Come again?”

“I’m allowed to make love to my wife one last time before I have to cross over. So, are you ready for your husband? Are you ready for me, Ingrid?” He lifted my chin up and ran his thumb along my lips. I felt a chill go down my spine. How could this be real? How could this be happening?

The Anniversary – Richard Savage
A cruel twist of fate wrenched Evelyn and Peter apart on their wedding anniversary. Evelyn’s life descends into darkness. James enters her life giving her a chance of happiness. Evelyn discovers a piece of jewelry, that has the power to grant her time with Peter on their anniversary. She adores James, but needs Peter. Can she ever really let Peter go, while there’s still a chance they can be together?

The Mortal Vampire – Suzanne Smith
Remy enjoys life as a vampire, never giving a thought to sucking every last drop of tasty blood out of his unfortunate victims and leaving them door nail dead. But his cold and carefree existence changes the day he crosses paths with the beautiful and mysterious mortal Angela.

Through the Veil – Jan Selbourne
A beautiful March day in 1875 ends in tragedy when the wagon carrying Helen and Marcus plunges down the mountainside. Generations pass before Rachel Finlay finds an old sepia photo of a man and woman. She knows them but she’s never met them and now, for the peace of mind she desperately craves, she goes back to where it began. In time, through the veil, knowing she may never return.

Unconditional Lust – Breanna Hayes
The massive, hideous merrow leader, Muruch, craves the taste of human flesh. Confined to the ocean, he feeds his horde with sailors from ships pulled into the maw of the Bermuda Triangle. When US Army Captain, Nurys Shaye, puts her life on the line to save him after being captured, his hunger for human flesh is shadowed by the desire for her body and her love. Will she be able to see past his appearance and trust him to break down her walls and teach her to feel?

Mystic Desire--Paranormal anthology


About me:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Be sure to check out Jan Selbourne’s and Dee’s newsletter where you can find exclusive free stuff to read.

Where to find her (them):
Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

New! Steampunk, BDSM, Shifter: Rajasthani Moon by Lisabet Sarai

Rajasthani Moon  by Lisabet SaraiNeither kink nor curse can stop a woman on a mission.

Blurb:
A bandit prince cursed into beast form under the full moon.

A brilliant but sadistic Rajah whose robotic sex toys mingle torture and delight.

A voluptuous spy on a mission from Her Majesty, tasked with discovering Rajasthan’s secrets.

She has never faced such a challenge. 

 When Rajasthan refuses to remit its taxes, the Queen calls on her most lethal and seductive secret agent, Cecily Harrowsmith. Cecily expects to have little difficulty persuading the rebellious Rajah to submit once more to the Empire. Instead, she is the one forced to submit – to endure unprecedented extremes of pleasure and pain.

Kidnapped by the ruler’s half-brother Pratan and delivered into the hands of the handsome but depraved Rajah Amir, she soon finds herself fighting against her own lascivious nature as much as the schemes of her captors. Her sympathy for the moon-cursed wolf-man Pratan only complicates her situation. Cecily has never failed to complete an assignment, but now she risks betrayal by both her body and her heart.

 Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been re-edited, revised and updated for this release.

Buy links:
Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/363-rajasthani-moon-steampunk-shifter-bdsm-romance/

 Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09DBMLQQG

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09DBMLQQG

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1100493

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rajasthani-moon-lisabet-sarai/1140045684?ean=2940165000041

Kobohttps://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/rajasthani-moon-steampunk-shifter-bdsm-romance

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58835067-rajasthani-moon

Online Excerpt:
https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2021/08/celebrating-my-new-release-steampunk.html

Rajasthani Moon by Lisabet SaraiIs Rajasthani Moon erotic romance?
It would have been much faster to fly.

 Alas, Cecily Harrowsmith—special agent for Her Majesty the Queen, expert in the martial arts of three continents, past mistress of princes, potentates and the occasional prime minister—was afraid of flying. She despised herself for this weakness, but not enough to board one of the Empire’s sleek, viridium-powered airships, strap herself into her seat and hope for the best.

 Thus begins my most recent release, Rajasthani Moon, a book that deliberately defies categorization. It contains elements of the steam punk and paranormal sub-genres, plus quite a lot of moderately extreme BDSM and a M/F/M ménage. It features a kick-ass Rubenesque heroine, a billionaire Rajah and a sexy, deliciously disreputable bandit. It flirts with non-consensual fantasies and lesbian attraction. It has some funny moments, not infrequently associated with sex. Oh, and it’s a romance, with what I hope is a sublimely satisfying happy ending (although I won’t tell you who ends up with whom!) 

Writing this book involved taking risks. I’ve observed how readers cling to their favorite genres. I’m breaking rules right and left with this novel. Will the market embrace my mash-up? Or will readers run away in droves, terrified of the unfamiliar?

Producing the same sort of stories, again and again, can be comfortable. It may help sales, too. To grow as authors, though, we have to leave safety behind. We must step out onto that high pinnacle of creativity and let go, defying the fear that we’ll plummet ignominiously to the ground. We have to get over our fear of flying.

Snippet:
“Wait a minute. ‘Cecily’, you said? Something’s tickling the back of my brain… Let me examine the Universal Electropaedia…” In the ensuing pause, Pratan glanced over his shoulder towards the bed. She assumed a demeanour of indifference. “Ah, yes…Dark complexion, you say, and blue eyes?”

“Correct.”

“Between twenty-five and thirty years of age? About eleven stone?”

“Ten stone four pounds!” Cecily interjected before she could help herself.

“Yes, and tall too, for a woman. And from the way she’s straining against the ropes, I’d say she understands every word we’re saying!”

Her spirits sank. Did the Electropaedia actually include an entry for her? Why hadn’t the Empire’s censors excised it? This unforgivable breach of security might well have sealed her fate, though she wasn’t about to give up yet.

“Brother, I believe that you’ve succeeded in capturing one of Queen Victoria’s most notorious agents—Miss Cecily Harrowsmith. According to reports, she is brave, brilliant, beautiful, and as dangerous as a king cobra.”

Pratan rubbed his bruised shin where she’d kicked him and grinned at her with genuine menace. “That sounds like her.”

Rajasthani Moon by Lisabet SaraiExcerpt:
It would have been much faster to fly.

Alas, Cecily Harrowsmith—special agent for Her Majesty the Queen, expert in the martial arts of three continents, past mistress of princes, potentates and the occasional prime minister—was afraid of flying. She despised herself for this weakness, but not enough to board one of the Empire’s sleek, viridium-powered airships, strap herself into her seat and hope for the best.

Hence the current tedious journey. Cecily peered out of the window of her carriage at the endless expanse of russet-coloured desert stretching in all directions. The mere sight of all that sand was enough to make her throat burn. She sipped her tepid tea, wondering for the twentieth time why she’d accepted this bloody assignment.

For England, of course, and the good of the Empire. Her Majesty could scarcely afford to have her vassal states simply refuse to pay their taxes. When the Rajah of Jaipur had expelled Her Majesty’s tax collectors and declared his kingdom independent, the Queen had imposed a viridium embargo. No society these days could function without the energy-rich mineral. At least this was the theory. Yet the Rajah and his half-brother had held out for the past three years, despite being completely cut off from the Empire’s supply lines.

Cecily’s job was to discover how the isolated principality had managed to survive. She’d also been instructed to convince the errant rulers to return to the bosom of the Empire, if at all possible. If persuasion failed, she was authorised to use force. However, she doubted this would be necessary. Persuasion was after all her forte.

Once more she extracted the portraits of the twin rulers of Rajasthan from her portmanteau to study their countenances. Both had skin the colour of nicely browned toast. Amir, the official Rajah, was clean-shaven, with deep-set eyes, a prominent nose and lips as full as a girl’s. He wore his hair in European style but the rainbow-hued turban perched on his head as well as the loops piercing his well-shaped ears were more than enough to dispel any notion that he’d been anglicised. Pratan looked far less civilised, with tangled black locks reaching to his shoulders and a drooping moustache that gave him a permanent sneer. He shared his brother’s regal nose but his features were more angular, less finished-looking than his aristocratic sibling’s. Both men were strikingly handsome, each in his own way. The paintings provided little information about their figures, but, given the stark, unforgiving nature of their country, Cecily thought it unlikely that they’d be stout. With luck, their bodies would have the same masculine appeal as their faces.

With a sigh, she tucked the images away and settled back against the cushions. Cecily was a woman of action. The two-day journey from Bombay had sorely tried her patience. Miserable roads—cart tracks, really—had limited the speed of her private motorised carriage. She could have travelled many times faster on Britain’s macadam highways.

Nevertheless, she’d been glad to escape the superficial, conservative society of London—the falseness and the gossip, back-stabbing and double-dealing. Not to mention the dank weather and the horribly uncomfortable clothing. She knew that a tightly-laced corset accentuated her ample curves, but she far preferred native dress, especially in this kind of heat. She shook out the voluminous skirt of her chaniya choli, admiring the little mirrors sewn into the blue and orange print. The Rajasthani women wore nothing underneath and she followed suit. It was far more practical when one had to answer the call of nature out here in the middle of nowhere.

The quilted fabric brushed against her unprotected pubis, engendering a pleasant tickling sensation. Now there was an idea for passing the time… When she glanced outside again, she noted that the sun was lower. The land had become rougher and greener as they approached the foothills of the Aravalli range. Jaipur was located on the other side of the mountains.

She tapped one of the buttons on the polished wood control panel to her right in order to signal the driver. “How much longer before we arrive?” she asked in fluent Hindi.

“At least three hours, ma’am,” came the disembodied voice. “Not until after dark, I should think.”

After dark. That wasn’t good at all. Bandits tended to flourish in this sort of wild landscape. “Well, do your best to get us there as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Three hours. She checked the dagger strapped to her upper arm, well-hidden under her sleeve. When she made a fist, the knife shot into her hand, ready for use. Her Majesty’s engineers truly had no equal. There was a miniature pistol tucked into her waist as well, a marvel of workmanship no less deadly for its tiny size. These weapons would have to do. If brigands struck, she’d have no time to access the cache of armaments hidden under the clothing in her trunk.

Rajasthani Moon by Lisabet SaraiSnippet:
“Stop there, Miss Harrowsmith. I doubt I should trust you to approach me more closely.” The voice was deep and mellow, with a lazy, smoky quality that reminded her of full moons and autumn bonfires. The man’s English was practically perfect. His lilting accent only added to the charm of his utterance.

She found herself almost eager to obey orders delivered in such a lush voice.

“Kneel up. Let me look at you.”

Cecily tried to keep her gaze averted as she complied, though she was desperately tempted to see if the ruler was as handsome in the flesh as in his portrait.

His chuckle sent a shimmer through her, something like shame but hotter and sweeter. “Very nice indeed. If all of Queen Victoria’s minions were as delectable, we might be more willing to return to her fold.”

Rajasthani Moon  by Lisabet SaraiAbout Lisabet:
Lisabet SaraiLisabet 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 – nearly 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 and finally, on Twitter.

Charity Sunday: Folds of Honor

Charity Sunday: Dee S. Knight

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!


This month’s charity is Folds of Honor. https://www.foldsofhonor.org/ The mission of Folds of Honor is: “To provide educational scholarships to spouses and children of America’s fallen and disabled service-members. … Honor their sacrifice. Educate their legacy.” So, this charity helps two ways that are near and dear to my heart—it helps give people who need the boost an education they might not be able to afford, and it honors those who have given much. Please comment!


Burning Bridges by Anne KristI wrote Burning Bridges as Anne Krist. It’s not an erotic romance, but it’s a book full of emotion and is a true love story. The hero, Paul Steinert, is in the Navy and is about to ship out for Vietnam when he first meets Sara Noland. Perhaps his child could have benefited from Folds of Honor!


Excerpt:
Virginia Beach, Virginia – January, 1970

“Of all days to debate about whether to wear the short skirt or the shorter one,” Sara wailed to her best friend, Cindy. “We’ll be lucky if we aren’t late.”

The blue Volkswagen Beetle sped down the highway. Or as fast as it could speed, with the tiny engine pushing from the rear, and Sara having to shift gears so often because of traffic and lights. She huffed in frustration.

“Oh, we have plenty of time. I had to make sure I looked just right. You never know who we’ll see,” Cindy replied with her usual assurance.

“I hope you’re right.”

“You worry, Sara, and things always turn out okay. Just keep your mind on driving and we’ll be fine.” Cindy clasped her hands and shrieked with excitement. “I can’t believe our parents bought us tickets to see Michael Wales!”

That brought a real smile to Sara’s face. “I know! Our parents are the best.”

She flicked a knob on the radio as she veered into the parking lot, silencing Neil Diamond’s “Holly Holy.”

“See? I told you. You worry too much. We’re here with a good ten minutes to spare.” Cindy flipped her straight blonde hair over her shoulder. She turned the rearview mirror toward her and applied a fresh coating of lip gloss.

“We’re only ‘here’ if I can find a place to park.” Sara maneuvered her little car up one aisle and down another, until finally, “Good! There’s one.” Before she could get to the space, a sleek, red Corvette swung in.

“Oh, no! That was our space,” Cindy cried.

Two men unfolded themselves from the little sports car, the driver with olive skin and hair as dark as the passenger’s was golden. The men started toward the building. Suddenly, the passenger looked at Sara and then back at the space.

The low-hanging sun framed him, a fair giant with short hair and the physique of a warrior. For a brief moment, Sara pictured him with sword and shield at the helm of a Norse sailing vessel. Her heart fluttered and her breath caught. Then she brought herself under control.

The girls watched as he talked to the dark-haired man and gestured to them. The driver looked around then shook his head before continuing toward the building. The blond shrugged apologetically at Sara and followed his friend.

“Shoot! I thought maybe he would have a heart.” Sara eased off the clutch and started forward again.

“They were cute.” Cindy swerved in her seat to watch the men as they picked their way through the parked cars. “I wonder what the chances are of seeing them–”

A piercing whistle cut through Cindy’s words. “Stop, Sara! The blond guy is waving at us.”

Sara turned to look behind them. The blond man was indeed waving, gesturing for her to come toward him. “What does he want?” she muttered. Deciding to ignore him, she drove on, turning to the right.

He whistled again.

“He wants you to pull around there. He’s still waving.”

“Oh, all right,” Sara grumbled. “But make sure your door is locked, Cindy. And don’t roll your window down.”

Cindy laughed. “You sound like my mother. What do you think is going to happen right here in the parking lot?”

Sara managed a U-turn and drove to where the man stood. Rolling her window down an inch, she said loudly, “What is it?”

He bent down to peer through the glass at her, a lopsided grin on his face. Good Lord, he was cute. Muscled shoulders and arms, angular, strong features, hair a rich blond, and dark, sapphire-blue eyes.

“Oh, my heavens,” she heard Cindy say under her breath.

For once, Sara understood her friend’s meaning. His grin made her stomach do flip-flops and her palms sweat.

“I don’t bite,” he said around a chuckle, motioning to the almost closed window. “I just wanted to tell you, there’s a place right over there. I think you can squeeze your Bug into it.” He turned and pointed at a half space at the end of the aisle, a couple of cars away.

Flashing him a look of gratitude, she put the little car in gear and pulled into the spot. The tall, handsome stranger followed.

When Sara turned off the engine, the guy opened the door for Cindy and held out his hand to assist her. Out of nowhere, a sharp pang of jealousy struck Sara. Its intensity and suddenness disturbed her. After all, she didn’t know this man; what difference did it make if he and Cindy hit it off?

By the time she collected her purse, stepped out and made sure the doors were locked, Cindy and the mystery man were like old friends. Again she felt the Green Monster strike, and gave a mental shake to rid herself of its clutches.

“Sara,” Cindy said, smiling dreamily at the tall man, “this is Paul Steinert. Wasn’t he just wonderful, finding us this space?” She tittered.

It was all Sara could manage, not to gape. Cindy always flirted but tittering was something new.

“Paul, this is my best friend, Sara Noland.”

Paul smiled and held out his hand. “Hello, Sara. I’m sorry about the other space. This one is closer to the door, though.”

She locked gazes with him and her tongue twisted in her mouth. Surges of heat flew through her body. If his smile had that effect, what would his touch do to her? Something wonderful.

No, something forbidden.

Buy or Read for free on KU: mybook.to/BurningBridges

About me:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Be sure to check out Jan Selbourne’s and my newsletter where you can find exclusive free stuff to read.

Where to find her (them):

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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