Tuesday, October 17, 2017

New Release: Singapore Fling by Lisabet Sarai

Hi, friends! I wanted to let you know about a new short released by Lisabet Sarai, who I admire as both an author as a person. Lisabet has kindly sent me information on the book, as well as a hot excerpt. I'm not sure why this trope gets me so much, but I'm really into scenes where a man hesitates and holds back his desires. There's something very hot to me about contained desire, I think. Anyway, Lisabet supplies that in spades.

Singapore Fling:
Asian Adventures Book 1
By Lisabet Sarai

In the cleanest city in Asia, things can still get messy.

Thai entrepreneur Ploy Kaewkornwattanasakul has come to Singapore to close a deal. Ploy needs to convince tech whiz Jason Chow to license his ground-breaking innovation to her company on favorable terms. The future of her startup depends on her negotiating skill. When she meets Jason, though, she realizes she wants not just the invention, but the inventor, too.

Jason Chow is a brilliant engineer, a successful businessman and a bit of a rebel. He’s attracted to Ploy from the moment he sets eyes on her. However, he doesn’t dare respond to her advances, for fear she’ll discover his secret vice.

Ploy doesn’t understand why the sexy CEO has rejected her. She figures she’ll have to content herself with the cold comfort of a signed contract—unless the strength of Jason’s desire overwhelms his shame.


Up close, he smelled even more delicious, clean and masculine. His mouth was firm, muscular, molding to hers as she deepened the kiss. It opened to her probing tongue; she tasted coffee and breath mints. He let her take the lead, sitting passive while she devoured him. That was okay. Ploy wasn’t the shy type.

His muscles shifted under his shirt as he turned to face her, their lips still locked. She mashed her breasts against his chest, stimulating her swollen nipples. Shameless, she climbed onto his lap, straddling his lean legs. Her straight skirt rode up, baring her thighs. The hardness prodding her sodden undergarments told her that he was aware of her after all.

“Oh, Jason!” she moaned, finally breaking the kiss. Releasing her grip on his neck, she brought her hand down to cup the promising bulk of his erection. “Looks like you’re hungry, too,” she murmured. “But I can help you with that...” She fumbled with his zipper, stretched tight by his bulging cock.

“No!” The Chinese entrepreneur jerked, as if she’d given him an electric shock. “Don’t!” The chair rolled backward, slamming into the wall as he pushed Ploy off his lap. She barely escaped tumbling to the floor.

“What?” She clutched the table to steady herself and tried to slow her breathing. “What’s wrong?”

“We can’t. Someone might come in and find us.”

“Everyone’s gone.” Indeed the outer offices were empty and dim.

“Sometimes the engineers come back to work after dinner,” he protested. His sudden panic puzzled her. His eyes were wild with something that looked like fear, but the tenting in his trousers remained prominent.

“Let’s go to your place, then,” she urged. “Or my hotel. It’s an easy walk.”

“No, no—I’m sorry—I should never have allowed...” He wrung his hands, looking worried and lost. What had happened to the calm, self-confident genius she’d admired all afternoon? Jason suddenly seemed a decade younger than his thirty years.

You can buy the story here:

Amazon US

Amazon UK


Barnes and Noble

Read reviews or add it on Goodreads

About Lisabet:

Lisabet Sarai has been addicted to words all her life. 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. Sign up for her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Monday, October 16, 2017

Hello Again World

It's been a few months since I last posted regularly, and this is me trying to get back on the carousel.

Communication has been very hard for me lately, especially the last few months, especially online, and I'm trying to edge my way out of that corner. There are a lot of things I want to post—about my own work, about the work of my friends, about the world. As I ease into this, I'm not sure yet how it will go. But I'm guessing it'll be a bit before I'm able to write deep explorations of things. Those are some of my favorite posts to write, and based on my stats, they're posts that you enjoy more, too. They require, however, a sort of resilience that's in short supply for me of late.

So expect news items at first. Expect fits and starts as I dip my toes back into the water and gather my courage to swim.

To the friends whose work I'll post about, I wish I could do better for you. I wish I could post on a highly trafficked, active blog. But it takes time to build that sort of thing up, and I don't think it serves you better for me to wait, possibly indefinitely. To the friends whose work I planned to post about months ago, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I haven't forgotten you. I tend not to forget, especially not when I'm too anxious to move. And I'm coming back to you as soon as I can.

To anyone who's ever struggled with communication, being kind to yourself is the only thing I know that works, though it certainly doesn't work as quickly as I'd like. I went to look up my post about getting back on the carousel for the beginning of this piece, and I can't tell you how lovely it was to read a kind letter from my past self.

Patience, persistence, kindness. That's my wish for me, and it's also my wish for you.

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

An Excerpt from Simultaneous

Hey, friends! I wanted to take an opportunity to remind you about D.L. King's anthology Unspeakably Erotic: 20 Stories of Lesbian Kink, which is scheduled to come out later this year. I thought this time I'd give you a taste of my story, "Simultaneous," which will appear in the anthology.

It's a story about a dominant woman who wants to get nipple piercings at the same moment she's getting fisted. Minnie, her girlfriend, is handling the piercing, and an acquaintance, Alice, is doing the fisting. (Can I pause here to acknowledge, as a person with a bit of a fantasy about stranger sex, how hot it is for me to think about getting fisted by an "acquaintance," though I know there are some issues there with practicality).

Anyway, here goes:
“Almost ready," Minnie says. "Everything is sterilized. I’m just getting organized.”

I feel her moving just beyond my field of vision. For a second, I wish I could have two Minnies. She knows how to fuck me just right. She knows how to make me feel split open in the best way, how to fill me more than I thought possible, how to push just past the point where I think I can’t take it anymore, and how to tell the difference between a desperate scream of pleasure and an incoherent cry for a break.

On the other hand, if I’m going to get nipple rings in a situation like this, and I’m planning to make them permanent, it has to be Minnie who gives them to me. She’s got the sense of timing required to make this work just the way I fantasized, she learned to pierce for me, and I want her to mark my body for life the way she has my heart and mind.

Besides, I’ve got no complaints about Alice’s technique. She’s spearing me enthusiastically with four fingers, and Minnie must have done a good job with the rope, because I’m shocked I’m not sliding all over the place under the force of her assault. Braced this way, I can’t do anything but absorb each of Alice’s thrusts, and I indulge a long whimper before forcing myself back to saying words.

“All right. Alice, ease off just a little so Minnie can set up.”

She gives it to me hard a couple more times, a challenging expression on her face, and then does as I’ve requested.

“Just stroke the G-spot lightly. Tickle it, almost.”

“Tickle, tickle.” Alice smirks.

It doesn’t tickle.

I take a deep breath, letting the pleasure surround me and press at the edges of me, without surrendering to it.

“Minnie, if you’re ready, come here.”

The stand’s wheels roll closer. Minnie puts a hand on my head. Her cool touch makes me realize how hot and sweaty Alice has gotten me.

“Make your marks now.”

“Yes, Miss.”

I’m so sensitive that I gasp when Minnie’s pen touches down on one side of my left nipple, marking a spot to guide how she inserts the needle. My cunt clutches around Alice’s fingers.

“Down, girl,” Alice teases. “I’ll get back to the good stuff in a minute.”

There'll be a lot more good stuff in the actual book. I posted the table of contents a few months ago here. If you'd like to preorder this, that would be awesome! There's a paperback edition and a kindle edition.

Thursday, June 29, 2017

For the Love of a Solider Out Today!

Hey friends! According to what I've heard, For the Love of a Soldier should be out today!

It contains my story, "True North." I wrote it not long after the death of my father, who was a veteran, inspired by the young soldiers who attended his funeral ceremony. I couldn't afford much, and so I opted to go with what the U.S. government would provide. I was afraid the ceremony would feel rushed or perfunctory, but that wasn't the way it felt at all. Though I didn't know the young soldiers who helped put my dad to rest, I could feel their sincerity.

When I thought about it more, it made a lot of sense to me that these young men would take this duty seriously, and that they would be aware of the depth of its meaning.

The story grew from that moment, and I tried to write it in a way that includes my own ambivalence about military service in this country, as well as my father's. My father wouldn't have been the same person if not for his military service, and that's both for better and for worse.

I look forward to reading the rest of the book at long last!

You can order it at these links!

Apple:  https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/for-the-love-of-a-soldier/id1243788105?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/for-the-love-of-a-soldier-5

Barnes and Noble:   https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/for-the-love-of-a-soldier-annabeth-leong/1126495728?ean=2940154686140

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Love-Soldier-Military-Erotic-Romance-ebook/dp/B0721RQZJV/


Also, consider joining the Circlet Press Patreon... You can get seriously ridiculous numbers of books through the offers there, for very low monthly pledges.

Thanks so much for checking this out!

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

Sneak Peek: Journey to the Disappearing Sea

I promised a look at my story from Journey to the Center of Desire, which is coming soon from Circlet Press. So here it is, as promised! This is the beginning of a journal that features prominently in the story. Gräuben is a fairly passive, idealized love interest in Verne's original, Journey to the Center of the Earth. It's her lover Axel who has the adventure.

In my version, I decided to have Gräuben grow concerned and follow Axel on her own. The entry below is from shortly after she's taken this step, and it represents only the very beginning of this character's awakening and freedom.

From Gräuben's journal:

June 22, 1863—This book will likely do no good. Who will read it? If Axel is lost, I am not sure there is any person on this earth I still care for, or who truly cares for me. If he is not lost, I will find him and tell him all my adventures myself, between kisses.

Yet I write anyway, for I have always been such a very good girl. "It is expected that a proper young lady shall keep a journal." I still remember my guardian instructing me that way. Now here I sit with paper and pen. How many things I do because a person once suggested that I should!

All independent thought is not lost to me, however. I may sit with paper and pen, but I am nonetheless changed. Men's clothing, a pouch full of the professor's money at my waist, a man's power to commandeer ships and sign contracts and give orders. What a heady thing Axel has been hiding from me! Had I possessed these gifts from the start, I should have done thrice what he has. I would have traveled ceaselessly, asked every question, demanded every drop of knowledge the world had to give me.

I certainly would not have offered cowardly resistance to this great journey of the professor's.

But I should not slander my love. I am, after all, going on that great journey myself. There is no need for resentment now. And were it not for my dear Axel, for the fear in his eyes and my worry for him, I might still be at home, handling the minerals that are the scientific scraps of the professor's great intellect, offering smiles to all, and painting watercolors.

Perhaps the reason women are not invited on journeys such as this is that they awaken the passions. I know not whether it is the rocking of the boat that currently conveys me or the new freedom of motion bestowed upon me by trousers or the image of encountering my love in a place he would never expect to find me, but I am inflamed at all times. I want to sweep things out of the way, throw myself onto the narrow bed where I sleep, and… I am not sure what comes then. So much has been hidden from me!

Perhaps the knowledge will come to me as I become accustomed to my new way of being in the world. As it is, I have begun some scientific investigations. By starting with what is forbidden, I am slowly unlocking secrets of my own body that have previously been denied.

In distant memories, I recall my poor mother bathing me, slapping my hand aside and telling me never to touch there. Another command I have mindlessly obeyed. Now I have begun to transgress. There is much to overcome. I huddle against the wall of the cabin, moving as silently as possible, slipping a hand inside my trousers as if afraid of what I might find in there. When I do, I can feel the slap from across the years—if only other touches could remain so vivid! But there is something else I find. A wetness, a budding pleasure. Sometimes, I feel as if I am striving for a solution to a question I have yet to properly ask. I think of Axel, my body tenses, and it seems as if, could I but work a little harder, some vision might burst upon me.

If only I could be with him again! Together, we could unlock these mysteries.


I'll let you know as soon as this book is available in its entirety! I had so much fun writing a pastiche of Verne's style.

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Sneak Peek: True North

I mentioned that Kristina Wright's For the Love of a Soldier will be out at the end of the month from Circlet Press, and it includes my story, "True North." I thought I'd give you a taste of the story now.

Callie's father, who was a veteran, recently passed away. She relied on government services to bury him, and in the process met Rudy Andrada, a young serviceman who offers to help her. This scene is from the first time she sees Rudy off base.


When he showed up at my father's house, I was wound up tighter than the pair of pants I'd put on. I knew better than to dress like that for a day of hard work, but when I was getting ready in the morning, I couldn't stop thinking about Rudy's eyes, his strong jaw, his long, straight body. No matter how many times I tried to remind myself that he was too young for me, that he wanted to help me not date me, I couldn't convince myself to tie my hair into a ponytail and be done with it. Instead, I slaved over my eye makeup, and foolishly put on that pair of too-small pants.

Rudy unloaded a six pack and a two-liter of cola from the bed of his truck. "I didn't know whether you drink," he explained. I imagined how he would look tipping his head back to take a long swig from the bottle, its sweat dripping down the glass and onto the side of his hand, and my reaction informed me that I still didn't have myself under control. A man Rudy's age wouldn't want a woman like me, already weighed down by the grief of living. He'd come because he was a good person, trying to address a need he perceived. I convinced myself to hold back, thanked him for the drinks, and suggested we open the cola.

For the next few hours, he plunged into my father's world with me, moving boxes and furniture, cleaning the dust from corners, climbing onto a step ladder to wipe the blades of ceiling fans, and never complaining. I would have helped more physically, but the pants wouldn't really allow it. Instead, I wound up going through my father's files, looking for financial information or other papers that I would need to deal with. That job had been too overwhelming for me to start until then, but with Rudy in the house, I could take a deep breath and focus on one paper at a time. I didn't know what it was about him that steadied me, only that I couldn't have gotten through the task without his presence.

The newly cleaned fans did their best to cool the house, but the heat from outside pressed in, and my father had never bought an AC unit. Rudy pulled off his shirt at some point in the afternoon, the gesture casual, natural. It took my breath away. I came to a full stop, gawping. It wasn't just the perfect muscle definition running up his brown back. I was entranced by how close that warm, hard flesh was to the palms of my hands. With a few steps, a gesture, and a little boldness, I could touch it. It took a long time to unclench my fists, to swallow my desire, to go back to rustling through old papers.

Rudy accomplished more in one day than I could have in several. I asked him to stay for dinner, and did my best to show my gratitude, frying up steak and vegetables from my father's freezer, trying not to think about the other ways I wanted to demonstrate how I felt.

He was gracious, helping out however I allowed him, convincing me to share a little of the beer with him. Deftly opening one, he poured exactly half into a glass for me, then took a sip in just the way I had fantasized about.

I couldn't stand it anymore. When he came up for air and put the bottle down, I set aside my spatula and kissed him. He gave a surprised grunt, but when I pressed in tight against him, he responded, taking my shoulder blades in his big, strong hands and gathering me close. His lips were softer than I expected, his cock quicker to get hard. He tasted salty from the beer, and smelled of work and the remnants of the ocean-tinged cologne he'd put on that morning.

For a little while, he held onto me and let me kiss him, his mouth opening to my tongue, and his breath speeding up along with mine. Behind me, the pan hissed ominously, and Rudy was the one to break away and suggest I ought to pay attention to it.

I stirred haphazardly, my heart sinking when I turned back and saw his frown. "I don't want to take advantage of you," he said seriously.

I couldn't help laughing. "It seems a lot more like I'm the one taking advantage."

He bit his lip, the gesture reminding me again that I had a good eight years on him. "I don't want you to think you owe me."

I gestured toward the pan on the stove. "That's because I owe you." Feeling bold, I reached up and ran my thumb along his bottom lip. Now that I'd thrown my cards onto the table, the lust I'd been trying to hold back came forward in full force. There were plenty of things I ought to have been thinking about, plenty of reasons why that wasn't a good time to come onto him. None of that mattered since I'd kissed him."With this, you'd be doing me a favor."

He grinned at that. "I'm pretty sure I'd be getting something in return, Callie."

I began to ache between my legs. For weeks, I'd been in a gray fog of sadness and endless to-do lists. Now that I'd raised the question with Rudy, the world seemed vivid again, full of color that started with his eyes and spread everywhere else. "Do you want to?"

Practical man that he was, he glanced toward the stove, which I turned off before he could raise a full objection on account of it. Then he glanced toward the master bedroom. "What about your father?"

"You're talking as if he's about to come out and threaten you with a shotgun if you don't have me back by ten. I'm a grown woman, Rudy."

"You know what I mean."

I couldn't sidestep what he was trying to bring up. I sighed, pressing against his chest again in an instinctive gesture that felt like it could all too easily become habit. "I don't think I'd be able to do this in the bedroom, but I do want you. We can do it right here on the floor, maybe." I punctuated the statement with a little downward tug, but he resisted. "The timing's a little weird," I admitted. "I didn't plan this."

He pulled at one of the belt loops of my tight pants, showing he'd noticed how I'd dressed. I couldn't help smiling at that. "Maybe I had some hopes."

"Sometimes, when people are sad, they act a little strange. Maybe do things that they regret later." His eyes seemed unusually far away, and I realized we still hadn't done much talking. For all that I had a sense for who Rudy was as a person, I knew almost none of the details of his life.

I stepped back and gave him a serious expression. "That sounds like the voice of experience."

He shrugged. "Guys I knew from basic training, that sort of thing." He cleared his throat and shrugged, the gesture dismissing entire worlds—the same things my father had been reliving with his war movies and his nightmares. "Sometimes, I didn't take it well."

"You're worried I kissed you because I'm not taking it well?"

He pulled me in, leaning his forehead against mine. His finger curled through the belt loop again. "I just don't want to ruin anything."

I blinked. "I didn't know we had anything to ruin."

"Maybe I had some hopes." He touched my cheek, his fingertips rough against my skin. I must have looked startled, or even scared. Much as I wanted him, I hadn't thought about what it would be like to really be with him, to make love with the lights on and introduce him to my friends, to have to risk the possibility that someday war might become too much for him the way it had for my father. "We can take it as slow as you want," he murmured.

I wanted to tell him that was all wrong. I didn't want to take it slow. I wanted to take it fast, to sleep with him right there and then try my best to forget about it all. I didn't realize my face was wet with tears until he brushed one away.

"Think about it," he said. "I can get an overnight pass next week."

For the Love of a Soldier comes out on June 29th.

You can preorder it at these links!

Apple:  https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/for-the-love-of-a-soldier/id1243788105?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/for-the-love-of-a-soldier-5

Barnes and Noble:   https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/for-the-love-of-a-soldier-annabeth-leong/1126495728?ean=2940154686140

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Love-Soldier-Military-Erotic-Romance-ebook/dp/B0721RQZJV/


Also, consider joining the Circlet Press Patreon... You can get seriously ridiculous numbers of books through the offers there, for very low monthly pledges.

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

The Mark and the Caul: Origin Story


I'm participating in the blog tour for Sacchi Green's Witches, Princess, and Women at Arms, which includes my story, "The Mark and the Caul."

The idea of the book was to tell lesbian fairy tales, either original or adapted from classic stories. I sometimes enjoy going through my volume of Grimm classics and coming up with something fascinating and obscure, and that's what I did here.

"The Mark and the Caul" is loosely based on "The Devil With the Three Golden Hairs." If you read the synopsis, you'll see some of the themes I picked up: a child born with a caul, and an associated prophecy; and a king determined to thwart that prophecy. My character, Sam, overlaps with this character. She's good at being in the right place at the right time, just like the character in the original.

My other main character, Lucinda, emerged as the flip side to this process. I mostly invented her in response to the questions the story seemed to ask.

I think that's a wild thing when it happens. For one thing, "The Devil With the Three Golden Hairs" is extremely dense. I covered only the beginning of the story in my rather long entry to Sacchi Green's book. On the other hand, it leaves so much mysterious and unexplained.

The character of the princess, who appears in the original, is barely fleshed out, and that left me plenty of room to find Lucinda, and to make her a perfect match for Sam.

I really enjoy the process of filling in gaps, and writing stories based on fairy tales is one of my favorite ways to do it. I find that those unexplained mysteries leave plenty of room for eroticism, queerness, and other elements of human nature.

If you'd like to see an excerpt, I posted one here.

And if you'd like to buy the book, you can find it here!


Anyone who comments on any of these blog posts will be entered in a drawing for a paperback copy (in North America) or an ebook (elsewhere) of Witches, Princesses, and Women at Arms. Each blog you comment on gives you one more entry.

Here’s the lineup of blog posts—the links may be adjusted as we go along, so check back here every now and then.

June 14th: Sacchi Green-“Trollwise” (plus the Introduction)

June 15th: Cara Patterson-“Steel”

June 16th: Michael M. Jones-“The Miller’s Daughter”

June 19th: H.N. Janzen-“The Prize of the Willow”

June 20th: Annabeth Leong-“The Mark and the Caul”

June 21st: Brey Willows-“Penthouse 31”

June 22nd: Salome Wilde-“The Princess’s Princess”

June 23nd: Emily L. Byrne-“Toads, Diamonds and the Occasional Pearl”

June 26th: A.D.R. Forte-“Warrior’s Choice”

June 27th: M. Birds-“Woodwitch”

June 28th: Madeleine Shade-“Robber Girl”

June 29th: Lea Daley-“The Sorceress of Solisterre”

June 30th: Allison Wonderland-“SWF Seeks FGM”