The Ruination of Ramona Stone - A Victorian Lesbian Romance - LGBTQ - Sapphic - Historical Romance - Erotic Romance - Arranged Marriage #VictorianLesbianRomance #LGBTQ #Sapphic #HistoricalEroticRomance #ArrangedMarriage

Lisabet Sarai is here to tell us about The Ruination of Ramona Stone, a Victorian lesbian romance. LGBTQ, Sapphic, historical erotic romance, arranged marriage.

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The Ruination of Ramona Stone

By Lisabet Sarai

Victorian Lesbian Romance (Three flames)

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Blurb:

Should anyone discover their secret passion, they would both be ruined.

To Victorian London, they were childhood friends reunited by tragedy. Behind closed doors, they were each other’s undoing. 

Ramona Stone survived the bleak years at boarding school because of bright-eyed Juliet—her childhood anchor and her dearest confidante. While Juliet marries for love, Ramona accepts the husband her father has arranged, an ambitious barrister twice her age. 

When an accident leaves Juliet a penniless widow, Ramona persuades her husband to grant her friend shelter. Proximity kindles unexpected passion; sympathy turns to illicit desire. What begins as solace quickly transforms into a force that neither woman can resist or deny.

Trapped with a domineering husband, living in a society eager for scandal, Ramona understands that every touch is a gamble and every glance a betrayal. If their secret comes to light, she won't just lose her place in society—she will lose the only love that she’s ever known.

Born Again Victorian

Sometimes I think I lived a past life in the Victorian age. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been drawn to architecture and costumes from the period. My siblings used to tease me about how much I liked “gingerbread” houses. In my high school yearbook picture, I’m wearing a high-necked, 1880’s style blouse with an antique cameo brooch at my throat. I’ve been a huge fan of Gilbert and Sullivan – the consummate chroniclers of Victorian culture -  since I was introduced to their operettas at age five. I had devoured the complete Sherlock Holmes before I turned fifteen, not to mention other classics from the era by Wilkie Collins, H. Rider Haggard and of course Charles Dickens.

Possibly due to all the nineteenth century fiction I’ve consumed, I find it surprisingly easy to write dialogue and description that can pass as Victorian. I certainly can’t produce the same level of authenticity for any other historical era.

Over my two and a half decade career, I’ve written a number of tales that take place during Queen Victoria’s reign. My erotic romance Miranda’s Masks features a parallel plot that unfolds in late-nineteenth-century Boston. I’ve also penned a number of steam punk books, all set in an alternative Victorian world with more advanced technology than actually existed (although in fact the latter half of the eighteen hundreds was a hotbed of invention and entrepreneurship). If you like the steampunk genre, check out my Toymakers Guild series or my alt-Victorian novel set in British India, Rajasthani Moon. 

The Ruination of Ramona Stone is my first attempt at a realistic novel set in the period. My two heroines fall desperately in love, violating every rule of Victorian society. They understand the price they will pay, should anyone discover their secret passion, but they risk everything to stay together. 

It might seem strange that I’m so attracted to things Victorian. Given my interest in sexuality (both literary and personal), I probably would have had difficulty adapting to the prudish societal norms of the time. Of course, perennially popular Victorian erotica like The Pearl and My Secret Life suggest that there was a quite a gap between what people professed in public and what they did in private (or in the company of like-minded libertines). 

That’s my theory, anyway: that the Victorians were a far lustier group than they pretended. That’s certainly true of the characters in my Victorian-themed stories.

Excerpt:

“Bloody hell,” she muttered. “This is impossible.”

“Never mind, Juliet.” I half-pulled her back onto the seat. “We will be back home before long.”

“With all the servants, plus your son. Not to mention your husband.” She turned to face me, her eyes gleaming in the light from the side lamps. “I need you, Ro. I need to touch you, to taste you. If I cannot make love to you again, I swear I shall go mad.”

Love? Was that what this was? Last night I’d thought it sheer depravity. Now I began to wonder whether the force drawing us together might be more than mere animal lust. Juliet sounded as though she was on the verge of tears.

“Hush, my dear,” I murmured, drawing her into my arms. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to be together.”

I pressed my lips to her cool forehead, then tilted her chin up. Our eyes met, and then our mouths. Her lips were hot despite the damp and the chill weather. They moulded to mine as though we were fused. We drank deep of each other’s essence, sampling the flavours, savouring the textures. Juliet poured her desire into that kiss. I drank in every ounce, filling my body and spirit.

Kissing was all we could manage, but for the moment, kissing was enough. It went on and on, as the carriage made its way through the London streets. We simply could not let each other go. We would take brief pauses for breath, then dive back into the ecstatic mouth-to-mouth connection. In the shadowed privacy of the coach, we lost ourselves in a glorious fantasy of togetherness and freedom, forgetting that what we desired was forbidden.

We broke apart like sleepers roused from a dream when the brougham halted at my townhouse. Gas lights shone in through the window glass to illumine Juliet’s exquisite countenance. I realised that her cheeks were wet with tears.

With my thumb, I wiped them away. “Don’t cry, my darling,” I whispered. “I’ll come to you, to your room. Tonight, when everyone is asleep. Tonight we can be together.”

I wanted so much to heal her sorrow, I completely forgot my own shame.

About Lisabet:

Lisabet Sarai writes in many genres, but F/F fiction is one of her favorites. In addition to her single-author lesbian romance and erotica titles, her Sapphic credits include contributions to Lambda Award winner Where the Girls Are, Ippie-winning Carnal Machines, Best Lesbian Romance 2012, Best Lesbian Erotica 2015, Forbidden Fruit: Stories of Unwise Lesbian  Desire, and Lammy-nominated Coming Together: Girl on Girl.

Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her explicit literary endeavors. She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her writing. 

Connect with Lisabet!

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SINFULLY WICKED - Erotic Romance - Menage - Voyeurism - Dominance - Discipline - on AUDIBLE - Tina Donahue Monthly Newsmagazine #TinaDonahueBooks #EroticRomance #Menage #Giveaways #EyeCandy

SINFULLY WICKED

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Two brothers...

One woman...

Unforgettable passion.

 

Menage

Voyeurism

Dominance

Discipline

Alpha Heroes

 

Years before, Nikki fell in love with Mitch and Connor, betraying them as only a high school girl could. Now, she’s back and needs their help.

Powerful and commanding, Mitch has never stopped craving Nikki. Connor hungers for her as badly, but isn’t ready to forgive. If she needs some fast cash by working at their gentlemen’s club, she’ll have to audition by stripping for them.

Gladly. Aroused by their shameless scrutiny, Nikki’s willing to do whatever it takes to be near them again…even being punished in the BDSM Room or starring in one of Connor’s erotic films. Mitch won’t have it, unless he and Connor are the ones mounting and enjoying her.

On a sultry weekend in a secluded island mansion, desire reignites on camera and off as Nikki surrenders to their lust, dominance, and exquisite discipline, reawakening their timeless bond and the beginning of forgiveness.

 

PRAISE FOR SINFULLY WICKED

FIVE STARS - AMAZON REVIEWS

“Two men as powerless in her presence as she was in theirs.”

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Old betrayal and new hopes!

Hope W

Great Story!

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HOT!

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Excerpt:

Nikki Blaine smelled of magnolia and musk, the mingling of helpless female and seductive predator. A curious combination, but who said she couldn’t be both?

Hell, she was a freaking mess. Her palms clammy from anxiety, her nipples tight with expectation. The kind a woman experiences when she’s about to be spanked, then hopefully laid…long and hard.

Yeah, right.

She paced the spacious office like a caged animal, her high heels clicking on the shiny hardwood floor, the sounds keeping time with her pounding pulse. No matter how much she needed it—and by God, she did—soul-stirring sex, followed by aching tenderness, wasn’t going to be on the menu this afternoon. Going to the men she’d betrayed years ago, brothers she’d truly loved, didn’t count as the smartest thing to do, but she needed their help.

Stopped at the burgundy leather sofa, she clutched the arm for support. According to the secretary here, Mr. Wade would be with her in a few minutes.

Nikki hadn’t bothered to ask which Mr. Wade the young woman had been talking about. She would have bet this room belonged to Mitch. Scented by leather and something woodsy, it was darkly masculine with rich mahogany walls, copper accent lamps topped by bronze-colored shades, and classic cherry furniture. Solid and imposing.

The desk was nearly as long as a bed and wide enough for two people, maybe three.

Don’t go there. She had no right. It wasn’t as though she could waltz in here after nearly fifteen years and expect Mitch to give her a hug or a welcome home fuck…if he showed up at all.

Where is he? Nearly a half hour had passed since his secretary had led Nikki inside. She hoped after Mitch’s initial shock had worn off about her being here, he hadn’t decided against seeing her. If so, she couldn’t blame him. He probably figured she’d behave as cruelly now as when they’d been in high school.

She circled the sofa and paused at framed news articles of him and Connor published in well-respected business magazines. Those pieces were intimately familiar to her. She’d read them when she lived in New York prior to her ex-husband’s arrest. Through the years, she’d followed Mitch and Connor’s many successes, wanting only the best for them.

Smiling softly, she touched the first photo taken outside Wicked, their wildly popular gentlemen’s club. The reason she was here today.

They had to say yes to her proposal. At the very least, they had to show up. If neither did, Nikki wasn’t certain what she’d do.

The glass recorded Mitch’s reflection behind her.

Her heart stalled.

He stood in the doorway to his office, bathed in gauzy light pouring in from the arched window. Beyond it, Atlanta moved at a far more sluggish pace than Manhattan ever had, today’s oppressive humidity forcing everything to an exaggerated Southern crawl.

In here, everything unfolded in slo-mo, except for her walloping heart.

She faced him for the first time in too long, needing to get her fill.

Oh, Mitch.

At six-three, he made the sprawling room seem small, his build lean yet muscular, no longer the lanky teen. Ruggedly handsome, he wore his thirty years well. Laugh lines graced the corners of his beautiful hazel eyes. They looked golden behind his sooty lashes, complementing his olive complexion. Combed away from his forehead, his chestnut colored hair was longish in the back and on the sides.

Nikki reined in her urge to run her fingers through his thick, wavy locks, to touch and smell him, her face buried in the hollow of his neck, her body pressed close, lost in his heat and strength. Protected at last. Home.

A preposterous notion that made it difficult for her to join him, impossible for her to speak, but still she hoped.

His gaze wasn’t guarded or indifferent as she’d feared. Wonder flooded his features, no different from when they’d been in her parents’ garage after their first kiss. She was fifteen then. He’d been a year older and seemed so worldly. Life hadn’t been easy for him or Connor. She’d fallen in love with both brothers, but Mitch had made the initial move.

They’d been horsing around that afternoon, mercilessly teasing each other. Mitch finally settled the score by tickling her into submission. Before Nikki could catch her breath or slug him, he brushed his lips against hers. Their velvety warmth surprised. His bristly cheeks thrilled. She’d wanted him to hold her in his arms forever. Later the same week, Connor kissed her. Nikki never wanted to leave his side.

There was no guilt for what they’d done. Both brothers accepted the other’s claim on her just as she had, treating it as needed and natural. For the most part, their relationship remained innocent. They were her dearest friends, like none she’d ever known.

Their bliss lasted three months, ending when school started in the fall.

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Her Secret Ingredient - A Gourmet Erotic Romance - Rom Com - Multicultural - BDSM - Public Sex - Femdom #Romance #EroticRomance #RomCom #Multicultural #BDSM #PublicSex #Femdom

Lisabet Sarai is here to tell us about Her Secret Ingredient, a gourmet erotic rom com, featuring multicultural characters, BDSM, public sex, and femdom.

Read on for details...

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New Release!

Her Secret Ingredient

By LisabetSarai

 MF Contemporary erotic romance/romcom – mild bondage

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A word from Lisabet:

The Accidental Rom-Com

The first edition of Her Secret Ingredient was published more than a decade ago. At the time, I was pretty much of a novice at writing romance, as well as clueless about the genre as a whole. The impetus for the title was a series my publisher was doing called “What’s her secret?”. I had an inspiration, created a quick, steamy contemporary story about an ambitious young woman whose plans spectacularly backfire, and marketed it as contemporary erotic romance.

I know a lot more now about all the genres and sub-genres, labels and tropes, under the big tent of romance. As I was editing the manuscript for this new edition, I found myself grinning frequently and sometimes, laughing out loud. This is better than I remembered, I thought. It’s really pretty funny. But I didn’t  fully understand what was going on until I went to publish the book on Amazon and saw that one of the category options was romantic comedy.

Something clicked. Of course! I didn’t sit down to write a rom-com, but this book has many of the typical features of the genre: embarrassing mishaps, unexpected misdirections, a hint of the wacky, and a smart but in some ways clueless heroine who doesn’t realize she’s going after the wrong guy. It’s not as wild and woolly as one of Julia Kent’s tales (she’s the rom-com goddess, in my view), but it’s moving in that direction.

So if you pick up a copy of the book (and I do hope you will), don’t expect anything too serious. Except the love, of course. That’s about as serious as things can get.

Blurb:

Stir in a pinch to stir up his passion.

When the Tastes of France food channel offers Mei Lee “Emily” Wong a series of guest spots, she jumps at the opportunity to take her culinary career to a whole new level. Ultimately, she wants a show of her own, but first she has to prove herself to Michelin-starred network founder and effective dictator, Etienne Duvalier. A legend in the world of classic French cuisine as well as a domineering perfectionist, Etienne is skeptical about the culinary abilities of a woman from Hong Kong. To make things more difficult, the master chef is also so gorgeous that Emily can’t help being attracted to him.

Emily tries to solve both problems by spiking her luscious profiteroles with an ancient Oriental aphrodisiac. Unfortunately, Harry Sanborne, the low-key, bespectacled producer for Emily’s show, samples the delicacies she intends for Etienne’s consumption. His powerful reaction to her secret ingredient comes as a pleasant surprise to them both. Harry turns out to be far more impressive in bed than on the set. However, he can’t do nearly as much to advance her ambitions as Etienne. Emily tries once more to tempt the exacting Monsieur Duvalier with her special cooking as well as her feminine charms. The outrageous results threaten to end her TV career forever—until Harry steps in to save her reputation and claim her heart.

Excerpt (Adult):

“Hi, Emily! Got a minute?” Harry breezed into the studio kitchen, waving a clipboard. “Got a few things I need to go over with you, before tomorrow’s show. Do you want to be introduced as ‘Mei Lee’, or should we use your English name? And what about your certifications? Do you want the full list in the credits, or just your Michelin rating?” He stopped in his tracks when he saw the feast I’d assembled. “Holy smokes! That looks absolutely scrumptious!”

“Thanks. Let’s just hope that Etienne agrees.” I couldn’t quite keep the pride out of my voice. There weren’t many chefs who could put together a meal like this in four hours, without assistants and under pressure, in a kitchen not their own.

“Even our Monsieur le Chef can be swayed by great food. The desserts—oh, I’ve just got to try one of these…”

“No! Harry—”

Before I could stop him, though, he’d nipped a cream puff off the pile and popped it into his mouth. His eyes went wide as he chewed and swallowed.

“Unbelievable! Give me another.”

“Please, no!” I grabbed at his arm, but it was too late. He’d already devoured a second choux. “Those are supposed to be for Etienne.”

“Come on, you’ve made at least two dozen. He won’t miss one or two.” Harry made as if to reach for a third puff. I hung on, trying to restrain him, but he was far stronger than I was. Under that dorky clothing, I felt his muscles tense and shift.

He halted, his fingers inches away from their target, as if suddenly aware of my touch. Turning away from the tower of pastries, he gazed down at me. Behind his glasses, his mocha-colored eyes gleamed with powerful purpose.

“Harry?” My stomach did a somersault. My cheeks felt as though they’d just come out of the oven. Meanwhile he held me in that fierce, all-consuming stare.

I still had a grip on his left arm, near the shoulder. He reached out to rest his hand on my shoulder, as if we were about to dance. “You know, I actually see something a lot sweeter right here.” Sliding his palm down my back, he pulled me to his chest with a decisiveness that sent my pulse into overdrive. When he leaned in close, I smelled the almonds on his breath.

“Harry…I don’t think…”

“Shh!” He enforced this directive by fastening his mouth on mine in an energetic kiss.

He tasted, unsurprisingly, of sugar and cream. His firm lips molded to mine while his tongue teased at the seam, coaxing me to open. I shouldn’t have given in, but I honestly couldn’t help it. He might look like a bit of a nerd, but this guy really knew what he was doing. Wet but not sloppy, forceful but not brutal, alternating between deep penetration and playful flickering, he kissed with consummate sensuality. All I wanted was to swoon in his arms, to let him take me over. He seemed eager to oblige.

Cupping my ass in his palm, he yanked my pelvis against his. I gasped at the size and rigidity of the lump pressed against my pubis. My nipples snapped into aching knots and moisture flooded my already damp panties. He laced the fingers of his other hand through my hair, using them to control the position of my head as he drank his fill of me.

His mouth slipped away from mine to nuzzle below my ear, somehow finding the precise spot that’s directly connected to my clit. Meanwhile he groped my breasts, squeezing hard—harder than I usually like, but now I actually wanted more.

Apparently he did, too. He tugged at my blouse, trying to pull it out from the waistband of my skirt, and finally succeeding. The first graze of his fingertips along my naked skin sent a wave of arousal crashing through me.

“Wait—no—aah…oh…” My protests faltered as he deftly extricated one of my breasts and caught the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He tugged on the taut node of flesh, twisted it, flicked it back and forth. I swear I felt him doing the same to my clit. At the same time, he caught my earlobe between his teeth, worrying it like a pup with a toy.

Oh God! He was all over me, fondling and caressing whatever flesh he could access through my dishevelled clothing—and it was glorious! Crumpling my skirt to the waist, he worked his clever fingers under the elastic of my panties to stroke my soaked fur. I jerked against his palm, wanting him to explore more deeply. He appeared happy to oblige, pushing into my channel with his fingers while strumming my clit with his thumb. I wormed my way into his loose trousers and clung to his cotton-covered ass, feeling his glutes flex as he ground his astonishing hardness against my belly.

I’d never doubt my grandmother again. 

Praise for Her Secret Ingredient:

Her Secret Ingredient was a great short story. I loved the unique plot, the realistically drawn characters and the writing style. ~ Lucy Felthouse, Goodreads

I've always been a sucker for books set in the kitchen, and even as outlandishly over the top as this one is, it was a lot of fun…lighthearted and silly and sinfully sexy. ~ Steph, The Romance Reviews

 

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, LGBTQ, 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, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

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