Take the Bull by the Horns

 Today I've got Cynthia Terelst sharing her story. 

Welcome Cynthia!

Take the Bull by the Horns 

Series – Love Down Under

Genre – Contemporary Romance

Tropes – single dad/nanny, small town, found family

Author – Cynthia Terelst

Release Date – 31 July 2023

Buy Link - https://books2read.com/Bull?store=amazon

 

Blurb

Love can heal the scars on your heart

Lachlan

So what if I’ve gone through four nannies in three short years? I know what’s best for my children and it’s not the nanny my mother and ex-wife have hired.

Peyton may be all kinds of beautiful but she is totally unsuitable—city girl, former doctor and no experience.

Problem is, everybody loves her. I don’t want to feel the same; one failure at love is enough. Besides, I have a duty to my family and the farm.

Except the more I spend time with her, the more I’m drawn to her honesty and bravery. I need to remember, a farm is no place for a woman like Peyton; she will not stay.

Peyton

After an accident put an end to my surgical career, I jumped at the opportunity to be a nanny. Moving to Australia will get me away from my controlling family. It’s time I start making my own decisions.

But falling for my boss is not the wisest one I could make, even if it feels right. It doesn’t hurt that his singing makes my panties melt.

Everything is perfect—I feel heard and seen for the first time (and I don’t just mean my scars).

I’m where I belong…until my family get involved. Then I’m left with no job and no home.

Now I need to make the biggest decision of all—stand up to my family, choose my happy and fight for love.


**This is a standalone romance with medium heat**

Short Blurb

Peyton wasn’t out to find love, she only wanted to find her voice. Lachlan thought he had everything he needed until he met Peyton. Both are broken. Both are strong. Can an American nanny and an Australian farmer mend their damaged souls together? 

Logline

A nanny and single dad risk their hearts for the chance at a forever love

 

Excerpts

 Two figures made their way down the stairs. I knew Ann instantly from our video calls.

The man beside her was striking. Sunlight glinted off his thick golden-brown hair like surgical blades would shine under focused lighting. He was tanned and muscular with tattoos down one arm, a mixture of black and white and colour, indistinct at this distance. Wowsers, I didn’t know farmers looked like that. I blushed. While Ann oozed warmth, he oozed stoic resignation.

***

“Are you still tired?” Thomas asked. 

What gave me away? “Some strange noises woke me up.” 

Lachlan’s boots were on, but he remained seated.

“What sort of noises?” Thomas asked, his eyes wide as he perched himself on a stool at the counter.

“Scratching and grunting.”

“Oh, that’s probably Mr Harrison.”

“Who?” What would a man be doing under my unit?

A light chuckle came from the bench outside.

“Mr Harrison. The wombat,” Thomas said.

A wombat, right. What was a wombat? “Are they dangerous?”

“Mr Harrison won’t hurt you. He’s used to us.”

“OK.” He wasn’t used to me.

I blushed. Lachlan must think I was crazy or stupid. He could have tried to be reassuring instead of just sitting on the bench, not saying a word. Everyone knew half the animals in Australia wanted to kill you.

 ***

 

Bruce laughed as we left the coop. “Goliath lives for another day.”

“She’s a good layer. There’s no need to resort to drastic measures just because she’s a bit broody,” Lachlan said. 

Bruce gave me a wink. “Yeah, I mean, you’re more than a bit broody, and we still let you live.”

Lachlan shot him a glare. 

Bruce smirked. “What do you think, Peyton? You live with the man. How broody is he?”

I held up my hands. “Leave me out of this.”

“I think that means a lot broody.”

Lachlan considered me. 

It’s not like I’d said he was a lot broody straight out. But the man was moody. I didn’t know how to take him sometimes. One minute he was chatty, like the night we watched Mr Harrison, and then he was virtually mute, like when he found me in his gym.

***

“Scarlet, why don’t you check on the vegetable garden with Peyton,” Jane said.

Peyton took the cue. “Oh yes, you should see how the plants have grown.”

I watched as they left the house. Peyton’s legs were browning up.

“So, how was it?” Jane asked.

“How was what?”

“Sharing a house with Peyton.”

Surely she wasn’t serious. That’s what she wanted to talk about? How much did she already know? The talk on this farm reached her in Tamworth as if she still lived here.

“Peyton is respectful of my time and space. I appreciate that.”

“Right, so you didn’t eat meals together?”

“We live in the same house. It only makes sense that we eat together.” 

“And you didn’t watch TV together?” 

Mum or Bruce? Could have been Mum. She’d dropped around one night, and we were on the couch watching what I refer to as Peyton’s medical show.

“I wanted her to feel comfortable, to treat the place as her own.” 

Jane smirked. “Right, and the way you watch her, is that to make her feel comfortable too?” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jane’s smirk grew. She was baiting me. “Oh, nothing.”

“I do not watch Peyton. “

I didn’t. I didn’t notice the way she carried herself or how nice her legs were or the way she laughed at Bruce’s poor attempts at comedy or how she was deep in thought when they were assessing a patient on TV. I did think about what she told me about how her fiancé had treated her so badly. No one deserved to be treated like that, especially Peyton. 

“Tell yourself whatever you like,” Jane said. 

***

“Peyton.” Lachlan’s voice aroused me from my sleep. I forced my eyes open. I was lying on the couch. Where were the kids? Lachlan reached out for the remote and turned the TV off. I must have fallen asleep during the movie.

“It’s time for bed,” he said.

I didn’t want to move. My eyes were awake, but the rest of my body was in slumberland. My eyes wanted to follow. 

“Do I need to carry you to bed like the kids?”

I let out a soft laugh. “I’m quite a lot heavier than a child.” 

“You don’t think I could?”

“No.”

Before I could swing my legs around to sit up, Lachlan had lifted me from the couch. I yelped. Then to help him with my weight, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I breathed in grass and man. Good man, not just aftershave and cleanliness. Earth and strength.

I melded into him, swaying with every step he took. Being in his strong arms, I felt secure. I shouldn’t feel like this. But I didn’t try to jump out of his arms. What was I doing? 

“Show off,” I mumbled against his shoulder.

“Just proving you wrong.”

He walked into my room and made his way to my bed.

“Is it wrong to like you?” I asked. My heart beat fast in my chest. Would he think I was stupid?

He lay me down on the bed. His face was shadowed. Was he going to answer?

“No, it’s not wrong.”

He bent down and kissed my temple softly.

Oh, the sweetness of it. I sighed. My eyes closed as my body floated in bliss. 

“I like you too.”

Was I dreaming?

I opened my eyes. He was gone.

 

Teasers

"Lachlan, you give me things no other person ever has. I'm brave with you, brave to speak. But it's not just that you let me speak; it’s that you listen."

***

I stopped outside my bedroom door and gazed up at him. He was watching me. My stomach pounded, rising into my chest. Did he want to kiss me as much as I wanted him to?

***

I sat in my Audi in the four-car garage, staring at the wall. There was no point in putting it off any longer. I needed to face my family. I needed to tell them the thing they least wanted to hear. And after that, I would hit them with what they least expected to hear. 

***

I wanted to live a simple, uncomplicated life where I could do what I do best—look after my family and the farm. Having a friendship with the nanny didn’t sound uncomplicated. 

***

Jane’s words returned to me: She’s tougher than you think. She wasn’t wrong. 

Peyton had strength, determination and tenacity.

What other misconceptions of mine would Peyton prove wrong? 

***

It took months for me to forgive myself, for me to know that it wasn’t all about me and my failure. But in the quietest moments, when you least expect it, those thoughts try to appear, and you need the strength to push them back. I had that now. The strength. And losing it could risk losing it all.

*** 

I couldn’t walk away fast enough. My brazenness was next level. Was I flirting with Lachlan? My boss? Scarlet and Thomas’s dad? I thought that checking out his butt was my own secret guilty pleasure. But it wasn’t so secret after all. It was mortifying.

 

 

Author Bio

Cynthia Terelst is an Australian author based in regional Queensland, where the sun shines 283 days a year. She is a document controls manager by day and a writer by night. Her contemporary romance novels share a little bit of history, some Australian scenery and a whole lotta love. Cynthia does not shy away from difficult topics, as she feels they should not be ignored.

 

Terelst has published seven books in her Love Down Under Series and has added short stories to multiple anthologies. She refers to her writing style as heat with heart. Her stories will leave you feeling warm and hopeful.

 

 

Social Media Links

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Amazon Author Page - https://www.amazon.com/Cynthia-Terelst/e/B07ZCTX8SB/

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Blog http://cynthiaterelst.com/blog/

Twitter https://twitter.com/CynthiaTerelst

Linktree - https://linktr.ee/cynthiaterelst

 

 

 

Are authors normal

 What is it about writers and authors that is so intriguing?  We’re just normal average everyday people who happen to tell tales. We get up every morning, dress, eat, work, and breathe. Yet people are always fascinated by us. I will admit it feels damn good. I always love when someone finds out I’m an author. They smile and get this awestruck look in their eyes.  Then the questions come out. What do you write? Where do you get your ideas from? You must have to have a vivid imagination.  And for that moment, while they stare at you as if you’re the biggest celebrity they’ve ever seen, you feel high. What a great feeling.

I’m always fascinated by the way authors are portrayed in movies. We’re portrayed as lazy, sloppy, and sometimes insane. Stephen King loves writing his authors as weird, obsessive and crazy. Ever seen The Shinning? Great movie. Loved Jack Nicholson. He plays crazy like no one else. 1408 was another great by him. John Cusack was perfect in this role. He played an author who debunks paranormal occurrences. Love the movie, love how John portrays the reclusive author who lost his only child and is divorced. Before he starts working, he sets out one cigarette.

Another favourite of mine is The Secret Window with Johnny Depp. Usually, Depp plays strong characters, handsome characters. But in this movie, he is a down-and-out slob. He’s a writer with…shall we say, problems.  I love how he sleeps, eats, and writes in this old ratty robe, his hair is an absolute mess.

But in reality, not all writers are like that. Okay, sure, we have our quirks, some stranger than others, but for the most part, we’re normal people. I have some quirks, but nothing so important that I can’t write without it.  I enjoy having music playing. Dance or pop. I don’t even have my own office. I write in my living room, on the sofa with my laptop on my legs. That’s it. See, I’m not SO weird

Any authors who care to share their stories are welcome.  Is there something you have to have, have to do in order to write that next great story?

Today I'm sharing my very first submitted story, Awaken the Demon.

BLURB:

Abused for years by a sadistic fiancé, Missy Green has had enough. Running away is her only recourse. Wanting a new life, she takes refuge with a group known as the Stargazers. Taken in by illustrator Draco Starr, Missy is elated to finally find peace. Yet, something doesn’t seem right about her host.

Born in the pits of hell, Draco Starr was once a fearsome Demon, For centuries he collected souls for Satan. Having done his time, Draco sets out to start a new life. Even with more wealth and prestige than anyone could ever want, something is still missing in his life.

Love.

Missy is about to have her world turned upside down. Discovering Draco is a demon is terrifying enough, but finding out she too is a demon is more than she can handle.

Can Missy deal with her new life, and the affection she is beginning to feel for Draco, or will the past come back to haunt her?

 

EXCERPT

 “I wanted to ask you a few questions.”
She turned her head to face him and the room began to swim before her. “Questions always questions with you. Let me ask you one for a change. Why are you looking for a mate?”
“To share my life with, of course.”
“Why me?” Her vision was beginning to blur. Was this what being drunk was like? She’d never been before.
He blinked several times before responding. “You’re the only one of your kind.”
“And that’s it? You want me because I’m rare?”
“I did. Before I knew you. Where is this going, Missy?”
“I’m just curious if love played any part in this search for a mate. See, when I accepted Ronald’s proposal, I believed I was in love. I figured we would have a long, happy life together, have a few children, grow old and die together.” She looked over at Draco. “Well, that didn’t exactly work out, so I was just curious what your idea of happily-ever-after is?”
“I’ve never really given it any thought.”
“Well, I would think that would be something to think about when choosing a mate. However, I really don’t know what you feel, being a direct descendant of Satan and all. Can you feel?” she slurred.
“How did you find that out?”
“I have my ways,” she responded slyly. “Can you?”
“I didn’t come here to be grilled by you.”
“I wasn’t grilling you. I was just asking questions. What’s the matter, Draco? You don’t like being questioned?”
He got to his feet. “I think I’ll come back when you’re in a better mood.”
“Oh, don't go. I’m in a perfectly fine mood now, Draco.” She swaggered toward him.
“You’re drunk.”
“Yep, yep I am. Why is it I get the strangest urge to rip those clothes from your body and see what's hidden beneath all that black?” She ran a finger along his lapel. “Yet, at the same time, I want to vomit at your feet.”
“What sort of response were you expecting from that question? Or was it a rhetorical one?”
“Yeah, the last one,” she slurred.
“This is all new to you. It will take time for you to adjust.”
“Oh, I’ve grasped it all. I’m now a demon who craves flesh and blood and my future is filled with uncertainty, but one thing remains.” The tears came up and flooded her eyes despite her fight to withhold them. “I can never go home again.”
“Missy.”
“No.” She waved him off. “Leave me be. I need some time alone.”
“You keep pushing me away, yet it’s me you need.”
“I don’t need you.” She stepped away and was shocked when he yanked her back toward him. Before she knew it, his mouth was covering hers. She felt the heat scorch her from the middle of her belly and down. Something inside of her beckoned her to surrender.
“I have never wanted a woman’s lips before.” He ran his thumb over her lips. “Yours tempt me beyond reason.” With that said, he vanished.
She slumped to the floor, her eyes flooded with tears.
Now why did he have to do that?

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Bodies of Light: An Alien Ménage By Lisabet Sarai

 I've got the wonderful Lisabet Saria today sharing her Alien Ménage story. If you like it hot, then you'll love this book.

Bodies of Light: An Alien Ménage

Erotic Energy

For most of my career, I’ve been writing erotic stories which include explicit sex. Now, many people think that sex is the ultimate physical experience, that it’s all about body parts, stimulation of erogenous zones, pleasurable sensations and ultimate release. That’s not my view.

Eroticism begins in the mind. If this were not true, why would certain activities be arousing in one person’s company, boring or even aversive with someone else? When I think back over my rich and varied sexual experiences, I don’t recall the detailed sensations, but rather, the emotions I felt and the connections I enjoyed with my partners. My personal slogan tries to capture this observation: imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

When I began writing Bodies of Light, originally published in an anthology of space-themed romance, I tried, as I usually do, to put a different spin on the tale. Love scenes usually occur in the physical world, but what if you’re making love to beings without bodies? What if you encountered aliens who were pure energy? Could a human woman love such creatures? Could they return that love? And if so, how would they express it in a realm where matter was not relevant?

These are the questions I explore in Bodies of Light. Nearly a century ago, Einstein demonstrated that matter and energy were inter-convertible. An entity composed of energy could take on material form, creating a body out of the light that was his fundamental nature so that he could express physical love. Perhaps, though, this experience would be far less satisfying than connecting and exchanging unadulterated erotic energy.

This realization lies at the heart of my heroine’s journey into an unlimited universe. 

Love travels faster than light.

 Blurb

Can you make love to beings without bodies?

Physicist Dr. Christine Monroe has devoted her lonely life to research on hyper-space travel. Her continued failure leads her to sign on to the Archimedes, a sub-light-speed mission aimed at establishing a colony in the Sirius-B system. Waking from suspended animation, she discovers that the ship is wildly off course and the rest of the crew are dead due to equipment failure.

At first she thinks the two virile strangers who show up on the ship are figments of her imagination - erotic hallucinations created by isolation and stress. However, Alyn and Zed are solid, real, and ready to sacrifice their lives for the strong woman they’ve found stranded in deep space. As her ship begins to disintegrate, Christine must choose between the planet she was sent to save and the two aliens she’s come to cherish.

Excerpt (Explicit)

“Christine.” The voice rang like crystal and flowed like water, a far cry from the flat, synthetic tones of the Archimedes.  “Do not despair, lovely one.”

Christine could not help smiling at the endearment. No one had called her lovely for a very long time. She kept her eyes closed, willing the dream to continue.

“We are with you, Christine.” Deeper, richer, edged with laughter, another voice chimed in. “You are not alone.” A cool, soothing palm cupped her brow. Strong hands settled on her shoulders, drawing her upright, then slipped down to cradle her breasts. Luscious heat suffused her, focused on her suddenly-taut nipples. They were smoldering embers ready to burst into flame. Soft lips brushed her neck just below the hairline, sending shivers spiraling through her. Someone unknotted her hair and let the weight of it cascade freely down her back. She sighed as careful fingers eased out the tangles. Each gentle tug at her scalp was pure pleasure.

The caresses ceased for an instant while her chair swung away from the control panel. Then the sensations began again, delicious and irresistible—unseen hands kneading her breasts, a warm mouth nuzzling her earlobe, a teasing tickle tracing its way down her belly, firm pressure parting her thighs and the barest graze of a fingertip across her pubis. A fierce stab of delight ripped away her languid mood. She moaned, arching up towards the retreating finger. Laughter poured over her like dark honey.

“You like that, sweet?” asked the baritone. The finger returned, pressing into her nylon-covered cleft and sliding back and forth along her length.

Christine gasped. “Oh, yes…” Swirls of fluorescent color danced on her closed eyelids. Familiar scents teased her nostrils, earth after a rain and new-mown grass. The finger moved faster. The soaked fabric of her coveralls slithered across her sensitized flesh. A climax gathered in her depths, heavy and full as summer thunderheads. “More,” she whispered, just as someone dragged the zip of her garment down below her waist. “More!” she yelled, as sharp teeth fastened on her bared nipple and hard digits plunged into her naked sex.

Dozens of hands fluttered over her skin, strummed in her pussy, plucked at her swollen breasts. The ripe clouds burst. A torrent of pleasure flooded her senses. Her body dissolved. There was nothing left but pure ecstasy, vibrating through her being like celestial music.

“Open your eyes.” The higher voice, the one that shimmered like liquid starlight, spoke close to her ear. The suggestion filtered through her post-orgasmic haze. This dream is certainly tenacious, she thought, her limbs still tingling. Usually I wake up after I come.

“We’re here with you now,” added the earthy voice, from the other side. “Look upon us.”

Why should she resist? It was just a dream. Her eyelids felt leaden but she forced them apart.

A stranger stood to her right. He had marble-pale skin and hair like spun silver. Smoke-colored brows shaded his piercing violet eyes. A pert nose and full lips gave him an androgynous look, but his lithe body was undeniably male—especially the column of rigid flesh that jutted from his groin.

Arousal flickered through Christine’s body, faint echoes of her recent climax. “Who are you?” she queried, her mouth watering at the sight of his sturdy erection. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m Alyn,” the young man answered with a smile that stole Christine’s breath. His skin gleamed in the dim light of the bridge as though dusted with stars. Fat pink nipples winked at her from his smoothly muscled chest. She ached to touch them. As though he read her thoughts, he reached for her hand and drew it to his breast. “I’m here for you, Christine. To cherish and to comfort you.”

His skin was silk under her palm. She molded the shape of his pectoral and flicked at the taut nub at its center. His cock surged in response. A drop of clear moisture gathered at the tip. She wet her lips, suddenly hungry. “Alyn,” she repeated, rolling the name on her tongue.

“And I’m Zed,” came the deeper voice, from her left. She turned to gaze at the second man, taller and stockier than Alyn but equally beautiful. Zed had jet hair and ebony eyes. With his prominent cheekbones, broad mouth and bronzed complexion, he made Christine think of some ancient tribal warrior. A provocative grin lit his face. He seized her other hand and curled her fingers around his swollen cock. “This is for you, little one.”

 Note: This book was previously published by Totally Entwined. This new edition has been revised and re-edited. 

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

Angels and Demons

 Angels and Demons. Heaven and Hell. What makes them so fascinating and why do we want to go to heaven so badly? No, this is not going to be a preachy blog so please don’t turn me off. I’m about to share with you my take on the subject and why I love writing about them.

I do believe in Angels and Demons, but maybe not entirely in the biblical sense. I believe in good and bad. Everyone has good in them, and everyone has bad in them. It’s how we choose to use them that makes us who we are. Have you ever stopped and looked at those people who lead a normal life, going about a normal existence, then one day, they grab a weapon and take out a crowd of people? What made them do that?  Had to be evil inside of them for them to do such a thing. Right?

When we think of angels we see the delicate features of a woman or child with golden hair, wearing a white flowing dress and white feathery wings, a gold halo over her head. That’s what we’ve been taught to believe. But what about the person that for no reason at all will pay for the person behind them in the grocery lineup without saying a word to the person. Or shovel your walk after a snowstorm. What about the person who stops on the side of the road to help someone fix their flat tire, in the middle of a downpour? A good-hearted person couldn’t drive by and not stop and help.

Now, let’s talk about the biblical Angels and Demons. God Rules the Heavens and Satan rules Hell. Angels do God's work and Demons do Satan’s work. Neither has a mind of their own. I often wonder if they get bored with their jobs—if there really are such things. That thought brought on the idea for my latest release, The Naughty Angel. I bring together an angel wanting something different in her life other than being the watcher of children and finds it at Madam Eve’s 1 Night Stand and a Demon looking for his next minion. Both are slaves to their masters. Being together is the ultimate sin for both. Yet it is so tempting. 

https://www.amazon.com/Naughty-Angel-Night-Stand-Story-ebook/dp/B008P2NT8K/ref=sr_1_7?crid=1G2HX7RZUQ6U0&keywords=The+naughty+angel&qid=1689098281&s=digital-text&sprefix=the+naughty+angel%2Cdigital-text%2C151&sr=1-7