Happy Wednesday, and thanks again to Angelica Dawson for organizing the MidWeekTeases!

This week’s tease comes from my erotic interracial romance A Thorned Rose in the Sand, which has just finished at 22K. In this scene, Stevie is trying to surmount the shock of seeing Ragab pleasing himself in the dunes.

* * *

Hours later, after a breakfast of mint tea and home-made biscuits served by Ragab’s mother on a carpet outside the tent, Stevie brought her luggage to her motorbike. The punishing sun climbed high in the bright blue sky, heating the air she breathed. She had a long road ahead, but before she even started, the thick rally clothes made her sticky with sweat. Worse, her head buzzed and ached from lack of sleep, and the warring emotions within drove her crazy. Not the best conditions to drive on a difficult terrain.

Ragab hadn’t returned, and his dromedary was missing.

She tried holding back her tears.

Was he angry with her? Did he think she’d been spying? If only he would give her the chance to apologize and explain. She hadn’t meant to walk into him in the dunes! It wasn’t like her to sneak up on people. She wasn’t the nosy kind—on the contrary, she demanded discretion, and so in return she gave it too.

Feeling sick, she strapped her luggage to the back seat when his mother came from behind the camp with a bucket of goat milk in hand and her daughters in tow. The little girls wore colorful dresses, and hair bands of cotton and pearls decorated their braided hair.

Stevie stopped working and asked the black-clothed woman, “Have you seen Ragab? I need to talk to him.”

His mother lifted her shoulders, didn’t speak English. Neither did the girls.

“’Ayn hu?” Stevie’s Arabic sucked, but she could at least ask where he was.

Shaking her head, his mother put the milk bucket on the ground, stepped forward, and took Stevie into her arms, as if to tell her she accepted her, or maybe that she understood how she was feeling. Holding her for a moment, she delivered a long line in this foreign language, voice raucous.

Stevie didn’t understand much, except, “Choukran.” The woman thanked Stevie, but for what? For bringing her little son to the hospital?

Oh, but that had been nothing. It was only natural to help. By the way, maybe she could stop at the hospital and say hello, since she had to drive through Erfoud to get to Fez. Wouldn’t that be nice?

She said, “Choukran,” too. She really did have a lot to thank for. Her two-day stay with the desert nomads had been a most enlightening and educational experience. An adventure of the rare kind. Even if she came back one day, this time, this moment would be forever etched in her mind.

Leila and Aida stood watching the scene, their dark brown eyes—the same as Ragab’s—sparkling with expectation.

Stevie searched a pocket, found a pack of chewing gum, and handed it to them.

They screamed and danced in delight, like it were a sensational gift.

Neighbors stuck their heads out of the other tents.

“Maʿ al-salāmah!” Stevie waved good-bye at them, before kneeling and holding out her arms to Ragab’s sweet little sisters. They came into a girl group hug that had her choke. Was this their last time together?

And what about Ragab?

Tears rushed to her eyes, filling them so her vision blurred, and rolled down her cheeks like warm rivers of hurt. Releasing the girls, she got up, turned her back to the Bedouin camp, and started the motor. No, she didn’t want to leave.

Copyright @ 2018 Lea Bronsen

After his studies in London, Ragab has returned to the nomadic lifestyle of his Bedouin family and the majestic silence of the Sahara. His days are spent herding camels and dreaming of the perfect wife, until a beautiful but feisty bike driver stuck in a sand dune turns his quiet world upside down.

When the rat-race of life in a big U.S. city becomes too much, Stevie Jones decides to change track and live her wildest dream – compete against the tough guys in a thrilling motorcycle rally across Morocco. But to her surprise, the real excitement is to be found away from the race track, in the shifting sands of the desert…
 

* * *

Find out more about the book here

Thanks for stopping by, and be sure to check out all the fantastic writers sharing Mid-Week Tease Blog

 * * *

Disclaimer: I’ve borrowed this photo to illustrate the book excerpt.

Happy Sunday! Sexy Snippets are seven sentences taken from a work in progress or published book, brought to you every Sunday.

Today, I give you a sexy snippet from the erotic interracial romance A Thorned Rose in the Sand, which has recently been submitted to a publisher. In this scene, Ragab and Stevie have had a disagreement, but of course can’t stay away from each other.

“Ragab,” she said.

His name pronounced with her voice provoked a pain in his chest, as if he’d strained a muscle. He kept his head down, didn’t know how to react.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

He swallowed a breath, choked on it, coughed, and finally cleared his throat. “Ugh… Me, too.”

“Okay. You go first.”

“No, you.” He hadn’t prepared any fancy speech. But he did have many things to say.

After his studies in London, Ragab has returned to the nomadic lifestyle of his Bedouin family and the majestic silence of the Sahara. His days are spent herding camels and dreaming of the perfect wife, until a beautiful but feisty bike driver stuck in a sand dune turns his quiet world upside down.

When the rat-race of life in a big U.S. city becomes too much, Stevie Jones decides to change track and live her wildest dream – compete against the tough guys in a thrilling motorcycle rally across Morocco. But to her surprise, the real excitement is to be found away from the race track, in the shifting sands of the desert…

Disclaimer: I’ve borrowed this photo of ultra-sexy model Alex Uloom to illustrate the book excerpt.

Happy Wednesday, and thanks again to Angelica Dawson for organizing the MidWeekTeases!

This week’s tease comes from my erotic interracial romance A Thorned Rose in the Sand, which has just finished at 22K. In this scene, Ragab needs some time alone after a difficult day.

* * *

Having found a discreet spot far from the camp, far from anyone’s curiosity (one didn’t get much privacy in such a small community), Ragab took off his tunic, folded it into a cushion, and put it on the ground. He glanced around. Big, wavy sand dunes flanked him, and the only witness to his sin—he’d lied to Stevie about having “one single sin”, although now that he’d sworn never to smoke again, it was true—was the big, white moon above, and it didn’t care much what he did.

He sat on his tunic, legs spread, and unbuttoned his pants.

Hours ago, unable to sleep, he’d snuck out and paced here and there for a long time, pondering about his attraction to her, weighing the pros and cons. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d concluded they were both better off if he stayed away from her and she returned to her life in America. She was going to in any case, and not come back unless she participated in motorcycle rallies, but how often was that, once a year? Yes, he had to forget about her, even though it hurt, before she hurt him more.

He closed his eyes with a reluctant sigh and pulled his cock out of his pants. Too much tension had built during the day. It’d started with worry… Then continued with lust, anger, more lust… And he’d been hard half of the time. There was only one way to release some of that strain and get his mind off the different subjects messing with him, and he’d waited long enough.

He stroked his stiffening cock gently at first, base to top, conjuring up the familiar image of the faceless woman whose sexy body had driven him to explosion in the past years. Sometimes she spun to him, full breasts with perky brown nipples swinging as she did an alluring belly dance to Arabic music, and sometimes she turned to show her generous ass, bending forward with her sex leaking arousal and pleading him to fill her.

Tonight, he preferred to take her from behind. It was more distancing, less personal. He wasn’t in the mood for romance or sensual dancing, he wanted a quick penetration and a stress-releasing climax.

An interference occurred, like when a television image blurred and another image transposed. The one of a real woman. Not just her sexy body, but her face. Stevie’s face…

No!

He shouldn’t think of her, shouldn’t. She was a mistake!

And yet the erotic picture occupied his mind — the red-haired beauty he’d become attracted to in the course of a day, washing by the well in the torrid desert, daring him with her wild greens while offering a generous feminine figure of sweet, velvety skin and perfect round butt cheeks, and, as she leaned forward, her open, welcoming sex.

No! Stevie had been scarred by another man, remember?

Stupid, stupid.

He refused to touch her, refused to hurt her.

Copyright @ 2018 Lea Bronsen

After his studies in London, Ragab has returned to the nomadic lifestyle of his Bedouin family and the majestic silence of the Sahara. His days are spent herding camels and dreaming of the perfect wife, until a beautiful but feisty bike driver stuck in a sand dune turns his quiet world upside down.

When the rat-race of life in a big U.S. city becomes too much, Stevie Jones decides to change track and live her wildest dream – compete against the tough guys in a thrilling motorcycle rally across Morocco. But to her surprise, the real excitement is to be found away from the race track, in the shifting sands of the desert…

* * *

Find out more about the book here

Thanks for stopping by, and be sure to check out all the fantastic writers sharing Mid-Week Tease Blog

 * * *

Disclaimer: I’ve borrowed this photo of ultra-sexy model Alex Uloom to illustrate the book excerpt.

Happy Sunday! Sexy Snippets are seven sentences taken from a work in progress or published book, brought to you every Sunday.

Today, I give you a sexy snippet from my erotic interracial romance A Thorned Rose in the Sand, which just finished at 22K. To place you in the context, Ragab and Stevie are coming back to camp after a dromedary ride.

* * *

Gathering what courage she had left, she slid a leg over the saddle, glided down Usain’s flank, and landed in Ragab’s arms, a little closer than she’d planned. They made full contact, chest-to-chest, stomach-to-stomach, and a distinct hardness pressed through his blue tunic.

He was aroused again! And this time, he couldn’t blame it on accidental ‘friction’. No, the tall man held her in place, sliding his large hands down her waist to the curved top of her hips in a sensual manner.

She formed a surprised, “Oh,” with her mouth.

He gazed down at her lips, soft breaths brushing her. She could kiss him if she wanted to. Yep, it was just a matter of wanting to.
 

     
 
After his studies in London, Ragab has returned to the nomadic lifestyle of his Bedouin family and the majestic silence of the Sahara. His days are spent herding camels and dreaming of the perfect wife, until a beautiful but feisty bike driver stuck in a sand dune turns his quiet world upside down.

When the rat-race of life in a big U.S. city becomes too much, Stevie Jones decides to change track and live her wildest dream – compete against the tough guys in a thrilling motorcycle rally across Morocco. But to her surprise, the real excitement is to be found away from the race track, in the shifting sands of the desert…

   
 
Disclaimer: I borrowed the photo of gorgeous model Alex Uloom to illustrate the snippet. 

Happy Wednesday, and thanks again to Angelica Dawson for organizing the MidWeekTeases!

This week’s tease comes from my current WIP, the erotic romance A Thorned Rose in the Sand. To place you in the context, Stevie and the nomad have arrived at the Bedouin camp after fetching water in the desert. 

* * *

The nomad spun and walked away. “Let’s go for that dromedary ride I promised you,” he threw over his shoulder.

“Um… Now? Can’t we eat first?”

He stopped in his tracks, raised a brow. “Eat?”

“Yes, as in have some food. You have food, right? I’m starving.” On cue, her stomach growled to stress the urgency.

He dug into a pocket hidden in his large tunic and brought out a small plastic bag. “Here, have some dried dates. They’ll keep you going till dinner.”

“And when will that be?”

“At sunset.”

“But…” She looked up at the sun, still so very high in the clear blue sky, and grimaced. She would never survive until then. Dammit, all she’d had today was a coffee and some pastry in Erfoud, after she brought the little boy to the hospital, but that was hours ago.

With a teasing smile, Ragab handed her a few dates. “You know, we pastoral nomads are often hungry, and we’re always thirsty. That’s how things are. We cope.”

He thought this was funny? She faked a huff. “Well, I’m a completely normal American girl used to regular and copious meals.” She accepted the dates and put one in her mouth. Mmm, the tasty fruit was thick with sugar and undoubtedly nutritive, but that didn’t mean she would survive until the evening. She pointed at him. “If I die of starvation, I have an army of bad-ass brothers willing to travel across the world to inflict the most terrible revenge.”

Ragab barked a laugh and spun on his heels again.

She couldn’t help smiling with him—and loving the sound of his voice, loving the way he looked at her, loving their humorous exchanges. And his playboy looks, by God!

But, be careful, girl.

Never forget the first motive of a man showing interest in a woman. Guys didn’t want a friendship. They wanted sex, hard and fast, day and night. And although the feel of Ragab’s stiff dick against her ass on the motorcycle had lit something hot and needy in her and she’d liked it—wanted more, even—she should never miscalculate a man’s intentions.

She spat out the stone, chewed on another date, and followed him to the backside of the low, rectangular tents, to an open space where camels, sheep, goats, and yapping dogs wandered freely and drank from basins.

They stopped at one of the camels, that rested on the ground with its long legs tucked underneath its body. The giraffe-like neck turned to them, and two bulbous black eyes beneath long, thick eyelashes studied her.

“Stevie, say hello to Usain,” Ragab said, petting the camel’s hairy neck. “Usain, this is Stevie, one very crazy specimen of the female species coming to see you all the way from America. I believe they have llamas over there, by the way. Your brothers.”

She held back a smile. “Crazy?” She gazed the big animal up and down. “I gotta be crazy to ride this thing, that’s for sure.”

Usain lifted its head in the air and let out a deep, rumbling, “Uuuurrr,” that sounded like an elephant’s trumpet.

Ragab smiled. “A lot of westerners call it a camel, but it’s actually a dromedary.” He grabbed a saddle from a carpet on the ground, placed it on top of Usain’s protruding hump, and tied it around the stomach. “It’s the smallest of the species and it has one hump. The others have two. Okay, climb up, lady.”

“Who, me?” She looked around.

He followed her look and frowned. “I don’t see anyone else here.”

“I’m not riding that thing.”

“Why not?”

“I just am not. No fucking way.”

He pursed his lips. “And I who thought you were the toughest girl on the planet. I’m disappointed. We’ll ride together, then.” In one swift move, he got up on the saddle, adjusted, and extended a hand.

Taking a deep breath, she accepted the help and climbed up behind him. The saddle was wider than a motorcycle seat, and made of wood and piled blankets. Not the most comfortable thing to sit on. And what when the big animal underneath moved?

Ragab leaned forward and grabbed a blue rope that hung from Usain’s head.

She froze. Oh, my God…

Sitting back, he gave an order and tugged on the leash. Usain straightened its front legs, tilting Stevie backward so her world tumbled and the sky filled her view, and all she could do was grasp Ragab’s tunic and hold on for dear life, too panicked to scream.

Then Usain extended its back legs, and she was propelled toward Ragab so her boobs flattened against his back. Not a good time to worry about that—Usain moved with a rolling, lilting gait, scaring the living shit out of her. Without hesitation or shame, she slid her arms around Ragab’s firm waist and locked them in front of his stomach.

He didn’t say anything, but put a warm hand over hers. An incredible comfort in her moment of need.

Trying to breathe normally, she rested one side of her face against his shoulder blade and closed her eyes, holding on to him as tightly as possible and following his slow, dance-like movements. His body was lean, not an ounce of fat, yet muscled in the right places. A real man. His tunic concealed too much, like his turban. Oh, and he smelled nice, a mix of faint sweat and manly musk. She focused on breathing in his scent to forget about her fear.

Copyright @ 2018 Lea Bronsen

After his studies in London, Ragab has returned to the nomadic lifestyle of his Bedouin family and the majestic silence of the Sahara. His days are spent herding camels and dreaming of the perfect wife, until a beautiful but annoyingly feisty bike driver stuck in a sand dune turns his quiet world upside down.

When the rat-race of life in a big U.S. city becomes too much, Stevie Jones decides to change track and live her wildest dream – compete against the tough guys in a thrilling motorcycle rally across Morocco. But to her surprise, the real excitement is to be found away from the race track, in the shifting sands of the desert…

* * *

Thanks for stopping by, and be sure to check out all the fantastic writers sharing Mid-Week Tease Blog

* * *

        
    
Disclaimer: I’ve borrowed the photo to illustrate the book excerpt.

Happy Wednesday, and thanks again to Angelica Dawson for organizing the MidWeekTeases!

This week’s tease comes from my current WIP, the erotic romance A Thorned Rose in the Sand. To place you in the context, Ragab and the fiery rally racer Stevie are driving home after fetching water in the desert. 

She called, “Ready?”

He risked a glance in her direction.

Wearing one of his sisters’ dresses and looking divine with her red curls floating behind her—and her face white and clean! she strolled to the motorcycle carrying a bag and her leather clothes. She stuffed everything on top of the fuel tank, got up, lifted the dress to her knees, and started the motor.

Not once looking at him.

Swallowing a deep breath, he spun and joined her, thanking the heavens his large tunic concealed the erection that tented his pants. He attached a strong rope to the handles of both ten-liter jerrycans and hung them across the motorcycle saddle. After just barely managing to climb up behind the girl without touching her, he sat on the hard-plastic rear seat, which was higher than her leather driver’s seat, and held on to it with both hands behind him. There was no place to put his feet, so they hung freely like the jerrycans. “Okay, I’m ready.”

She gave gas, the engine roaring like a lion and the motorcycle lurching forward.

Despite his efforts not to come near her, the high speed, the motor vibrations, the uneven terrain, the lack of leverage for his feet, and the height of the slippery seat combined made him glide toward her—toward her perfect butt. He kept pulling himself up and sitting back, but the rocks she drove over made the motorcycle jerk so he lost his hold. And each time he slid against her, his hard-on stuck itself in the crack of her ass. Desperate, he held the plastic seat for dear life and tried moving back again and again, but kept being projected back to her.

About a half hour later, when they finally arrived at the camp, he’d given up the impossible struggle and sat plastered against her, stomach-to-back, his thick erection lodged between her butt cheeks…and he’d never felt so embarrassed in his whole life.

As soon as she stopped near the first tent, he pulled backward with a groan of pain, climbed down, and busied himself lifting the jerrycans from the motorcycle.

She took off her helmet and spun toward him like a whirlwind, green eyes ablaze as if he’d committed murder. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, rubbing against me like that?”

Ugh, as if he wasn’t feeling bad enough! Face heating, he barked, “You know, between your crazy speed and the bumps in the track and the height of that stupid plastic seat, which all made me glide toward you against my will”—he pointed to the saddle—“and the understanding of how a man’s anatomy works when there’s…friction…” He paused, fuming, glaring at her. “It’s not my fucking fault, as you would so properly say, and I’m very sorry it happened. I would never do anything like this on purpose. I’m not that kind of man.” He pursed his lips and glowered. Would she go home now believing all Arab men were sexual predators?

She stared for a moment, studying him with a frown across her face.

“What?” he snapped. He’d explained, apologized. What more did she want from him?

He boiled inside. Normally, he was a posed and reflected man who didn’t blow up, but since the first time he saw this girl, she kept pushing his buttons and bringing out the worst in him. She made him explosive.

“Show me who you are,” she said, calm.

“What do you mean?”

“Take off that thing.” She nodded to the part of his turban that protected his mouth.

What was she up to? She looked serious, though, really wanted to see his face. “Why?”

“’Cause I’m sick of talking to a scarf, that’s why.”

Well, if somehow it could help convince he wasn’t a sexual offender… Sighing, he unwrapped the many layers of blue fabric from around his head until the sun stung his nose, lips, and chin.

She widened her gorgeous greens, and in them he read attraction. He knew it, he’d seen it many times in London.

Copyright @ 2018 Lea Bronsen

After his studies in London, Ragab has returned to the nomadic lifestyle of his Bedouin family and the majestic silence of the Sahara. His days are spent herding camels and dreaming of the perfect wife, until a beautiful but annoyingly feisty bike driver stuck in a sand dune turns his quiet world upside down.

When the rat-race of life in a big U.S. city becomes too much, Stevie Jones decides to change track and live her wildest dream – compete against the tough guys in a thrilling motorcycle rally across Morocco. But to her surprise, the real excitement is to be found away from the race track, in the shifting sands of the desert…

* * *

Thanks for stopping by, and be sure to check out all the fantastic writers sharing

Mid-Week Tease Blog

* * *

   
Disclaimer: I borrowed this photo of handsome model Alexander Uloom to illustrate the book excerpt.