Author Lisabet Sarai returns to my blog, this time with a new BDSM paranormal erotic short story with a Halloween theme. Lisabet writes a lot of paranormal romance, and she tells us why she believes the genre is so popular. Take it away, Lisabet!
Embracing the Darkness
What makes paranormal romance so popular? I've been pondering this
question for a while. Readers, it seems, are happy to consume as many tales
about vampires, shape shifters, ghosts and psychics as we authors can
produce. You'd think that they'd get bored, but that doesn't seem to happen.
Why not?
I've got a theory. We're all tempted by the dark side.
The realms of paranormal romance are vast, but most books offer characters
with dual natures, torn between normal humanity and―otherness. The “other”
aspect conveys special powers―unnatural strength, heightened sensation,
hidden knowledge―but always at a price. The characters suffer because of
their power. Blood-drinkers and half-beasts are ravaged by conscience because
they maim or kill. Immortals bear the weight of lonely, isolated centuries and
the pain of watching mortal companions wither and die. My prescient hero Kyle
in At the Margins of Madness can see the future but the fury of his visions
drives him insane. Jorge in Serpent's Kiss is the incarnation of an ancient god
but each time he makes love to his human mate he comes close to killing her.
Tony, the dominant ghost in Rendezvous, has a single night in which to search
for the connection he never found when he was alive.
In the paranormal genre, power and darkness go hand in hand. Yet somehow,
we are attracted to the darkness. We brush the suffering aside; we want to feel
the power. A vampire isn't sexy when he's fighting against his blood craving.
Only when he sweeps his victim into his arms and buries his fangs in her flesh
does he make us breathless and moist.
How many books have you read where the human hero or heroine willingly
submits to “the change”, the transformation that will make them “other” as
well? How many characters, in contrast, manage to resist the pull of the dark
side? Not many. Normal mortal life seems absurd, bland and empty after
you've tasted power. This is especially true because sex on the dark side in
erotic romance is always more intense, more extreme, transcending the limits
that bind ordinary humans.
Even a villain with supernatural powers tempts us. A well-written antagonist
should invite enough identification that the reader can understand what moves
him to do evil. The best bad guys are ambiguous, able to justify their deeds so
well that they draw our sympathy. They dazzle us with their logic and their
beauty, until we can't see their wickedness. Lucifer still looks like an angel as
he bargains for your soul.
We're drawn to the dark side, I think, because it's an escape. Sometimes the
real world leaves us feeling so powerless―we can't help wanting the ability to
take control, to bend the world to our will the way our paranormal characters
do. Who wouldn't want to leave the dirty dishes and the unpaid bills behind and
slip away into the night, to slink through the shadowy streets scenting for blood
or to howl, unfettered, at the moon?
The dark side calls to us in paranormal romance. Every time we open a new
book, we flirt with the possibility of ecstatic surrender.
Blurb - Rendezvous:
I am who I am, and I know what you want.
Rebecca believes in magic. She has never lost her childhood love of Halloween,
when she can don a costume and step away from her boring, ordinary self. For
one night, she transforms into someone else – someone mysterious, daring,
sensual and seductive.
When All Hallow’s Eve finds her stranded at a seedy motel a hundred miles
from her friend's annual party, she is desperately disappointed. Then she
discovers that her room is haunted by the invisible but unquestionably virile
ghost of a rake who seduced local women nearly half a century earlier.
Excerpt:
It was as though I'd been cursed.
First, my boss sent me on an out-of-state sales trip for the day. That effectively
nixed my plan to leave work early and help Christie get ready for her party.
Then, as I was rushing to get back to the city, the trusty Taurus blew a gasket
on an empty stretch of I-35 south of Emporia. The mechanic told me that the
problem wouldn't be fixed before noon the next day.
The next day? I couldn't believe my bad luck. I was stuck until November 1st in
some dinky town nearly a hundred miles from Kansas City. If the car had been
my own, I would have found a bus or a cab home and come back after
Halloween to pick it up. But of course it was the company's car, and I knew I'd
catch hell if I abandoned it in some no-name garage.
The motel was the last straw. Maybe I could have consoled myself in a nice
modern Holiday Inn or even a Super-8: taken a long hot shower, relaxed on the
king-sized bed, and wallowed in self-pity while eating take-out pizza and
sampling the mini-bar. The Rendezvous Ranch Motel, though, was the kind of
relic that you’d think only exists in horror movies. The fake pine panelling was
warped by damp. Staring at the wall, you felt that you were looking in a fun-
house mirror. The furniture was pure Ozzie and Harriet, right down to the twin
beds with their faux-colonial bedposts. The shower head dribbled even when
shut tight; streaks of red stained the bottom of the bathtub. Rust, of course, but
I couldn't suppress a little shiver at the gory appearance.
The grizzled desk clerk shook his head when I asked about restaurants, bars,
any kind of local entertainment. “Closest food is the diner in Cottonwood Falls,
eight miles back. But they don't deliver past six.” He looked alarmed when he
realized that I was on the verge of crying. “There's vending machines 'round
back, Miss.”
Seeing that this did not reassure me, he reached under the counter and
brought out an unopened half-pint of cheap scotch. “Here, you can have this.
Help you relax. And we've got satellite TV, too. Works most of the time.”
I managed to swallow my tears and take the bottle. “Thanks. What about
breakfast, though?”
“If you're awake by six tomorrow, I can run you into Emporia at the end of my
shift.”
“Thanks, I'd really appreciate that.” I paused at the screen door, surveying the
empty parking lot. “Expecting anyone else tonight?”
“Nope. Might get some late-night trucker, but they usually want a place with
better —amenities, I think you call 'em.”
“Yeah, that's right. Amenities.” I tried not to be sarcastic. The old guy was
working hard to be nice.
I strolled across the gravel on the way back to Room 7. It was crisp and breezy,
but warm for October. A golden crescent of moon hung near the horizon, across
the fields of stubble that stretched in all directions. If I strained my ears, I could
hear the distant hum of traffic on I-35. Otherwise, it was as quiet as the
proverbial grave.
An appropriate comparison for Halloween. I threw myself down on the chenille
spread, tears threatening again. Damn, damn, damn. Why tonight, of all
nights? I checked my watch; it was just seven. Christie would be in costume
already. She'd be lighting the candles, dumping the brandy into the witches'
brew punch, laying out the tarot cards in preparation for her guests' arrival. I
wanted to be there, more than I'd ever wanted anything.
Buy Links:
Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/1665-rendezvous/
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DJZ93M23
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DJZ93M23
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1632465
Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rendezvous-lisabet-
Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6736960598
Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/220378140-
Add on Bookbub - https://www.bookbub.com/books/rendezvous-by-lisabet-sarai
About Lisabet Sarai:
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading
when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem
at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles,
marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a
five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over
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
Twitter . Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh
Comments