For most of my twenty year career as an erotica author (if you can indeed dignify my efforts with the term “career”!), I’ve tended more towards the literary side of the erotic spectrum. This is especially true in my short stories, but many of my novels also deserve the “literary” label – at least in contrast to what’s commonly known as “stroke fiction”.
Then a few years ago, something happened. Just for the hell of it, I started writing a story that was wall-to-wall sex, with no attempts at any sort of redeeming social value. I turned off my censor, my internal critic, and let my sexual imagination out to play.
The result was Hot Brides in Vegas, the first book of what would become the Vegas Babes series. I had fantastic fun creating this novella; I could indulge myself, mix up genders, stage outrageous scenes, do whatever my naughty muse urged. I was not writing for any particular audience, except myself and my colleague Larry Archer (who kindly let me set the book in a fictional world he’d created).
I didn’t intend to write a series. When I wrote “The End” on the first book, I thought I was done. However, almost immediately I started getting ideas for a sequel. Meanwhile, Hot Brides sold better than anything I’d ever written.
Right now I’m on the home stretch for the fifth Vegas Babes book, Babes in Bondage. I’m hoping to get it out by Halloween. I almost wrote “the last Vegas Babes book” above, because that’s my honest intention. But who knows!
Meanwhile for today, my “promo day”, I have an excerpt from the second book, More Brides in Vegas. I think this will give you the flavor of the series....
More Brides in Vegas by Lisabet Sarai
Tying the knot — with no strings attached!
Who can resist love at first sight? The minute Ted saw Annie shedding her clothes on stage at The Fox’s Den, he fell head over heels for the petite, busty redhead. She had to make the first move, though, dragging him into an impromptu orgy in the Den’s VIP suite, along with technically-virgin bride Francesca, secret slut Laura, and hot black mama Chantal.
Now Annie and Ted are getting married, and they’ve invited all their friends from that wild Amateur Night to the party. Taking over a vintage eighties motel with a courtyard and pool for their private function, the bride and groom expect a certain amount of carnal excess. Still, nobody’s prepared for the sexual free-for-all that breaks loose, involving not only the gals from the Den but also Annie’s rock star brother, Ted’s MILF mother, Chantal’s new slave girl, a lascivious hippie couple, a susceptible priest, the butch hotel manager, and an entire Scottish rugby team. As the wedding guests act out their secret fantasies, they push the limits of both lust and love. Finally arriving at the altar, after an exhausting, arousing twenty four hours, Annie and Ted realize that tying the knot doesn’t have to mean tying themselves down.
“I wannae see the hoatel manager. Where’s the fookin’ manager, you little eejit?”
A giant of a man with a barrel chest and legs like telephone poles strode into the courtyard from the direction of the hotel lobby, dragging a skinny college-age boy with him. The kid—Chantal remembered she’d seen him behind the hotel desk when she’d picked up her key—cringed and silently pointed in Nan’s direction.
“Gawn! D’ye think ahm buttoned up the back? That nekkid dyke?”
Cool as anything, as self-assured as if she’d been wearing a designer suit instead of a strap-on, Nan rose to her feet and confronted the newcomer. Though she was at least a foot shorter, the obviously angry man paused when confronted by her natural authority
“I’m Nan Anderson, general manager of the Holiday House,” she said. “I’ll thank you to let Michael go.”
He glared at her from under bushy ginger brows. Nan didn’t flinch in the slightest.
“Now, please. He’s just a part-time clerk. Whatever your difficulty, I’ll take care of it.”
He opened his ham-sized hand. Poor Michael almost crumpled to the floor.
“Get back to the desk, Mike. I’ll handle this.”
The young man scuttled away.
“Now, sir,” she continued, her voice cool and professional despite her nudity. “What’s the problem?”
“Thae gormless tool said yer fool for the weeken’.” The foreigner scowled and waved a sheet of paper in her face. “Me an’ me mates booked an’ paid. Ye dinnae think we’re gonnae come all thae way to America fer a ternamen’ but nae reserve our rooms, did ye?”
“Can I see that, please?” Nan scrutinized what was obviously a printout from some website. “I have to admit the dates match. But we’re closed for a private event this weekend. We blocked out the rooms more than three months ago. I don’t know why the booking site—”
“Ah dinnae ken an’ ah dinnae cerr. Me an’ me chaps need beds. Been on a fookin’ plane for ferteen hours.”
“Um—how many are in your group?”
The angry customer shook his head. “Aye, but yer stoopit, lass. Who doesnae know thae a rugby team’s fifteen men?”
“Rugby?” Nan looked him up and down, as if that explained his stature. “Oh!”
The guy broke into a grin. “Glassgow Gladiators. City champs.”
“And you are?”
He gave a little bow. “Ian Stuart, team captain. At yer service.”
“Aey, Ian! Whot’s goan on?” Two men built a lot like Ian, one with sandy hair, the other dark, strode into view.
“Tha lady says they dinnae have rooms for us.” The scorn in Ian’s voice made Chantal wince.
“Now, now, Mr. Stuart. I didn’t say that at all.” Nan smiled at the three athletes. “The hotel’s booked for a wedding, but in fact most of the guests won’t arrive until tomorrow. I can let you stay tonight; then I’ll help you find accommodation at some other property for tomorrow. Would that work for you?”
The captain’s face brightened. “Aye, lass. At least we dinnae have to sleep in the van.”
“Also, I’ll arrange for you to be reimbursed for the second and subsequent nights, since I assume the Internet reservations aren’t refundable,” she continued.
Ian broke into a huge grin. “Thae’s a total belter!” Much to Chantal’s amazement, he gave Nan a hearty slap on the back. “Thank ye. I’ll be goan to get the lads.”
“Meanwhile, I’ll go explain the situation to Michael.” Nan grabbed a beach towel to cover herself up. Chantal figured she was probably trying to spare the poor college kid. The manager didn’t leave, though. Probably she was still concerned about the new arrivals.
The burly guy looked around the courtyard, as if seeing his environment for the first time. Fran and Miranda had retired to their rooms, but Nina and Linda still sprawled on the cushions, eating each other’s snatches, while Amy watched with both hands buried in her pussy. Across the pool, on one of the patios, Annie straddled Jake’s lap, riding his cock for all she was worth. Then of course there was Chantal herself, like some naked African queen, her tits displayed proudly, her legs streaked with pussy juice. Zoe had tiptoed over to kneel at her feet while Nan had been dealing with the visitors. Chantal stroked the girl’s platinum locks, feeling a new tenderness for her lovely slave.
“A waddin, ye say?” He flashed Nan a wicked grin. “More like an orgy, if ye ask me.”
“Ye daftie,” said the blond rugby player. “Ye hannae heard about stag parties?”
“Yeah, Ned, but isnae for the bloke and his mates? Here thae’s mostly burds.”
“This is a pre-wedding party.” Chantal spoke up for the first time. “For the bride and the groom, plus their close friends.”
“Aye, right. Ah cain see how close!” Ian shot her a leer. With an exaggerated swagger, he adjusted his package. “Any chance of us lads getting a wee swally and a bit of hoch-magandy?”
“What?” Chantal asked, mystified.
Ian took a step in her direction. “Nookie, hen. Shaggin. A wee poke.”
“There’s plenty of beer over by the bar.” Nan gestured in that direction. “As for sex, well, you’ll have to ask the individuals involved.”
“I’m not interested,” Chantal said, rising to her feet. “Come on, Zoe. I want some private time with you.”
“Mistress! Guess yer the Heed-the-baw, then,” Ian commented.
“No,” Nan corrected him. “That would be me. But I’m not interested either, at least not at the moment.”
“Thaes a true shame, lassie,” said Ian. “Aey’d sure like ye to grease my pole.”
“You might want to check out those two lit-up rooms on the ground floor,” the manager continued. “I gather there’s some action going on in there. Maybe you can join in.”
As if to confirm her statement, a naked male figure stumbled out of the right hand room and collapsed into a deck chair. The man mopped his brow with the back of his hand and sighed.
“Are you all right, Ted?” called Chantal, waving.
He looked up and grinned. “I’m all fucked out,” he called back. “But I’m having fun. I never expected this from someone like Laura.”
Chantal smiled to herself. She’d always know there was a hot mama under Laura’s East Coast reserve.
“Rod’s doing her now. Steve’s in her mouth. But I don’t know how long they can hold out. That woman’s insatiable!”
Nan gave Ian a meaningful look. “Looks like you and your lads showed up just in time!”
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DYPQ57T
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07DYPQ57T
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/844220
Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/more-brides-in-vegas-lisabet-sarai/1128957058?ean=2940155308614
Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40615243-more-brides-in-vegas