Saturday, November 16, 2013

As Promised, The Excerpt from Lisabet Sarai's Challenge To Him

Leave a comment on this post, with your email address, and you will be entered into a drawing to win a free e-book copy of Challenge to Him! 


All the wealth in the world can't buy willing surrender.

Andrew MacIntyre, heir to a vast empire of railroads, mines and mills, is the second or third richest man in America, and by far the most eligible bachelor among the society folk summering in Newport, Rhode Island. His mother has filled their opulent mansion with marriageable daughters of bankers and industrialists, but Andrew knows none of these callow young women can satisfy his perverse sexual needs. No respectable girl would ever consent to being bound and beaten, to serving and obeying him the way he craves. His money gives him the freedom to purchase anything except his heart's desire—a submissive partner to share his life.

Independent, progressive and well-educated, labour activist Olivia Alcott has dedicated herself to improving the lot of the workers who toil in the factories that have made Andrew and his class so wealthy. The strike she organizes triggers a confrontation between her and the handsome billionaire. Although their disparate backgrounds and values make them natural foes, something stronger draws them to one another—an intuitive recognition of complementary fantasies.

Andrew offers Olivia a bargain—better working conditions for the mill staff, in return for a weekend of her unquestioning obedience. Olivia will help him deflect the attentions of the potential mates assembled by his mother, as well as providing more intimate services. Given Olivia's origins, a more enduring relationship appears impossible—but Andrew is not the sort to give up something he wants.


Olivia, I have a proposition for you.” She did not resist when he led her to the automobile and installed her inside. As he breathed her lilac perfume mingled with her clean sweat, his erection grew more insistent. “There’s to be a ball this weekend at Wavecrest, my house in Newport. My mother has invited what she considers to be the cream of society, including every eligible—that is, single and wealthy—female she can think of. She’s determined to marry me off to one of these creatures, regardless of my wishes.” 

“What does that have to do with me?” Her frown of perplexity delighted him. He could practically see the wheels turning in her agile mind as she tried to understand his motives.  

“I need an escort, a woman to keep at my side all weekend so I can fend off the advances of all these would-be Mrs MacInytres. Come back to Newport with me. Spend the weekend. If you do, I’ll seriously consider the question of raising the workers’ salaries.”

Olivia laughed, a bright, clear sound that sent a stab of want to his groin. “Me, a poor professor’s daughter, at a society ball? I’d be as out of place as a Hottentot in the White House! I don’t have the airs and graces of a Rockefeller girl. And what would I wear?” She indicated her dusty brown frock. “I doubt very much this would be appropriate.” 

“No one need know who you are—we’ll invent some mysterious identity for you. You can be the illegitimate American child of a Hungarian prince, how’s that? As for clothing, I will supply everything you’ll need.” He gave her luscious body a frank once-over that brought the blush back to her face, to his immense satisfaction. “I suspect your measurements are quite comparable to my sister Ann’s. You could wear one of her dresses. But no, that won’t do—you must be the most resplendent creature at the ball. We’ll stop at Ann’s dressmaker on the way and have you fitted for a new gown. With adequate monetary incentives, I’m sure the dress can be ready by tomorrow evening. We’ll pick up a whole kit for you, tennis and boating outfits, morning attire, underclothes. With jewels to match each ensemble, of course…” 

“Mr MacIntyre, doesn’t the impropriety of what you’re suggesting bother you in the least?” 

Her critical tone brought him up short. What would people say about a single young woman, unchaperoned, in Andrew’s constant company? He’d hoped she was less conventional than the women of his regular circle, but, given the importance of reputation, he couldn’t blame her for her concern. 

“You’re essentially trying to buy my sympathies, aren’t you?” she continued. “You suppose that if you lavish enough money upon me, I’ll drop my support for the strike and encourage the workers to return to their looms, correct?”  

“Not at all…” 

“Well, it won’t work. I intend to spend every minute we are together reminding you of the plight of these poor women. I shall work upon your conscience, sir, until you have no choice but to do the right thing.” 

“What? Then—you agree? You’ll come to Newport?”  

“How could I pass up the opportunity to do so much good?” A smile played at the corners of her compressed lips and Andrew understood that she was teasing him. Yes, she was serious about her cause, but she wanted to join him for other reasons. Hope flared in his chest while desire hardened his loins. 

“Thank you, Olivia.” He clamped his hand down upon her smaller one. Her breath hitched with excitement she could not hide. He focused all the force of his will upon her, compelling her to meet his gaze. “There’s one more thing to which you must assent.” 

“Yes? What’s that?” She was brave, this woman. The girls on the lawn this morning would have wilted under that stare, but she held her own. 

“You must agree to follow my orders in every particular and without question. Otherwise, your charade may be unmasked and we’ll both suffer.” 

“In every particular? Even if you should command some indecency?” Her hand still lay beneath his. The pulse fluttered in her wrist like a captive bird.  

“In every particular, as I said, and without question.” Full of anxiety, he searched her lovely face. Would she change her mind? “I promise I won’t allow any harm to come to you, Miss Alcott.”  

She allowed the smile he’d seen her fighting to bloom. He released the breath he had not realised he’d been holding.

“I agree, Mr MacIntyre—Sir. Shall we be on our way?”


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 fifty single author titles, plus dozens of short stories in various erotic anthologies, including the Lambda winner Where the Girls Are and the IPPIE Best Erotic Book of 2011, Carnal Machines. Her gay scifi erotic romance Quarantine won a Rainbow Awards 2012 Honorable Mention.

Lisabet has more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her chosen genre. She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia with her indulgent husband and two exceptional felines, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her creative writing.

For more information about Lisabet and her writing, visit her website ( or her blog Beyond Romance ( You can also find her on Amazon ( and Goodreads( and at the group blog Oh Get a Grip ( Join her announcement and contests list at

Leave a comment on this post, with your email address, and you will be entered into a drawing to win a free e-book copy of Challenge to Him!


  1. Hi again, Leslie!

    I'm delighted to be able to share a bit from this book.

    Hope lots of people leave comments!

  2. Thanks so much for sharing. IT does sound a bit different to me and very enjoyable to read.

  3. Enjoyed the excerpt. Thanks for the giveaway.

  4. Sounds great. Thanks for giving me a chance to win.

  5. What a great excerpt. I cannot wait to read the rest of the story.

  6. Greetings, everyone!

    I've drawn a winner - congratulations, Jana! (J Bur)

    I'll be sending you your book shortly.

    Thanks to all for reading and for your comments.