Friday, June 6, 2014

#FridayFantasy: Sensuous Promos Presents a CONTEST and Book Tour for #ALCHEMY by Author Serena Fairfax #erotic #romance

Welcome to Friday Fantasy here at Sassy Vixen Publishing. This week we are part of another fun book tour with Sensuous Promotions. Siren author Serena Fairfax has a new interractial erotic contemporary romance titled Alchemy. Continue reading to find out more and make sure you enter the contest! ~The Vixen

Welcome to Sensuous Promo’s Alchemy Book Tour.



Set against sun-drenched Lake Garda, church mouse Tamsin Heriot, an English rose, pairs off with privileged Luca Leopoldo di Monte Valli, who’s half Italian, half Somali. But Luca isn’t what he seems… Orphaned at seven when his childhood in Mogadishu is brutally destroyed, Luca is left emotionally broken. Ragged and starving he seeks refuge in Italy where kindly aristocrats adopt him. 

Ever since she was fifteen, Tamsin has had a crush on Luca and the summer before she goes to university, she’s determined to lose her virginity to him.

It’s eight years before their paths reconverge. Tamsin, still lusting after Luca, receives devastating news that triggers her return to the dilapidated family casa, and fate steps in when an unexpected bond develops between her and Luca’s widowed, adoptive mother. But a strange inheritance alters what started as a dalliance. There’s no shortcut to love, and with everything to lose, the relationship between two wounded people, Luca and Tamsin, is pushed to the breaking point.

Excerpt PG rated

I am eighteen, going on nineteen and have never been fucked. Tamsin morosely hummed her thoughts to the tune of Liesl and Rolf’s duet in “The Sound of Music” as she gazed at her reflection in the lopsided, oval bedroom mirror that scorching August day. The interior walls of La Casa della Fontana sloped, the floors listed, so straightening the mirror, in the crooked little house of the nursery rhyme, was routine. This grandly named, spectacularly moldering house in a picturesque village on Lake Garda had been snapped up by her bohemian parents, Patrick and Eve Heriot, on the back of a legacy from a crusty uncle, and it was from here that, for the past twenty-five years, they ran year-round painting and creative writing courses.
Tamsin’s first year at university beckoned in six weeks’ time. Below bold brows, large, gold-flecked hazel eyes set in a plump, milk-fresh face stared back at her and she sucked in her cheeks. She peeled off her nightie (courtesy of a thrift shop, her wardrobe mainstay) and sighed. Her luscious boobs owed nothing to silicone implants but her tummy was majestically rounded and there was no avoiding it. She was a dumpling who couldn’t afford liposuction.
Her spirits boosted as she brushed her hair. Licorice-dark, thick and glossy, it tumbled to her shoulders in loose curls. He would surely throw her down and lose himself in it. And those deep dimples when she smiled, which she’d almost forgotten how to.
The three graces—her trio of close girlfriends, all lissome and nubile with antelope legs, all clones of the hottest models—had been fucked, or so they bragged. Fucked by their brothers’ buddies, fucked by their fathers’ buddies, fucked by studs in one-night stands. Fucked against library shelves groaning with texts on particle physics, fucked in the swimming pool, fucked knee-deep in mud at Glastonbury, fucked on the hallowed green grass of Glyndebourne to the shrill vocals of Brünhilde wrapping up the immolation scene. There was no doubt they’d fucked and she claimed likewise, although disbelief was palpable and vociferously voiced when, with narrowed eyes, they compared notes. Well, this summer she’d get fucked, by hook or by crook. Her summer of love. The summer Cinderella would go to the ball. She refused to go down in history as the only virgin fresher.
She had a plan. A plan that had simmered gently all night after she’d masturbated whilst poring over “Bonking For Tyros” and munched her way through two bags of prawn-flavored potato crisps. A plan she would implement at once.
A party of five couples was expected that evening on a week’s course. Patrick and Eve with Tamsin’s brother Gareth, six years older than her would, as usual, meet and greet them at the Milan airport, herd them onto a minivan and, after two hours, speed proportionate to vehicle’s decrepitude, puttering down the autostrada, decant them at the casa. Nine-year-old Ruby, Patrick and Eve’s last hurrah, was vacationing in style in Ibiza, with her best friend Isla, at the hip, minimalist beach house owned by Isla’s family.
It was ten a.m. and Tamsin heard a rumble of bickering voices as the Heriots left. The minivan was temperamental, so plenty of time was allowed for mishaps. Tamsin was delegated to stay behind to lay the well-scrubbed, rough-hewn communal refectory table, to ensure the pre-cooked meal was properly defrosted and heated up and the wine was chambray-ing. That was an affectation of Gareth’s, since the Heriots could afford, and served, what could only be politely categorized as easy drinking.
She glanced down at the plan, although she’d no need to as she’d memorized it by heart.
Change bed linen and sprinkle lavender water.
Flash the flesh.
Buy condoms and new knickers.
Rehearse Luca pretext.
Ah Luca! Ever since she was fifteen, she’d had a crush on him. Her head swarmed with fantasies of the scion of Il Principe Salvatore Leopoldo di Monte Valla and Principessa Catarina. He, godlike, was sole heir to the noble title and extensive agricultural land holdings, to the sumptuous Leopoldo palazzo in Milan where masterpieces in oils by Titian, Raphael, Caravaggio and El Greco hung in proximity to canvases by Impressionists, Cubists and Fauvists. Comprising one of the most fabulous private art collections in the world, it was on loan to the Italian government. And few dynastic families in Italy possessed the twenty-four carat pedigree of the Leopoldos, who counted among their ancestors the Chief Treasurer to the Emperor Barbarossa, a Pope, a composer, two saints and Renaissance Ambassadors.
Yes! Tamsin swiftly executed items one and two, painted her finger and toenails a shimmering Chinese red, slapped a flash of azure on her eyelids and whirled down to make breakfast. Contemplating the third homemade roll with lashings of salty butter and gooseberry jam coursing through her arteries, she hesitated.

About Serena

I spent my childhood in India, qualified as a Lawyer in England and joined a large London firm.

Romance is hardwired into my DNA so my novels include a strong romantic theme. However, I broke out of the romance bubble with one (you’ll see which one when you visit the Books page), which is a quirky departure in style and content.

I've also authored several short stories that feature on my blog

Fast forward to a sabbatical from the day job when I traded in bricks and mortar for a houseboat which, for a hardened land lubber like me, turned out to be a big adventure.

Apart from writing and reading (all kinds of books), a few of my favourite things are collecting old masks, singing (in the rain) and exploring off the beaten track.

I'm a member of the Romantic Novelists Association, which is a very supportive organisation. My golden retriever, Inspector Morse, who can't wait to unleash his own Facebook page, and I divide our time between London and rural Kent. (Charles Dickens said: Kent, sir. Everybody knows Kent. Apples, cherries, hops and women).

Connect with Serena 

Leave a comment below (with email address) and your name will be thrown into the hat to win an eCopy of this hot new release!

Winner will be chosen on June 16th