Maggie Blackbird

Romancing Canada's Indigenous People

June is I :::Heart::: Erotic Romance month at my blog.  During these next thirty days, I’ll be featuring authors who write erotic romance, besides the usual blog posts.  Today, I have Sadira Stone in the interview chair.  We’re discussing her erotic romance Through the Red Door.  Be sure to check out the excerpt.


1. What drew you to writing erotic romance?

Sadira:  Every story I’ve ever written included steamy love scenes, even my first attempts at cozy mystery, a genre not friendly to steam! I guess it’s just in my nature to paint the full portrait of a couple falling in love, including their sizzling physical connection.

2. What do you like most about writing erotic romance?

Sadira:  When a couple are surprised by how mind-blowing their sexual connection is, that opens their eyes to other ways in which they might fit together–mind, heart, soul.

3. What do you like least about writing erotic romance?

Sadira:  Prudish reviewers who look down their noses at love stories that contain sex. I actually feel sorry for them!

4. Why did you write this book you are featuring?

Sadira:  I’ve always been fascinated by erotic art from other cultures and times. It’s so interesting to see what was considered sexy. We like to think of our modern selves as more enlightened and sexually free than our ancestors, but that’s not necessarily true!

5. Why do you think readers should invest their time in reading erotic romance.

Sadira:  Do you want the full vicarious experience of falling in love, one of the greatest highs there is? Then don’t shut the bedroom door!


Title: Through the Red Door
Series: Book Nirvana, Book Three
Author: Sadira Stone
Sub-Genre: Contemporary Seasoned Romance
Erotic Elements: N/A
Book Length: 376 pages
Release Date: November 14, 2018
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

Letting him inside could be her salvation…or her undoing.

Blurb:  Clara Martelli clings to Book Nirvana, the Oregon bookshop she and her late husband Jared built together. When rising rents and corporate competition threaten its survival, her best hope is their extensive erotica collection, locked behind a red door. In dreams and signs, her dead husband tells her it’s time to open that door and move on. When a dark and handsome stranger’s powerful magnetism jolts her back to life and he wants a look at the treasures of that secret room, she can’t help but want to show him more.

Professor Nick Papadopoulos is looking for historical erotica. Book Nirvana’s collection surpasses his wildest dreams, and so does its lovely owner. A widower, he understands Clara’s battle with guilt, but their searing chemistry is too strong to resist. Besides, he will only be in town for two weeks, not long enough for her to see beyond the scandal that haunts his past.

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Jared came to her again in a dream so vivid, she’d swear he was haunting her—if a haunting could be so pleasurable. He lifted the cool sheets and slid into bed beside her. The pale moonlight glimmering through the window reflected in his midnight-blue eyes. He pressed the length of his warm, muscular body against hers. He held her gaze as he ran his hand up her side, his fingertips tracing little whorls on her belly. He breathed her name, then buried his face in her hair, kissed her neck. She waited, afraid to move, almost afraid to breathe, lest she break the spell and end the dream. Even asleep, she knew this encounter was fleeting, insubstantial, and yet she opened her heart to him, so grateful to feel his touch again, to hear his voice, to taste his skin.

“Clara.” He sighed, shifting his weight over her. The box springs creaked as his body drove her deeper into the mattress. “My lovely girl.”

He’d called her that since their college days. She’d been with a few boys before Jared, but he was the first one who really loved her, who knew how to melt her reserve and open her up, body and soul, like a full- blown rose. She always felt beautiful in Jared’s arms.

And now his hand slid down to caress her inner thighs, tracing a silvery line of pleasure up one leg and down the other, barely brushing the soft, yielding flesh between, until she clutched the sheets and threw her head back in frustration and desire. Every cell in her body cried out for him.

In the moonlight, Jared’s smiling, teasing face hovered above hers. It was no misty, insubstantial vision. He was right there with her, as heavy and warm as in life. He leaned in to nibble her lower lip. “You want?”

In a voice hoarse with need, she groaned, “I want. Oh God, I want.”

His lips brushed slowly, teasing as they feathered down her throat, between her breasts, over her belly, down, down, down. When he finally reached her tingling clit, she was aching for him, arching her back to reach for his kiss. With exquisite slowness, he parted her slick folds with the tip of his tongue and licked her so slowly—once, twice—and then slid back upward, his warm skin against hers, the hard length of him filling her in one delicious rush. His hot mouth clamped onto her shoulder as he thrust hard and fast, rocking the headboard against the wall.

She grasped his warm, strong back and raised her legs to take him in deeper, her heels clasped against his muscular backside. He bucked against her, sending waves of electric pleasure up and down and in and everywhere, sparkling like stars beneath her skin until she cried out and clutched…

The pillow was all she held. Just the long body pillow Jared bought her the last Christmas before he died. Just some cloth and stuffing, damp and warm but not alive, not a man, not her Jared. As the pulsing between her legs subsided, she sobbed into the pillow, whispering his name again and again.


Ever since her first kiss, Sadira’s been spinning steamy tales in her head. After leaving her teaching career in Germany, she finally tried her hand at writing one. Now she’s a happy citizen of Romancelandia, penning contemporary romance and cozy mysteries from her home in Washington State. When not writing, which is seldom, she explores the Pacific Northwest with her charming husband, enjoys the local music scene, plays guitar badly, and gobbles all the books.

Find Sadira:  Web Site | Facebook Page | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram | BookBub | Amazon | Newsletter Sign-Up

One thought on “Sadira Stone – Through the Red Door

  1. fionamcgier says:

    Yes, lady, you DO know how to write a steamy scene! Woof!


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