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Eighteen-year-old Sarah falls in love with gorgeous Diogo while on vacation in Portugal. But their steamy romance is short-lived. Found in bed by her grandmother, she is sent back to the States straight away.

Seven years later, Sarah returns to Portugal, and she's not thrilled to discover her smoking-hot first lover Diogo is also back in town.

She can't seem to forgive him for not staying in touch all those years ago, but neither can she deny the heat of attraction between them now. Sex is just as exciting and fulfilling as she remembered, but to overcome her past pain, she must first learn the reason for his extended silence.


A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora's Cave


Loved, loved, loved it!

Review: Lusiatanian Stud (Tory Richards) ***** STARS 

This is the first book I've read by this author, and it won't be the last! I read Lusitanian Stud in one sitting, couldn't put it down. Well written, great plot that was paced just right, and smoking hot sex between the two main characters. More than that, the story tugs on your emotions. Every young woman who falls in love for the very first time, and endures a separation from the man she loves, will be able to relate to this story in some way.


Review: Ngo BookReview: "Lusitanian Stud"

Wow what a utterly amazing book. I blushed a little in certain parts. But I really enjoyed it such a lot.
What I liked about it there was erotic parts, the parts that made me blush, but it was not full on erotic it was very subtle. It had a amazing story line that I was totally hooked from page 1.
Hot storyline, heart beating so fast, pulse missing too many beats and a damn hot latin rugged and oh so demanding hero.
Lusitanian Stud is the first book I have read by the amazing Francesca St.Claire and I can honestly say that it totally and utterly won't be my last.
Francesca your books are going to be filling my R&R bookshelf.
Thank you so very much Francesca your book was simply the best.
So everyone you HAVE !!!! To buy this book.
I know even though it will make you blush a little you are going to love it so much.
It's a amazing book xx"



I couldn’t wait for warm nights, swimming pools, partying with friends, a break from school… Just an awesome summer! Instead, I was made to spend graycation in Portugal.
“How am I expected to survive the whole six weeks without a computer, cable TV or even a decent phone signal?” I argued time and time again with my mother the weeks leading up to my departure date, but she remained unmoved and unsympathetic to the end.
“You’ll find a way, I’m sure.”
As I suspected I began missing the States the moment my luggage hit the floor of her old bedroom in the family home in a small town in Portugal. This was not what I’d envisioned doing the summer I turned eighteen, so I sulked for three days.
Pissed, and bored out of my mind by the afternoon of my fourth day, I slipped through the side door into my grandmother ’ s rose garden and from there walked to the woods. Meandering along the path, I came to a high stone wall at the edge of the family estate. The sound of a horse running nearby pricked my curiosity, and the prospect of a diversion quickly propelled me into climbing the stone steps to the top of the wall.
I don’t know what I expected, but the sight of a most splendid chestnut horse and a shirtless rider wasn’t it. My mouth slacked open as I stared at the gorgeous rider’s tanned torso and at his strong thighs draped over a majestic stallion. Then his round ass, clad in white riding pants, clenched, and his lithe body leaned forward as they flew over an obstacle.
Lightheaded and aroused, I gasped. “Ooh!” The rider turned the horse around and approached the wall, and like in a movie he lifted his head in slow motion and looked straight at me with the darkest, most beautiful brown eyes I’d ever seen.
For a moment my world just stood still as I realized I’d fallen in love at first sight.
A sharp bark from a black Labrador retriever startled me. I jumped, lost my footing and tumbled down, landing in a bed of ferns. In a daze, I watched the rider head toward me, dismounting with impressive agility and speed as he raced to my side.
“Are you all right?”
Better than all right, I oozed awesomity. His British accent and the warmth and sexiness in his voice numbed me from any possible pain. I nodded.
“Nero, you ’ re a bad boy.” Not remotely bothered with his owner’s chiding, Nero responded wit h two short, powerful barks.
We both laughed—his a rich, throaty sound that sent a ripple of desire racing through me and mine a girly giggle that drew his attention to my mouth.
He was gorgeous. His lean, masculine face with well-defined jaw, beautiful deep-set dark-brown eyes and perfectly shaped lips made him the most handsome man I’d ever seen.
He cleared his throat and I blinked, trying to focus on his words. “We’ve not met. I’m Diogo Vilas-Boas.”
“Kowalski,” he added, surprising me.
Had I been less sheltered I would have realized when the daughter of an internationally acclaimed sportsman and a local celebrity came to town it made news.
“You know my name?”
He smiled, making my breath catch. Oh my God, he was so sexy.
“I do.”
The large hand he offered to help me get up closed around my much smaller one as he used his strength to pull me in close to his chest. At five feet nine I’m no midget, but the top of my head barely reached his chin and I had to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes. Strange, I thought Portuguese men were shorter.
“You’re tall.” And handsome . “Aren’t Mediterranean men usually a lot shorter than you?” I asked, letting my uncensored curiosity get the best of me.
“My father is English.”
“And tall.”
He smiled, showing perfect white teeth. “Yes.”
“And your mother?”
“Petite, dark headed with tanned good looks.”
“Just like you.” He arched a brow and I rushed to clarify. “The dark hair, I mean.”
His lips twitched. “But not the good looks,” he said with a smidgen of teasing I found irresistible.
“Are you fishing for compliments?”
“Absolutely!” His amused but piercing gaze did things to me I hadn’t experienced before, like a million butterfly wings fluttering in my chest.
I blushed as I rolled my eyes. “It figures.”
“Why is that?” he probed.
I shrugged, projecting an air of worldly knowledge I certainly didn’t have. “Men do that a lot.”
He should have been insulted by my sexist statement. Instead he studied me with what looked like warm amusement. “Oh yeah? Does this notion stem from your great knowledge of men?”
Caught! I blushed profusely but forced my gaze to meet his, afraid what I’d see but unwilling to wimp out. “Not exactly…”
His eyes darkened as he looked at me with hunger, and goose bumps formed on my inner thighs as my pussy clenched in reaction to his blatant desire. Time stretched, then stilled, and just when anticipation was at its highest his hand slid up to my shoulder and grasped my neck, sending my thoughts to the wind. Then he low ered his head and kissed me.
And the earth moved under my feet.

OCTOBER 2013.. 

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Francesca St. Claire