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Shameless Selfie in Sleepy-Town

Yup! That’s me all right. Nope! I’m not actually sleeping, and I’m certainly not dreaming. I’m faking it because if I’d IMG_6186been doing either, I wouldn’t have been able to take a selfie. Having said that I did dream just before I woke up that I’d somehow managed to delete everything from my iPhone and from my computer and no one could help me get it back. Not the kind of dream a succubus would send me, no doubt, but certainly one I was relieved to wake up from.

And speaking of succubae, this Shameless Selfie comes from book 2 of the Lakeland Witches novels, Riding the Ether. For those of you who love Anderson, and who doesn’t, this is his story, and it’s too hot to handle. Enjoy!

 

WARNING Succubus dreams rated XXX

 

Book two of the Lakeland Witches trilogy (Click here for: Book One | Book Three)

Cassandra Larkin keeps her ravenous and dangerous sexual appetite secret until she seduces Anderson in the mysterious void of the Ether.  Anderson is the sexy, insatiable ghost who can give her exactly what she needs.

But sex is dangerous in a place like the Ether…

When the treacherous demon, Deacon, discovers the truth about the origin of Cassandra’s powerful lust, he plots to use her sex magic for revenge on Tara Stone and the Elemental Coven, who practice their own brand of sex magic.

Cassandra must embrace the lust and sexuality she fears and learn to use its power. Will she stand with Anderson, Tara, and the Elemental Coven against Deacon’s wrath or suffer the loss of friendship, magic and love?

 

Lakeland Witches 2 RTERiding the Ether Excerpt:

Chapter 1

‘There will come a time, my dear Tara, when you must let him use his gift.’ Anderson nodded to Tim Meriwether, who sat naked meditating on the edge of the dream bed in the cave. ‘You have said it yourself that he is ready. He has progressed even more quickly than we had hoped once he made peace with the difficult circumstances in which he finds himself. In which we all find ourselves.’ He lifted his high priestess’s chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. ‘And it is possible that I may not always be here.’

She pulled away and continued to loosen the plait of her hair. ‘You’re my high priest. What, are you planning early retirement, maybe a holiday away from all this fun?’ As was common when he broached the subject of permitting Tim Meriwether to perform the task that fell to their masculine sex, in the coven’s dream magic, she made no pretense of hiding her irritation. In truth he knew her irritation was focused inward. Irritation was the most effective disguise Tara Stone could manage for her fear of becoming too attached to the living. In fairness Tara had done all in her power to see to the proper training of Tim Meriwether and Marie Warren, since they had been added to the coven. And they were quickly becoming formidable witches because of said training.

But on this one subject, she would not be moved. Tara Stone would not have intercourse with the living. She allowed herself sexual congress only with ghosts. And though Anderson, being himself a ghost, benefitted greatly from what Tim Meriwether referred to as Tara’s sexual neurosis, he worried about her still, worried about her as he had the entire 150 years they had been together. The burden she bore would have broken anyone else long ago, and yet she shouldered it. His heart ached for her at the thought. He brushed a dark lock of her lush hair away from her cheek.

‘I have heard that Tahiti is lovely this time of year, and I think I should quite enjoy a bit of warmth after the long Cumbrian winter.’

She gave him a look that told him she neither believed him nor was she impressed. ‘You’re a ghost.’

‘A ghost who is at this moment fully in the flesh, and I assure you, my darling, my flesh does not appreciate the cold any more than does yours.’

She forced a smile. ‘And yet your flesh is doing a lot more complaining about it than mine is.’

‘My dear Tara, you have once again successfully directed our conversation away from the topic I endeavored to broach.’

She shook her head slightly, and the last of the plait collapsed into a soft torrent of deep auburn which reminded him of the peaty waters in the fast moving streams on the fells. ‘Clearly not as successfully as I’d hoped,’ she said, ‘or you wouldn’t be bringing it up again.’ She took him by the hand and led him toward the dream bed. ‘Now, do you think we could focus on the magic we’re here for instead of my choice of sex partners?’

He thought it wise not to remind her that the magic had been precisely the topic of their conversation, aware as he was that in her heart she knew that fact even if she could not bear to admit it. And in truth, his timing had been poor. But Tim Meriwether was truly gifted in dream magic, while Anderson had come to practice it only by default being, before Tim Meriwether’s arrival, the only member of the coven equipped with a penis. Anderson was more at home in the Ether. He was trained in ethereal magic and, in truth, it had been many long years since he’d had need of what was now referred to as REM sleep, that sleep in which dreams occurred, that sleep which kept the living sane and healthy. Not for the first time he wondered if it might be more expedient simply to allow him to journey into the Ether and seek out with more direct methods the information they desired. But Tara had forbidden it as too dangerous at the moment. And in spite of the unease he felt, he would do his high priestess’s bidding.

He brought his attention back to the circle that had been cast earlier, and let the full weight of the magic rest against Lakeland Witches 3 EFthe flesh he wore as comfortably as the living wore theirs. He immediately felt his manhood stiffen and tense with the growing urgency of the rising magic. He became aware that Marie and Tim Meriwether were now entwined around each other, naked and sheened in perspiration in spite of the winter outside the cave. Through their act of pleasure, their task was to prepare the way for the magic that was to be worked. Sitting next to them with their arms around each other in a caress of their own were Sky and Fiori, theirs the responsibility of witnessing all that was to happen.

Anderson watched as Tim Meriwether positioned himself between Marie’s pale thighs. She moaned softly and lifted her legs to his hips. Tim’s buttocks clenched with his first thrust, obscuring, for a brief moment, the lovely back hole with which Anderson had grown quite familiar in the passing of the eight months since they had fought the demon together.

Could it have been such a short time since Deacon had been bound in the flesh, in the strange lifeless limbo in which Marie and Tim Meriwether had trapped him? Anderson’s stomach clenched as he thought of how very close he had come to losing the two he had so grown to love.

He knew them both intimately, and memories of making love with them served only to tighten the growing weight of desire in his own loins, as he knew it did with Tara and Sky and Fiori, as it was intended to do. It was the foundation set in motion, the drive to rut, the ancient need that brought humanity to the very edge of ecstasy while at the same time driving it to the brink of its own destruction. And in between ecstasy and destruction, the next generation was birthed into existence. And there, on that knife edge in between, the magic happened as it could happen nowhere else. Again and again Anderson had experienced it, always new, always wild, always almost beyond his control.

With the weight of the magic pressing in on him along with the desperate need it created, he shrugged off his robe and eased aside Tara’s, than drew her down onto the bed of cushions, kissing each of her heavy nipples before beginning his descent to the Gateway. He nibbled at the base of her sternum where her ribs yielded to the rise and fall of her belly, which tightened with the touch of his lips and teeth. The caress of his tongue forged the path to her navel, sinking in, darting, probing in sympathy with what his penis would soon do. He traced the soft goose fleshed skin down to the pillowed curls of her pubis, down to the very bud of her pleasure. In his mind’s eye he could see clearly the Gateway as he reverenced it with a kiss to the keystone. He worshiped at its entrance with long lavings of his tongue, preparing the way.

Tara curled her fingers in his hair and spoke words, ancient words, words that could be understood in no other context than that in which they now found themselves; words that would never be uttered in any other space but the space they now created in their intimate act.

And when he was certain the Gateway was fully open, fully inviting, he rose on his knees and positioned himself, LakelandWitches1BTRone hand on his member, the athame in flesh, the other bracing himself. Then he entered the Gateway with a shifting of his hips and a sigh of pleasure laced with fear of the unknown, fear of the Dream World, which was always unpredictable, never completely safe in its revelations.

From a long distance, he heard Tara moan, heard the rush of her breath, felt her legs tighten around his hips, but he was already through the Gateway, speeding forward with each thrust deeper and deeper into the dream. It was familiar territory, a journey he had made with Tara many times before. He found himself poised there on the threshold of the unconscious waiting to be drawn under, waiting to uncover secrets. He felt a slight tightening in his chest, an acceleration of his heart, and the scraping of flesh against stone, solid and bruising. His pulse accelerated further. The hair on the back of his neck rose. Someone called his name from a long way off, but it was not Tara. His last thought before he was catapulted from the flesh with a force violent enough to take his breath away, if there had been breath left, was that he was no longer in the Dream World.

 

He was unsure if he had lost consciousness, but Anderson knew immediately, when he had gathered himself enough for the knowing, that he was in the Ether, though how he got there he could not tell. Immediately he cast the counting spell his mother had taught him when, at last, she agreed that even though he was no daughter, he had wit enough and was gifted enough in the Old Ways to walk safely in the Void. He had already crafted his own counting spell, for until she had relented, he had visited the Ether in secret without her permission. More efficient than his, her spell allowed him to set a small clock in the back of his mind, a clock that kept track of time in the World of Flesh, the only way to mark the passing of time in the Ether. If the counting spell were not cast, one could very easily die. While starvation set in, and the comatose body withered away in the World of Flesh, no time passed at all in the Ether. Time was simply not a concept in the Void.

And though he did not remember casting the special enfleshment spell, the one he always cast for himself in the Ether, he was fully in the flesh, albeit flesh that only had substance in the Ether. He was completely naked, and fully, nay, outrageously aroused. The pressure in his groin was both agonizing and exquisite. He reached for his manhood, knowing full well he was in need of wit that he did not possess when his lust was so great. But before he could stroke himself to release, a voice spoke out from the Void. ‘That belongs to me.’

He was not startled that the woman appeared out of nowhere. After all this was the Ether, but he was very startled, if most pleasantly so, that she was as naked as he, and it was no hardship for him to look upon her. Before he could utter even a cry of surprise, she knelt next to him, slapped his hand away and took his member into her mouth.

‘My dear woman,’ he gasped as her tongue snaked up the underside of his manhood. ‘I do not believe we know each other.’

She stopped pleasuring only long enough to reply. ‘We will very soon.’ Then she returned her efforts to his great xcite1DEMON INTERRUPTEDeditneed.

‘I fear this shall end quickly if you do not stop what you are doing.’ He tried, though only half-heartedly, to push her away. After all what manner of man saw to his own release before the pleasure of his lover?

‘I know you.’ As she spoke, she continued to stimulate him with her hand. ‘It may be over quickly this time, but then,’ she lifted her head enough to brush a quick kiss against his lips, enough for him to catch the tiniest glimpse of dark cinnamon eyes. ‘When it’s over we’ll begin again, and then,’ she gave him a squeeze. ‘Then I’m sure I’ll be well compensated.’

She spoke no more, but took the length of him deep into her throat and tightened her grip until there was nothing for it. He shuddered the weightiness of his release into her throat, and she drank it back like fine brandy. And when she had drained him as surely as if he had been the glass containing her drink of choice, she slipped up next to him, her tight roseate nipples brushing against his ribs. And when she kissed him, he tasted himself on her lovely tongue. This time she kissed him with all of her mouth, nay, with all of her body if that were possible, and he felt lust already returning to his loins.

When she pulled away, he spoke in one breathless sentence, fearful that if he did not find his voice immediately, the lady’s own greed for the pleasures of the flesh might make him forget that he even possessed the power of speech, might make him forget why his voice would even be of importance. ‘My dear woman, might I at least enquire who it is that pleasures me so well and in such unusual circumstances?’

Once again she held him with the deepest, darkest eyes he had ever seen on a woman so pale of complexion. ‘I’m Cassandra, Cassandra Larkin, and I’ve been waiting for you.’

‘Then it is clear you have most definitely found me, Cassandra Larkin.’

Though it was usually fear and uncertainty that drove those who rode the Ether to complete the task for which they had come and return to the World of Flesh as quickly as possible, those who were more adept at journeying in the Ether knew that passions and desires were always more difficult to control in that vast space. Therefore it came as no surprise that his desire should return with such intensity.

Though in truth, he had never taken his pleasure in the Ether before, and he was certain other practitioners of ethereal magic would not approve. But at that particular moment on his internal spell-induced clock, he could think of nothing in the Ether he would rather be doing than sharing pleasure with Cassandra Larkin. Though he was much more in control of his manhood after she had so deliciously emptied him, he would most definitely be the first to agree with modern theories on human sexuality, stating that the brain is the seat of desire. And this slender woman pale of flesh and hair, dark of eyes was truly intoxicating. He wondered if her appearance in the Ether was as her appearance in the World of Flesh. Some, he knew, chose to appear differently when riding the Ether.

He felt her hips shifting and rocking with her unsatisfied need, and as he lifted himself onto one elbow rising above her, for the first time he became aware of the bed on which they lay. It was devoid of colour, like the emptiness in which they found themselves, but it was a bed nonetheless. Anderson could not but admire the woman’s attention to function, much more important in ethereal magic than form. And at this moment, hers was the only form in which he was interested, though he wondered why that should be when there was important coven magic in which he ought to be participating.

She guided his hand to the soft warmth between her legs, and he eased a middle finger into the slippery wetness of her ardor. His thumb caressed the heavy node of her pleasure and she trembled like a leaf on water, honeyed eyelashes fluttering over dark eyes. She opened herself to him, shifting her buttocks until he could see the heavy folds and hillocks of her womanhood pouting open before him, until he could smell the heat of her rising up from below her belly at the seat of her desire.

She lifted her arms around his neck. ‘Anderson,’ she pressed his name up through her chest and past her lips with labored breath. ‘Anderson, it’s all right for me to have you here in this place, and I need you. Please. I need you.’

His own need grew with the feel of her beneath him, and he did not deny her the release she so needed. He cupped her buttocks, felt them tighten in his grip, felt the strain of her anticipation as he positioned himself, the head of his member pressed tight against her womanhood. ‘Please,’ she whispered again.

He pushed into her until the sigh of her breath was a sob, then she wrapped herself around him and pulled up to meet him, pressing her mouth to his, whispering against his lips. ‘Ride it with me, Anderson. I need you to ride it with me.’

The power of first contact drove fire up his spine and up into his head until the very fabric of the ether sparked with it. Then as he thrust, it was as though she had inhaled all of him into herself, right up through the very core of her womanhood all the way to the beating of her heart. And then she gave it all back to him again, each time driving the fire up into him hotter and brighter than the time before. His bliss was such that he wondered if it were her intention to burn him until he was but ash to be blown away into the nothingness of the Ether. But he was too far gone for his possible destruction by fire to matter, and when she began to shudder and tremble with her release, driving her heels into his kidneys, digging her nails into his back, he allowed himself to tumble into the abyss with her. The bed she had created quite literally vanished and they were falling, endlessly falling into the heat of their release.

For a time, they floated in nothingness, wrapped around each other. The clock in his head warned him he had been gone too long, that there were important responsibilities he must return to, but still he clung to her.

‘Are you all right?’ She whispered against his ear.

He chuckled softly at such a question. ‘As ecstatic as the experience of sharing pleasure with you is, my dear Cassandra, it was only le petite morte and surely you are aware that I am already dead, and therefore undamaged by even the power of your great ardor.’

To his surprise, she wept, only a little, but he appreciated the ways of women. Their ease with their own emotions was a thing much to be envied. And she did indeed weep, and hold him even closer to her, if that were possible. ‘Only le petite morte,’ she sighed. ‘Of course.’ She moved a hand down to rest against his heart. ‘I have to go now, Anderson, and so do you.’ She kissed him, and in that startling moment colours flashed before his eyes, steamy sunsets, nights dense with stars, an older woman with a cascade of white hair falling over a black robe, ghosts, memories, wild places. And the sharp crack of a bullwhip and fire that was cold and unnatural, and yet familiar in a way that chilled him even in his ethereal body. Then, as inexplicably as he had come to be with Cassandra Larkin in the Ether, he fell away from her into darkness.

When the darkness broke over him, he awoke on the dream bed looking up into the concerned faces of the rest of the coven.

 

RTE_teaser

 

Reviews for Riding the Ether:

“Overall, this was another very enjoyable book from K D Grace. It’s an action-packed, erotic paranormal tale with lots of sex of every flavour; straight, gay, lesbian, ménage… the list goes on. So if you love yourself some seriously hot supernatural action, then you should definitely check out Riding the Ether.” Erotica For All

“…another breathless read from the library of K D Grace, she has a magnetic way of drawing us into her books and not being able to put it down till the last page… it’s a thrilling suspense and if you love paranormal erotica this trilogy is for you…” Midnight Boudoir

“This is one book where you have to expect a whole lot of sex or you’re going to be overwhelmed by it. Guys, the sex is epic. Dare I say… it’s an orgy of delight. No lie. There’s sex and then there’s sex with a sex coven. This book is the latter.” Reading the Paranormal

“…the book fairly scorches your fingertips while the story has you dying to know who prevails in the battle to outwit the demon. With suspense enough to bring you to the edge of your seat, and a solid mystery and evident teamwork from members in the coven this book will keep you turning pages to the end.” 5 out of 5, The Jeep Diva

 

Final Draft Tunnel-Vision

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After a week of being totally tunnel-visioned, I’m stepping away from putting the final touches on the final draft of a novel long enough to whip together a quick blog post with one hand while I shovel food into my mouth with the other. I can’t focus well enough to pull something out of the archives to be shared again, so the best I can hope for is some ramblings that may or may not be too navel-gazey and hopefully will be coherent enough that it won’t leave you lot scratching your heads.

 

The thing about a novel as opposed to a short story is that I’ve invested a lot of life into it. In this particular novel, I’ve invested more than usual, and it feels very close to my heart. What that means is I’ve lived a long time with my characters, with the love and the conflict and the problems and the pleasures of the world they live in. They’ve revealed their secrets to me, and I’m at home with them. I’ve watched them run around the kitchen in their underwear and seen them toss and turn in their sleep. I’ve even peeked inside their heads and seen their dreams. I know what they love and what they hate. I know what pushes their buttons. I know their fears and their hopes. I’m comfortable with them, but I’m not so comfortable with the fact that I’ll have to leave them very soon. That’s the purpose of a final draft, after all. It’s the end that makes room for new beginnings.

 

It’s been hard work. The final draft is always intense and focused at the expense of almost everything else – including regular meals. When it comes time for that final rewrite, I’m gone. I’m seldom on social media, I barely manage my emails, and I disconnect from the outside world as much as possible. That’s especially true when a final draft coincides with my husband being away on business, as it does this time. A final draft is a part of the writing experience like no other. It’s not the runaway train excitement, watching the story unfold of the first draft. It’s a journey deeper into the caves and crevasse of the plot and into the dark inner workings of the characters and the story. It’s the deepening, the broadening, the true KNOWING of the novel and the characters that I wrote at break-neck pace in their first draft Writing pen and birds 1_xl_20156020incarnation. The final draft is total obsession, and when it’s done, that means there’s serious withdrawal. While I’m anticipating the finished draft, I’m also dreading it. There’s always a period of bereavement that follows, and the empty nest that must be dealt with before it can be made ready to refill with a new beginning. But the letting go is hard.

 

In the meantime, I’m tired and I’m strung out, and I’m too much in the world I’ve created to be of much use to anyone outside it. Dinner’s finished. Drinks are refilled, and I’m back at it! I’ll see you with a new Shameless Selfie on Sunday.

 

The Pet Shop Nominated for Summer Indie Book Awards Best Erotic Novel!

 

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Once again Tino and Stella have made me very proud! The Pet Shop has been nominated for the Summer Indie Book Awards Best Erotic Novel, and I’m doing a happy dance!

The voting begins 1st September, and the competition is stiff, if you’ll excuse the pun, with Brit Babes’ own Kay Jaybee and  Tabitha Rayne on the list as well. I couldn’t be happier to be in such talented company!

Follow the links to find out more details! I’ll be giving more info as time draws nearer. In the meantime, for your reading pleasure, here’s a naughty little excerpt from The Pet Shop. Enjoy breakfast with Tino.

 

Warning! Adult Content and sloppy eating habits!

 

 

ThePetShop

The Pet Shop Blurb:

In appreciation for a job well done, STELLA JAMES’s boss sends her a Pet for the weekend – a human Pet. The mischievous TINO comes straight from THE PET SHOP complete with a collar, a leash, and an erection. Stella soon discovers that the pleasure of keeping Pets, especially this one, is extremely addicting.

Obsessed with Tino and with the reclusive philanthropist, VINCENT EVANSTON, who looks like Tino, but couldn’t be more different, Stella is drawn into the secret world of The Pet Shop. As her animal lust awakens, Stella must walk the thin line that separates the business of pleasure from the more dangerous business of the heart or suffer the consequences.

 

 

 

 

The Pet Shop Excerpt:

 

Pets don’t like to eat alone. They prefer to sit on the floor by the table next to their keeper’s chair, where they enjoy being hand-fed. If this is not possible, place food in a bowl next to the water dish. Make sure meat is always cut into bite-sized chunks.

Note: The former is preferable, as most Pets and Pet keepers find sharing a meal in this fashion very enjoyable and a part of their bonding experience.

The manual was right. Once she got the hang of offering Tino choice morsels in her open hand, the laving of his velvety wet tongue, the slight nipping of teeth and curling of lips was lovely. He sat on his haunches, once again fully erect, resting his head on her naked thigh in between bites. If she hadn‟t been ravenous, she would have never been able to concentrate on eating. He was as happy to nibble the mushrooms and tomatoes as he was the bacon and eggs. The toast with honey forced him to lick the sweet stickiness off the tips of her fingers, even occasionally off her thigh when her efforts were clumsy with the excitement of having such an exquisite creature eating from her hand.

She‟d had a similar sense of excitement the first time a horse had taken a sugar lump from her hand. That something so powerful, something potentially wild and dangerous had allowed itself to be fed by her was an exhilarating experience. At present, the magnificent beast on the floor insinuated himself a little closer to her with each bite, and she was pretty sure this wild animal had more than food in mind.

Tino scooted and wriggled himself until, at last, he sat between her legs, his humid breath warming her mons.

30

With each morsel of food, he insinuated his waiting face a little closer to her pussy until her open palm with its offered nominee newesttidbit was practically resting against her pubis. When a particularly sticky morsel of toast ended up on the chair between her legs, he carefully licked up every bit from the chair, and then he continued lapping his way right on up between her legs.

She caught her breath with a little whimper and a jerk. The bite of toast she was about to offer slipped from her hand onto her belly. Tino wasn‟t bothered. He simply squeezed in between the table and her body, forcing her chair back just enough that he could nibble and lick the toast and honey from her tightening abdominal muscles. That done, he picked up where he‟d left off, nibbling and licking between her pouting labia.

Fascinated and aroused by his eating habits, she grabbed a handful of egg and wiped it across her breasts and down her stomach, licking the remains from her fingers, feeling a bit animal herself. He raised his head again and worked his way up her belly nibbling scrambled eggs as he went, pushing her chair back farther and farther from the table.

She gave up on any semblance of proper table etiquette and slid onto the floor next to him. She grabbed the plate from the table on her way down, shoving a handful of egg into her own mouth before smearing more egg and a bit of tomato across her breasts and belly. Lying back she let Tino nibble and lap his breakfast off her body until she was writhing and grinding on the floor beneath his enthusiastic tongue.

He surprised her by taking a rasher of bacon from the plate and offering it to her, mouth to mouth. It was almost like a porn version of Lady and the Tramp as they gnawed and nibbled their way to each other‟s

31

mouth, tongues lapping and lips smacking the salty savoury taste of the meat.

She plucked a nice plump mushroom from the plate. It reminded her of the tip of a cock as she eased it between her slippery folds far enough that Tino had to work to get it out.

But Tino didn’t mind working for his breakfast. And by the time he had extricated the mushroom, she was completely convinced his tongue was prehensile. His face glistening with her juices, the mushroom pressed daintily between his lips, he slid up her sticky body and offered her the morsel with its unique sauce of their lovemaking. Together they gulped down the tangy fungus between gasps for breath, breath which seemed to be harder and harder to get as their meal continued.

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“I loved The Pet Shop. It was so well done that I could hardly wait to turn each page. Of course the sex was delicious, but the background story, the premise of The Pet Shop, and the magic between the various characters was much more than just delicious sex. Great job bringing me something completely different to read.” 5 out of 5 Manic Readers

*****

“The sex is smoking hot, the storyline intriguing, and the whole thing is so brilliantly written that you’ll emerge from the end gasping for breath. This book is a whirlwind of fun and naughtiness perfect for erotica fans.” – Lucy Felthouse, Erotic Author

*****

“I liked The Pet Shop. The story is hot hot hot with multi-dimensional characters and a plot that is a bit mysterious… a memorable experience.” – BookingIt

*****

“Thoughtful, Different and Wicked this is one for those who love erotica with a lot of extra spice.” 4 out of 5, SexyReads.co.uk

*****

“…this story is full of sex that makes your heart pump and your libido race. This is one of the steamiest books I’ve read this year.” – 4 out of 5, Scorching Book Reviews

*****

“A satisfying mix of romance, kink, and inventive S&M, The Pet Shop reels the reader in, neatly side stepping clichés, and forcing you to read just one more chapter before you put it down.” – Oysters & Chocolate

*****

Coffee Time Romance“Full of decadent desire, sensual eroticism and hedonistic promises, Ms. Grace uses a wicked pen that enticed this reader into a world of pleasure unlike anything I have read before. The interaction between Stella and Tino is so scorching hot I practically left burn marks on the computer screen. To top it off, there are so many other erotic fantasies intertwined in this tale that this book must have hit upon everyone’s favorite desire. Whether it is male/male, male/female, male/female/male, female/male/female/female or BDSM this novel has it all. The Pet Shop is the cat’s meow!” 5 out of 5, Coffee Time Romance

*****
“WOW! The Pet Shop was such an unexpected and mindblowing read that not only have I gobbled it up in no time but it shot straight to my Top Reads of 2011 list! I can’t remember the last time I read such a combustive erotica novel. One of the hottest stories I have ever read, a definite Forbidden Favorite, and K.D. Grace just became an author I’ll have to watch!” – 5 out of 5, ‘Forbidden Favourite Award Winner’, The Forbidden Bookshelf

*****
The Romance Review“THE PET SHOP was like all the seven deadly sins wrapped up into one big sexfest. Lust, gluttony, envy, wrath, pride, and greed all showed their faces at some point in this book and I loved every bit of it! LOL I even felt a little debauched after reading it, and trust me, that’s not easy to do… Overall, I thought THE PET SHOP was one unusual and erotic read that was highly addictive. It was hard to put down because I just really couldn’t figure out what was going to happen next. This is my first K.D. Grace full-length read, and I have to say, I’m intrigued, so I’ll have to check out more of her work!” 4 out of 5, The Romance Reviews

*****

“I was immersed in this new world of leashes, eating off the floor, and walks because the writing was incredible! For a tempting tale of the dark side, read this! I swear, “The Pet Shop” will blow your mind!” 4 out of 5, Night Owl Reviews

*****

“The Pet Shop by K D Grace is, bar none, the best erotic romance novel I’ve read in a really, really long time. It’s scorching hot, creative and kinky, and heart-warming. Reading this novel requires a fan, a stiff drink and probably a cigarette or two. It’s that hot. If you like hot steamy sex, held together with a story of real content, you have to read this book. It is absolutely fabulous.” 5 out of 5, Romantic Reads Book Reviews

*****

“This unusual imaginative novel is addictive, fast paced and exciting. The ending as usual for KD has a brilliant twist I didn’t see coming. All her characters have substance and are intelligent human beings; we feel what they feel, we feel their hesitations and best of all we feel their passion how could I not love this book from the Mistress of erotica.” Midnight Boudoir

*****

“My first delve into a K.D. Grace book and I wasn’t disappointed… it held my attention. I enjoyed the characters, Stella and Vincent being my favourites, but there is secondary characters that are well rounded and engaging to follow them too.” Ramblings of a Book Bitch

*****

“I have enjoyed this author’s work before and this short novel was no exception. The Gift is beautifully written, utterly believable and seriously steamy. Tino is just fantastic and has gone straight to the top of my wish-list as a gift for any occasion! Unique, edgy, sexy and artfully crafted are just a few words I would use to describe The Gift. I am thoroughly looking forward to reading the rest of the series.” Top Pick, Miz Love Loves Books

PLEASE NOTE: This review is for The Gift, the first part of The Pet Shop.

*****

“This is the first book i’ve read by the lovely KD Grace and I have to say that her writing style is truly captivating. There are real emotions in this story which can be felt by the reader, and the sex scenes, wow, they are truly HOT!! This is one erotic fantasy that I wouldn’t hesitate in recommending …..just don’t forget the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door! ;)” Sassy’s Sex Toy Reviews

*****

“I have been rendered all but speechless after reading this book. This book is without a doubt one of the filthiest I’ve ever read.” 5 out of 5, Raunchy Reads

 

Another Post Card from KD

I’m on holiday in the Lake District right now, and here is my second post card  to you lovelies. We woke up Tuesday morning and decided to tackle a challenge. We walked from Grasmere over Easdale Tarn across Grasmere Common to High Raise and all the way back to catch the bus at Rosthwaite some twelve challenging miles away. Over crags and scrambles and bogs. It was typical Raymond and KD biting off almost more than we could chew, but totally loving the adventure. Here are a few shots.   When I return, I’ll do my best to inspire, entertain and titillate, but in the meantime, here are a few shots from Cumbria. Enjoy! I’ll be back in time for the next Shameless Selfie Sunday.

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A fabulous all-around view that sneaks up on you from the top of High Raise

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The View from the top out across the moorlands.

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It was 4:30 when we reached the summit of High Raise. We had been walking since 11:00 over a long craggy, but beautiful ascent.

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Food of the Gods! Grasmere Gingerbread! There’s only one place on earth where you can buy it. The recipe is a 200 year-old secret kept in a bank vault and people line up at Mrs Nelson’s to buy the stuff and it is SOOOO worth the wait! Great walking food!

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My walking partner. Hottest man on the fells!

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At the end of a scary walk over boggy, nondescript moors where a bit of navigation skill was needed. The view well worth the effort.

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We returned to our lovely hotel at 7:30 that night for a steamy shower and a lovely roast chicken dinner. It was a little over twelve miles of hard ascent and slogging through moorland bogs and worth every second of it! To date, it was one of the most challenging walks we’ve done.

 

A Post Card from K D

I’m on holiday in my favourite place in the world right now, so you lovely lot are going to get my version of a post card — piccies of my hols while I’m away, and even those might be a bit sparse since I don’t have the best internet connection. It’s a holiday!  When I return, I’ll do my best to inspire, entertain and titillate, but in the meantime, here are a few shots from Cumbria. Enjoy! I’ll be back in time for the next Shameless Selfie Sunday.

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No silliness whatsoever happened on this very serious walk in the Lansdale Pikes. It was a very serious walk, not to be taken lightly, and a very solemn occasion was had by all, right down to the pint of Rosy Pig Cloudy Cider with live Cumbrian folk music in the pub following said serious walk.

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We had fabulous mountain top views which no photo will ever do justice.

 

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We took all kinds of piccies of our sweaty selves at the tops to wave in front of the faces of our blog readers and anyone else who would hold still long enough for us to share with. Are you jealous yet? Believe me, I would share every single shot with you IF my internet connection wasn’t so crappy. I understand from the people who run the hotel that I’ll feel much better after a pint of cider in the pub. I reckon it’s best to follow the advice of the locals whenever possible, after all, they should know, right?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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