Category Archives: News

Sh! Women’s Store Hosting an Essential Elements of Erotic Writing Workshop Taught by Kay Jaybee & Me

September 2, 2016Blog, NewsKay Jaybee, Sh! Women's Store, writing erotica, writing workshopK D Grace

Would you like to write erotica? Maybe you’ve had a go but feel you’re missing something? Perhaps you’d really like to 13442263_1220482214628479_1390160962256925281_n try, but the whole idea of writing it all down makes you blush furiously? Well here’s your chance to past the blush and write the sizzle.

Kay Jaybee and I are very happy to announce that we’ll be joint-teaching an Essential Elements of Erotic Writing Workshop in London at Sh! Women’s Store on the 23^rd of September from 5:30-7:30 PM. We promise a sizzling evening of fun, filth and writing, all set in one of our favourite places on the planet, the fabulously sexy Sh! Women’s Store. That alone is enough to inspire erotic thoughts. Is there a better combination?

Kay and I are scheming and planning an inspiring, educational and filthy class, guaranteed to help you set aside your Sh!logo internal editor and get down to writing the good stuff in a nasty, fun way.

The cost is £20 per person and pace is limited, so be sure and sign up as soon as possible. (This workshop is open to
both sexes.) Follow the link for details and come join us prepared to write!

The Tutor Now Available for Preorder

August 31, 2016Blog, Newserotic romance, news, preorder blitz, romance, The Tutor, totally bound publishing, Totally EntwinedK D Grace

The-Tutor-KD-Grace_PromoSquare_PreOrder_final

The Tutor is now available for preorder!

There’s much rejoicing and happy dancing at Grace Manor! Who knew that a workshop writing prompt of a can of pears in heavy syrup and a mysterious summon to the storeroom of the local grocery store could lead to a full-length novel only a short month and a half later. Yup! That was the strange inspiration for The Tutor, and now less than a year after Kay Jaybee’s fabulous writing workshop at Smut Manchester inspired me, the novel is officially available for pre-order on Amazon and at the Totally Bound website, proving that sometimes when things go pear-shaped, it’s a good thing.

Now’s your chance be the first on your block to learn how a tin of pears changes the world forever for reclusive sculptor, Alexander ‘Lex’ Valentine and Kelly Blake – a struggling writer secretly moonlighting as a sex tutor. Here’s the blurb! Here are the links! And here is a sexy excerpt! Read! Enjoy! And pre-order the whole sexy, romantic read – pears and all!

Preorder The Tutor Now:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

TB Website

The Tutor Blurb:

When physical touch is impossible, intimacy may become a powerful work of art or a devastating nightmare—but, above all, it’s an act of trust.

Struggling writer, Kelly Blake has a secret life as a sex tutor. Celebrated sculptor and recluse, Alexander ‘Lex’ Valentine, can’t stand to be touched. When he seeks out Kelly’s advice incognito, the results are too hot to handle. When Kelly terminates their sessions due to what she considers her unprofessional behavior, Lex takes a huge risk, revealing his identity to her at a gala exhibition, his first-ever public appearance. When Kelly helps the severely haphephobic Lex escape the grope of reporters and paparazzi, rumors fly that the two are engaged, rumors encouraged by well-meaning friends and colleagues. The press feeding frenzy forces Kelly into hiding at Lex’s mansion where he convinces her to be his private tutor just until the press loses interest and she can go back home. They discover quickly that touch is not essential for sizzling, pulse-pounding intimacy. But intimacy must survive the secrets uncovered as their sessions become more and more personal.

thetutor_facebook

The Tutor Excerpt:

“Was this your idea or Dillon’s? Kelly asked, hoping to relax him.

“It was mine, after Andy told Dillon and he told me. I thought it was something that I …” The muscles along Lex’s jaw looked as though they were made out of iron, and a fine blush crawled up his neck tinting his ears bright pink. “I’ve never touched a woman … in that way.” He forced a laugh. “Obviously. I’ve …” the blush deepened and he avoided her gaze. “I’ve put lube on some of the sculptures – you know — down there, but I … well it isn’t the same.”

“The pears won’t be either,” she said, her heart suddenly aching at the physical isolation this man endured on a daily basis, and it wasn’t just her heart that ached, she felt his lack deep in her core. It had been easier with Andy. She had been almost flippant with him. She was sorry for that now. She spread one of the towels on the Queen Anne chair across from him and settled herself onto it so they were facing each other. “The texture will be different and with the pear there’ll be less give.” She dipped her fingers in the bowl and rubbed the heavy juice between her index finger and her thumb. “If you touch a woman, she’ll be much warmer.” She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “You’ll be amazed at how warm and how soft she’ll be down there when she’s ready to be touched. With Andy, this,” she nodded down to the pears, “was improvisation, this was the best I could do under the circumstances, but a woman, well a woman feels like nothing you’ve ever touched before.”

He was no longer avoiding her gaze. His eyes were locked on her, and he was struggling to keep them on her face, she knew that; she understood the urge for him to drop his eyes to the place of which she spoke, the place with which she was so intimate, the place that couldn’t help but respond to the topic, to the situation, to the strange intimacy they had shared almost since the moment they’d met.

“You can look, if you want,” she opened her legs so that he could see the place in between clothed in black denim, completely disguised and yet so very obvious. “And I’ll look at you too,” she nodded down to his own jeans straining to contain him already. “It’s what men and woman are naturally inclined to do when there’s a sexual attraction.”

With her heart hammering in her throat, she took one of the pear halves into the cupped palm of her left hand, then she brought it down between her spread thighs, feeling the juice of it run over her fingers and drip onto the towel as she spread her legs a little farther and held her palm to mimic the position of her vulva. “Touch it like a woman would touch it, and you’ll always get it right.” She drug her index and middle finger up from the bottom of the pear to the center and felt her own body respond in empathy. “The pear has no folds, no secret valleys, no swollen flesh to be teased open, so you’ll have to use your imagination with that.”

Lex gave a little moan soft and deep in his chest as he shifted to make himself more comfortable. “I know the anatomy,” he said. “I’ve watched porn and I’ve studied drawings. I know how it looks like it might feel. I know the response it elicits.” His tongue flicked nervously over his upper lip. “Of course that’s just acting, isn’t it?”

“Porn is about fantasy, about voyeurism, and it doesn’t matter if it’s real if it gets you off. But when it is real,” she spread her index and middle finger up the sides of the pear’s central opening, “if you’re good, if your sensitive, you’ll feel the spasms of your lover’s orgasm, even see them if you’re using your tongue; and you can feel them gripping at your cock when your inside her. If you’re paying attention.

“The clitoris,” she laughed softly, “Well with Andy I used a Ticktack, but he’s a chemistry major. He likes charts and graphs and periodic tables. You’re an artist, you live in your imagination, so you don’t need a Ticktack. Some women like the thumb stroking and circling while the other fingers work inside. Some women like to use their fingers.” She demonstrated on the pear, and Lex groaned. “It’s always best to ask and be sure.”

“What do you like?” His words were a labored rasp against the back of his throat, and

Kelly found herself stunned by the question, and way more aroused than she wanted to be. He shouldn’t have asked. She should have answered. But she did.

“I like it this way.” She shifted her hips and opened a little further so he could see her thrust and scissor, circle and probe technique, and her body responded with the tight grip and release of muscle memory.

“Jesus,” he whispered moving forward on the sofa and leaning closer for a better look. “And when someone uses their tongue?”

She caught her breath in a giddy laugh. “Afraid I can’t tell you what I do since, sadly I’m not that flexible.”

“But you can tell me what you like.” His voice had gone rough.

“I like the flat of the tongue to part me and then probe me, circle my clit and then kiss and suck.” She closed her eyes, finding it difficult to meet his gaze when she spoke about something so intimate, so secret. Come to think of it, she’d never had a man actually ask her how she liked it. The few who had given a rat’s ass about her pleasure had been happy enough to let her order them about, but never quite got the hang of it.

It was the loud schussing sound that caused her to open her eyes. Lex had moved the coffee table out of the way paying no attention to the slosh of pear juice all over the towel V had spread. His eyes were locked on Kelly as he fished out his own pear half and fell to his knees in front of her. When she realized what the man was about to do she dropped the pear she’d been holding with a little gasp of surprise and scooted as far back in the chair as she could. He knelt low, holding the pear in the cup of his hand, as she had, placing it against the edge of the chair between her legs! She gave a little yelp and scrambled back in the chair still further, spreading her thighs over the rise of the chair arms to keep from touching him. He moved forward, the back of his hand so close to her crotch that she could feel the heat of it, and he lowered himself still further until his hair nearly brushed the insides of her thighs. Then, still looking up at her from his position on the floor, he began at the bottom of the open pear half and ran his tongue flat and undulating all the way up, flicking in just slightly in a little circle at the top end before he closed his lips around the apex and she could hear the slurp and suck of the sweet syrup.

“Oh! Lex! Ah!” And then she went non-verbal, holding her breath, tightening muscles deep inside her body, the only muscles she dared to move if she were to keep from touching him. She raised both arms and fisted her hands in a suicide grip around the back of the chair to keep from curling them in his hair. Her thighs trembled from her efforts to keep her legs on the chair arms and not throw them over his shoulders for leverage. She didn’t move. She didn’t breath as he licked and nuzzled and suckled until pear juice ran down his chin and onto his tee-shirt, until his face was damp and sticky, until his forehead was sheened with perspiration, and still he held her gaze as though they were locked together in each other’s orbit neither able to move without the other’s consent.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come.” She barely managed a warning when his own convulsion brought him dangerously near her body. He had stopped breathing, she was sure of it. She practically climbed the back of the chair to keep from touching him as he lost control. Then with a tremendous gasp of oxygen, he straightened, let the pear fall from his hand onto the aubusson carpet and looked up at her.

“I’m going to pass out.” And he did.

*****

Early Download (on the TB website): 13^th September

General Release: 11^th October

Lust and Magic: Shameless Selfie on the Fells

August 20, 2016News, Work in Progresserotica, First Chapter, Lakeland witches, paranormal, Shameless SelfieK D Grace

13924941_10206900506259504_2409484410935329656_n Yup! You guessed it! Being just back from some serious fell walking in the Lake District, today’s shameless selfie is inspired by my week of walking in the sunshine – a very lucky weather condition in the English Lakes, and one that can change in a heartbeat. In fact it was that sudden change in the Lakeland weather that inspired my four-novel Lakeland Witches series. When what started out as a walk on a sunny day turned into a downpour accompanied by thick mist, I was inspired – after I was down safely drinking coffee in a tea shop in Grange.

This weekend’s Shameless Selfie is the first chapter of Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of the Lakeland Witches series. Enjoy!

WARNING: Seriously adult content … and lots of magic.

Body Temperature and RisingBlurb:

Book one of the Lakeland Witches trilogy (Click here for: Book Two | Book Three)

American transplant to the Lake District, MARIE WARREN, didn’t know she could unleash demons and enflesh ghosts until a voyeuristic encounter on the fells ends in sex with the charming ghost, ANDERSON, and night visits from a demon. To help her cope with her embarrassing and dangerous new abilities, Anderson brings her to the ELEMENTALS, a coven of witches who practice rare sex magic that temporarily allows needy ghosts access to the pleasures of the flesh.

DEACON, the demon Marie has unleashed, holds an ancient grudge against TARA STONE, coven high priestess, and will stop at nothing to destroy all she holds dear. Marie and her landlord, the reluctant young farmer, TIM MERIWETHER, are at the top of his list. Marie and Tim must learn to wield coven magic and the numinous power of their lust to stop Deacon’s bloody rampage before the coven is torn apart and more innocent people die.

Body Temperature and Rising Chapter One:

Out of nowhere the clouds descended, blocking the midday sun and the view of the Borrowdale Valley below. The path ahead of Marie vanished in a roil of thick mist. She shivered, then squinted at her compass. Damn it! The weather forecast had promised sunshine for the day, unseasonably warm, it had said, just like it had been all week. She reassured herself that there was no real way she could get lost on Maiden Moor and High Spy, so close to civilization. Then why did the mist feel so unsettling?

She shifted the pack on her back and tried to remember if this was the route she had taken with her parents. But that was fifteen years ago, and there had been no fog.

The world around her fell silent, as she stepped cautiously forward. She heard no bird song, no breeze, and stranger still; on what was a frequently walked path, she heard no other people. It was as though she were the only person left in the world. As she followed the flank of the fell around, the silence deepened still further until even the sound of her own breath seemed muted in the mist. Goose flesh rose along the back of her neck, and she shivered. A few more steps and the sound of a woman’s voice, half whispered in the mist, stopped her in her tracks.

‘Anderson? Are you there?’ 1

The knot in her stomach tightened at the possibility of this Anderson being lost to his companion in the fog.

‘Anderson?’ The voice came again. It didn’t sound particularly frightened. ‘Anderson, I need you.’

Marie was about to round an outcropping of rock that obscured the path when, directly in front of her, the mist cleared, and she caught sight of the woman calling for this Anderson guy. Her dark hair was pulled back in a heavy pony tail, and her legs extended forever from underneath kaki walking shorts.

Marie was about to make her presence known when out of the fog, almost as though he had materialised from nowhere, stepped a dark-haired man with a closely trimmed beard. He was broad shouldered, a little taller than the woman, and dressed in a black suite of vintage cut.

Damn tourists, Marie thought. What the hell was he thinking coming on to the fells dressed like that? Her irritation was interrupted by an intense tingling of heat below her navel that flashed hot, took her breath away and nearly drove her to her knees before it cooled to a warm buzz and skittered down low inside her pelvic girdle. Just then the man scooped the woman into his arms and kissed her with an open-mouthed tongue- fondling that left Marie’s insides feeling like warm toffee. Instinctively she stepped back, not wanting to interrupt the reunion.

‘I was worried when you weren’t here,’ the woman spoke between breathless kisses.

‘Tara, my love, I came as soon as you called. You must not worry so.’

She released a sigh that was almost a sob. ‘I have good reason.’

‘Of course you do, my darling. But worry will not ease 2

our situation. So we shall do what we must. And I will do whatever it is you ask of me.’

There was something in the way the man spoke that was strange. The accent was very British, and yet not. And the way xcite1DEMON INTERRUPTEDedit
he moved against the woman, the way he protectively pulled her to him, the way his mouth made love to hers banished Marie’s irritation that they’d chosen her path for their reunion. Irritation was replaced by longing that ached down through her torso to mingle with the strange buzz that had migrated to the soft spot between her legs, and the air felt suddenly warmer. The man’s hands joined the reunion. He slid the strap of the woman’s tank top down to spill a bare breast heavily into his waiting palm. He paused to knead it and fondle it as though he had never seen anything more exquisite. Then he took as much of it into his mouth as he could. The woman released a shrill gasp as though cold water had been poured onto her. ‘I can feel it,’ she breathed. ‘We were right.’ Then she held him to her, letting him nurse at her in hungry nibbles and slurps.

Marie should have left, and yet she stood riveted to the rock beneath her, feeling heavy and pliant, as though something had suddenly filled her and was moulding her and shaping her from the inside with fiery hands. Her breasts tingled at the rub and tickle of the man’s beard against Tara’s tender flesh, at the tug and pull of pursed lips on swollen nipples. She felt almost as though it were her breasts at which he nursed.

Marie clasped her hand over her mouth to hold back a gasp of appreciation as, from the man’s trousers, the woman manoeuvred the longest, thickest erection she had ever seen. Not that she’d seen that many erections When had there been time? She could almost feel the hot stiffened twitch of maleness against the woman’s hand.

As the mist floated around them revealing, concealing and revealing again, he slipped his other hand into Tara’s shorts. She caught her breath and nibbled her bottom lip as he found what he was looking for. Then she squirmed and twisted against him, practically sitting on his hand, as he stroked her. The look on her face was one of deepest concentration.

For a moment the mist thickened around the couple, and Marie held her breath listening desperately to hungry grunts that she felt deep in her belly and to little throaty moans that tingled down low, down where she shifted almost unconsciously into the dampening press of her panties against her labia.

When the mist cleared again, Anderson was sliding Tara’s shorts down, kneeling to kiss and nibble her calf as he lifted one exquisite leg free from both shorts and a pale lace thong that was definitely not what Marie would consider standard walking apparel.

He lifted the freed leg higher until Marie was afforded the perfect view of the woman’s distended lips, glistening like the heavily-dewed hawthorn flowers she’d cut this morning for a vase on her kitchen table. Marie was certain her own pout had to be at least as wet. The heat and the buzz between her legs intensified, and the slippery ache overrode the guilt at being an unwelcome voyeur, as she wriggled and strained against the seam of her walking trousers and her much more practical panties.

Anderson lifted Tara’s still booted foot onto his shoulder in reckless disregard for his pristine suit. He moved forward cupping Tara’s arse cheeks in large kneading handfuls, guiding her into enough of a squat to position her splayed cunt so that his tongue had easy access. Then he buried his face deep into the woman’s pussy, as though he planned to split her in two with his

tongue and the wedge of his face. The woman trembled and pressed back hard against the rock, surely just to keep from collapsing under the overwhelming pleasure of what Anderson’s mouth must feel like eating at her so deeply.

Lakeland Witches 3 EF Marie was amazed that, totally surrounded by fog as they were, her view was still perfect, even enhanced. She could almost feel the distended press of the woman’s nipples as she tugged and pulled at them with the hand not curled possessively in the man’s dark hair. She could almost smell the slippery sheen of the woman’s heat coating the man’s beard. And the rise and fall of his chest matched her own hungry need for oxygen. A single droplet of precome glistened on the head of his uncut cock. It lewdly, jutted and danced between his legs like an escapee from his dapper trousers. It boldly proclaimed freedom with each bounce and shudder against heavy balls pressed tight in their own effort to escape confinement.

It was as if the world in the mist now contained nothing else but the three of them. And the world the three of them inadvertently shared had shifted into slow motion, as though every detail were magnified, intensified and stretched to the breaking point all at the juncture between Marie’s thighs.

Even in her fantasies nothing like this had ever happened. Marie moved very carefully, feeling the rock shift under her feet as she eased her cold hand down the front of her trousers and into her panties. She shuddered at her first touch. Her knees felt weak as water as she wriggled her fingers in between her pussy lips, already drenched and swelling. She couldn’t hold back a sigh at the velvety feel of herself, at her salty sweet aroma infusing the fresh fell air.

In the crescendo of her lust she wondered if even the 5

crotch of her trousers would bear the mark of her heat when she was finished, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if her juices flooded and ran down her legs to puddle on the path beneath her, she could not have pulled away if her life depended on it. It was as though she were the invisible third party entangled in a rutting threesome too far gone to disengage.

Anderson tongued his way up over Tara’s belly, his face shimmering with her moisture, moving upward to suckle each of her nipples in turn before he pulled her to him and whispered against her ear.

Marie froze, her hand still in her knickers. She held her breath, but she couldn’t make out the man’s words.

Tara nodded and spoke breathlessly. ‘Yes, I know. I feel it. Such a powerful lust. We can’t hide it. There’s no way.’ She gave his cock a caress, and it jumped at her touch.

‘I fear it is far too late for that now.’ He turned her to the flank of the rise, where she bent, resting her arms against the rock, exposing the half-domes of her arse cheeks to Anderson and to Marie.

Tara lifted one knee onto a boulder. As Anderson helped position her, Marie caught an exquisite glimpse of the dark clench of her anus. As he spread her and she shifted her hips to accommodate him, the engorged lips of her cunt pouted into view again, open and anxious before him, before Marie.

As Marie watched his fingers move over the slick spread of the woman’s open folds she wished it were her cunt 13873113_10206900507379532_2466330018196114994_n Anderson was caressing. But at the same time she wished she could touch the soft smooth skin that opened itself so pliantly to his probing. Marie could swear she smelled the tide pool of the woman’s arousal, different from her own, yet so delicious that it made her mouth

water. Anderson postured over Tara, his cock like a sword pressing downward in his hand. His open fly exposed only his cock and the squeeze of his balls, which somehow made the act seem all the naughtier.

Suddenly the air around her chilled. The world tilted, and Marie felt dizzy and confused as though she had just awakened from a dream to find herself somewhere other than where she should be. Hands cupped and splayed her, hands she couldn’t see. An erection that wasn’t there pressed anxiously at her cunt. Her heart hammered, everything below her navel surged hot and trembled. The press of flesh and the smell of sex enfolded her on all sides as though she were drowning in a heavy demanding caress, one that pushed at her, prodded at her, nuzzled at her, threatening to overwhelm her.

‘Please, Anderson I can’t contain it. Help me.’

It was the sound of Tara’s voice that pulled Marie back from cold panic, just as Anderson thrust home. Then the world warmed again and swung back into focus. Once more the sounds of pleasure filtered through the thick, otherwise silent air. As Anderson mounted Tara with a desperate grunt, it stopped mattering whether they knew she was there, and Marie felt strangely included in their intimacy. She pressed herself harder and harder into the palm of her hand, pinching her nipples until they ached in empathy with the growing rush building just behind her clit, a storm surge threatening to burst the dam and rip her apart.

Tara’s hair had come free from the pony tail and fell in a dark curtain around her face. Marie could almost see the heatwaves radiating up the woman’s spine, higher and higher, as though Anderson jack-hammered them into her with each joint-cracking thrust of his cock.

It was obvious Anderson was straining close to the 7
Lakeland Witches 2 RTE edge when Tara pulled away from him and turned around, grabbing his cock and keeping the rhythm steady. He dropped onto a bolder, then she knelt in front of him and began to slide his swollen erection between her breasts, faster and faster. Her eyelids fluttered and her lips moved rapidly, like she was saying something, chanting something over and over again, something Marie couldn’t quite make out. Not that she needed to with the sensory overload already throbbing through her whole body. Anderson braced himself against the rocks, thrusting with abandon between the tight grip of Tara’s breasts, every muscle tense and quivering, until at last his whole body shuddered. ‘Oh dear Goddess,’ he gasped.

Tara pulled back, guiding his cock so that his viscous load splattered across her breasts in high arching spurts. Marie felt fire spread through her chest and down over her belly in empathy with the couple, and she humped herself harder, whimpering, gasping desperate to come.

The look on Anderson’s face was ecstatic as he unloaded. Then he joined Tara in whatever it was she was still repeating over and over again. While they chanted, he caressed and massaged and stroked, spreading his semen as though he were spreading lotion over Tara’s body, even up her neck and onto her cheeks and forehead. All the while Tara undulated and moaned beneath his touch and continued her chant.

‘My seed covers, but the power still resides in you,’ Anderson breathed. ‘And shall we release it now, my love?’

Tara only nodded and continued her breathless mutterings.

Before Marie could wonder what they were on about, he lifted Tara onto an outcropping of rock that was just the right height. ‘Then we shall complete what we have

begun. Let me release it for you now, my darling, allow me the pleasure of finishing it.’

My God, the way the man talked, Marie thought. He could convince a woman her cunt was lined with gold. She could probably come just on his words alone.

He buried his face once more in Tara’s pussy, and once again, Marie felt as though she had been physically pulled into their intimacy.

With her gaze locked on the writhing couple, Marie tugged and pinched at the heavy nib of her clit until it buzzed with raw heat close to pain but much closer still to pleasure. She shoved and twisted and thrust the rest of her fingers into her grasping cunt until she reached the precipice, lingered there for a moment, then free-fell into a long dizzying orgasm, just as Tara convulsed her own release in breathless guttural grunts.

Marie’s legs gave under her, and she sat down hard, letting the aftershocks wash over her. Oxygen rushed back into her starving lungs. Muscles, strained to the point of collapse, relaxed and softened. The strange fire between her hip bones subsided to a warm thrum, and as the mist descended around her again, she managed to crawl to a mossy spot. Suddenly it didn’t matter how far she still had to walk or how thick the mist was. She could no longer hold her eyes open.

Just before she dozed, she thought she heard Anderson say, ‘There. That’s better, is it not?’

Buy Body Temperature and Rising Here:

Buy Lakeland Witches Book I Now

eBook

Amazon UK

Print

Amazon UK

Reviews:

“I am a huge fan of K.D. Grace’s explicit, well-crafted writing (I’ve selected and published her work in multi-author “Best” collections), and this novel did not disappoint me. It’s the first of a hardcore paranormal trilogy, and many readers think it is her best work to date.” Violet Blue

*****

“Body Temperature and Rising is my favourite of K D Grace’s books so far… So if you’re looking for a well-written, pacy and smokin’ hot paranormal romp, I’d point you towards this book. One warning, though. As soon as you’ve read it, you’ll want to read the next book immediately. I know I do!” 5 out of 5, Erotica For All

*****

“This is powerful, sexy writing from the extremely competent K D Grace. The story contains a compelling narrative. And all of it is set in the most beautiful scenery in the natural world. You really will love this book.” Erotica Readers & Writers Association

*****

“The plot definitely engaged me. It’s a series of one intriguing revelation after another, and one steamy interlude DI_teaser leading into another. Ms. Grace gives the reader a complex story of ghosts, witches and sex magic that I enjoyed and I think you will too.” 4.5 out of 5, Dark Haven Book Reviews

*****

“This well-written, full-length erotic novel comes from the pen of well-established writer K. D. Grace… easily one of the best books I’ve read!” Jade Magazine

*****

“For the love of all things steamy, this is one HOT read. Steamy, sexy and some other words that start with S and mean hot things, Body Temperature and Rising is definitely a wild ride. If you don’t like the sexy, stay out of the sex coven.” Reading the Paranormal

*****

“Crossing my fingers that there is more to come in this series and soon! Body Temperature and Rising is steamy hot with an involved plot. Definitely give this paranormal erotica a try!” BookingIt

*****

“Let me just say wow. The book is gripping and so erotic I lost my breath at times. It was an erotic treat and I enjoyed every second of it. While it is full of sex and damsels in distress it was a delicious read.” Books-n-Kisses

*****

“Erotic fans will really love this story however because the sex scenes and K.D. Grace’s writing style is perfect for that genre. This is the first book in this series, so I hope to see Marie and Tim’s relationship move closer together in future stories.” 4 out of 5, Romance Book Scene

*****

“This full length paranormal and erotic novel had me gripped from beginning to end… This beautifully written novel and a great mix of good plot and steaminess makes this a great start to the trilogy… Warning; make sure you have hours to spare as you can’t put this book down.” Midnight Boudoir

*****

“This erotic novel gripped me from the onset to the end, informative, descriptive and steamy with plenty of hot sexy scenes was just what I wanted from this type of book. So beautifully written I had trouble putting this book down. The author has really set the bar high and I think I will be a struggle to find another erotic novel this good.” Sex Toy Testers

*****

“…if you’re looking for a helluva lot of graphic sex, with ghosts and witches that can practically make you come just by breathing on you, multiple orgasms, group sex (and there’s a tiny bit of m/m and m/m/f action in there too), sex magic, interesting relationship dynamics without the romance development, a steady, strong plot… this book is for you. I highly recommend it.” Erotic Flashes

LANDSCAPES Blog Tour Begins on Monday!

July 1, 2016NewsK D Grace

Landscapes cover 12654238_1515192535449022_5292046566866535088_n

I’m very excited to announce that this Monday is the beginning of the Landscapes Blog Tour and Giveaway!

Ten blogs in two weeks and every one of them with a tale to tell about Alonso Darlington, Reese Chambers, Talia Zephora and their disturbing, chilling, sizzling story of friendship, lust and love.

In addition to the inside scoop about this strange trio, secrets from their remote Lakeland world and hints about their future, I’m also giving away a $30/£20 Amazon gift voucher. Comment for a chance to win!

Here’s a quick peek at the fabulous blogs I’ll be visiting and the topics I’ll be discussing.

Landscapes Blog Tour Calendar

Monday July 4: Liz Coldwell

Topic: A Vampire, a succubus and a Landscaper Go into a Pub: A Ménage of a Different Kind

Tuesday July 5: Victoria Blisse

Topic: Garden Porn for a Vampire?

Wednesday July 6: V’s Reads

Topic: Involving myself in the Story — Fan-Ficcing on Alonso Darlington

Thursday July 7: Jacqueline Brocker

Topic: Interview with a Vampire … OK not really. When asked for an interview, Alonso only growled and glared at me, so poor Jacqueline only gets an interview with the teller of the vampire’s tale.

Friday July 8: Lily Harlem

Topic: Landscapes: A First Time for Lots of Things

Monday July 11: Kay Jaybee

Topic: Vampires and Consent

Tuesday July 12: Nerdy Dirty and Flirty Blog

Topic: Power in the Blood

Wednesday July 13: Love Bites and Silk Ties

Topic: Freeing Erotica through the Paranormal Romance

Thursday July 14: Words of Wisdom from the Scarf Princess

Topic: The Thin Line between Heroes and Villains

Friday July 15: Dirty Birdies

Topic: When Characters just Keep On Giving

Ten posts on ten fabulous blogs with ten chances to win the giveaway.

Don’t miss out because the fun is just beginning.

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Landscapes Blurb:

Alonso Darlington has a disturbing method of keeping landscaper, Reese Chambers, both safe from and oblivious to his dangerous lust for the man. But Reese isn’t easy to keep secrets from, and Alonso wants way more than to admire the man from afar. Can he risk a real relationship without risking Reese’ life?

Landscapes Excerpt:

It was nearing dawn when Talia returned to our accommodations smelling of sex, as I knew she would if she were to obtain for me what I wanted. By then my blood burned in my veins, and my body felt too close to me, as though the flesh that I dwelt in suddenly conspired to crush me with its demands. And though I knew that Reese Chambers could not have refused her even if she had come to him as a toothless, foul-smelling hag, I hated her that he had poured himself into her body while I had been left with only my fantasies kindling my lust to an inferno.

Though my need was such that my flesh was fevered and my cock an insistent throb, until she returned, I held myself contained within skin that felt too thin. When she saw the state that I was in, she pulled the heavy drapes with an efficient tug, then with a nod of her head, motioned me to follow her down into the basement room that had been prepared for me. When she turned to me at the foot of the bed, before she could opened her kiss-bruised lips to speak, I took her mouth, starving for the first taste of him, the taste of his saliva, the taste of his blood, mixed with hers. She’d bitten him; he’d bitten her back. He was rough, and he liked to be treated rough, but he kept that to himself. He was embarrassed by it. His lips were slightly chapped from so much time in the sun and wind, and they’d slid against hers, suckling and stroking and pressing until her mouth opened to his. With ravenous laps of my tongue, I tasted him in her mouth, and she held back the moan of response, so I could hear the echoes of his groans, heavy with need he’d not satisfied in awhile, and I felt kinship in my own unsatisfied needs. Images of him flashed through my head. Christ, his eyes were green, dark green like the evergreen forests of the north, and he kept them open when he kissed her, taking her in with his eyes.

I shoved aside the silk of her low bodice exposing her breasts, breasts that his hands had cupped. My nipples peeked to sharp aching points at the feel of his calloused thumbs raking, pressing and releasing. I breathed in his scent on her breasts, burying my face in her cleavage, licking the taste of salty, slightly picante maleness, sniffing and tasting until I could stand it no more. In one violent jerk, I tore the dress all the way down and shoved it off her shoulders, away from the flesh he had licked and kissed and mounted. I cried out at the feel of him, weight on one elbow, knee spreading her thighs, fingers opening her heaviness, anxious to penetrate, anxious to relieve his need. And then, with Talia free of clothing, Reese Chambers’ essence filled the room. Talia’s panties were still wet with his semen mixed with her humid desire, and I tore them from her and forced her onto her stomach, onto her hands and knees, so that it was not her face I saw, but his that I imagined. With hands on her hips, I raised her bottom in the air and spread her still swollen, still slippery folds with fingers made awkward by my arousal, letting the scent of his hot bread and honey release intoxicate me. Then I buried my face in her snatch and, as I ate his lust from her, I knew him.

He was Cumbrian born and bred, and his accent was the soft lilting sound of the fells. He was a landscaper and a gardener by trade. His hands held the magic of the earth and his mind conceived ideas for beautiful outdoor spaces; those he liked best were patterned after Renaissance and medieval gardens. He was homesick and heartsick. He’d gone to Surrey to work with his father because the money was good. But his father had died recently and he had returned home to Cumbria. He didn’t care if he had to work in a pub or muck stables. He wanted to be home. He missed the people and he missed the fells. He missed the simpler, more honest rhythms of life. He was shy, even a bit reclusive. He read voraciously and widely, he liked astronomy and he was afraid of snakes, though it embarrassed him to admit it. He hadn’t had sex in a long time, and found it better to have a wank session than a meaningless encounter. The facts of him, the details of his life raced at me in a flood I consumed ravenously with each lap of my tongue.

As I ate Talia I felt the shape of his face, the curve of his chin, the rise and fall of his chest as he had done the same. I felt the soft tuft of bronze curls nestled between the hard rise of his pecs and the courser, deeper curls that caressed his testicles and his cock when it was at rest, but it hadn’t been at rest. How many times had he taken her? He was thick enough to fill her and the friction of him inside was delicious and maddening. The shape of him – I wanted to caress the shape of him, with my hands, with my mouth, and the taking of his essence from Talia was an act of ripping away something that should have been mine. As I bruised her arse with kneading fingers and, as I licked the last of his release from her, she managed a breathless moan. ‘Take the rest. God, Alonso, take the rest, and release me.’

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“Landscapes is, quite simply, one of the best pieces of paranormal erotica I’ve read in a very long time. Ms. Grace’s eloquent, sensual prose weaves a spell that pulls you into the shadowy world of vampire Alonso Darlington and turns his desperate, reluctant, indirect pursuit of landscaper Reese Chambers into a pulse-pounding, breath-stealing fever dream.” Lisabet Sarai

A View From Above: Lakeland Keeps on Inspiring

May 29, 2016Blog, New Releases, NewsDemon Interrupted blog tour, inspiration, Lakeland, new release, writingK D Grace

Raymond and I have just been to Smut by the Sea and have had a wonderful time with our smutty creative friends. Tomorrow we’ll head to one of my favourite places in the world, The Lake District. That coupled with the release of Demon Interrupted, and the blog tour that starts tomorrow it seemed appropriate to revisit this post from the archives because with my return, with the release of Demon Interrupted and Landscapes, which dovetails into the Medusa Consortium Series, and In the Flesh, once again I discover that the story, like the place, is so much bigger than I ever could have imagined. Back before I started work on the Lakeland Witches Trilogy, back when I thought there was only going to be one novel, I struggled hard to move forward and couldn’t figure why it wasn’t working. And then I got a glimpse, just a little glimpse, but enough, of the whole picture, and I understood that the story I was trying to tell was a trilogy and not a one-off. The story I needed to write, was way too big for one novel. Even a trilogy wasn’t big enough to contain the story, and Demon Interrupted was born.

I was reminded again how important that view of the overall picture can be when a good friend sent me a link to a breath-taking photo of the Lake District taken from the International Space Station, and I was deeply moved by such a view of a place I love, of a place that inspired and figured strongly, into each of the three Lakeland Heatwave novels, Demon Interrupted and the Medusa Consortium, almost as if it were another character in its own right.

The photo was tweeted by Canadian astronaut, Chris Hadfield from on board the International Space Station, orbiting roughly 200 miles above the earth, moving at over 17,000 miles per hour.

How could such a ‘snapshot’ of one of my very favourite places not get me thinking about writers and the way we view our stories. I’ve always been an advocate of what I like to call snapshot writing. Snapshot writing is giving the reader snippets of detail, of experience, of a fleshed-out moment so full, so rich that the reader can feel it, taste it, revel in it. A snapshot can say so much about an event, often way more than words can. So for me one of the most powerful tools in my writing tool box is to create a snapshot with words, to write a moment so vividly that readers are instantly transported to the place and time. Commander Hadfield’s amazing snapshot from space has done just that for me.

Imagine my delight when I realised that I could not only see the whole of the Lakeland Witches stories and the Medusa Consortium stories in that snapshot, but I could see all the snapshots, all the intricately woven stories of my own adventures on the fells, of my own explorations and uncoverings of Lakeland one footstep at a time.

How could I not wonder what Alfred Wainwrightwould have thought if he could see his beloved Lakeland in such a view from above? His incredibly detailed drawings and descriptions of the Lakeland Fells are among the most accurate, most lovely, most poetic ever recorded. I can’t count the number of times I’ve sat in the Twa Dogs Inn in Keswick, the night before climbing a fell I’d never walked before, drinking Cumberland Ale while reading through Wainwright’s notes and studying the maps and drawings from his Pictorial Guides of the Lakeland Fells. The beauty in the minute detail of his work is now reflected in a stunning overview from space. How could anyone not be moved by that?

More than just the love of Lakeland, which I could go on and on about, and frequently do, is the sense of place such a snapshot from space gives. (I’ve added links with lots of pictures to show you the up-close-and personal of what you can see from a distance from the ISS photo. Enjoy!) I can look at that shot and see Ullswater and Derwent Water. I can see snow-capped Helvellyn and Skafell Pike, the highest peak in England. I can see the Borrowdale Valley, the Newlands Horseshoe, Honister Pass – all the places my characters in the Lakeland trilogy frequent – all the places I’ve frequented, and I couldn’t not share it. So if you look closely at the picture, the highest snow-covered point in the lower Landscapes right — that’s Helvellyn. Its iconic Striding Edge put me to the test in one of the most adrenaline-laced, exquisite walks I’ve ever done in the Lake District.

And if you look to the left and slightly lower, at the last snow-covered range in the picture, that high point is Scafell Pike, the highest point in England and another walk I’m proud to say I’ve had the pleasure of doing.

But now, if you look in between those two ranges and slightly north, settled, almost centred, in between the two is a dark spot, roughly oval in shape with jagged edges. That’s Derwent Water with Keswick on the northeast shore invisible to the naked eye from so far above. To the south of the lake, where the fells begin again, is the Borrowdale Valley. And slightly to the left, you can just make out the irregular U-shape of the Newland’s Horseshoe, all of the above frequented by my characters in the Lakeland trilogy, frequented by me. The Newland’s Horseshoe is the place where both Marie Warren and I first ‘got lost’ in the mist. The Borrowdale Valley and the Newlands Horseshoe are the places that inspired the trilogy, the places where heather clings to steep cliffs, where deserted slate quarries make for slippery descents, where the views are breath-taking and where it can all disappear into the mist in a heartbeat.

I’m so glad it was clear the day Commander Hadfield took this picture. I can’t stop looking at it. I love the fact that I’m somehow connected to that place and all the stories it evokes – not just mine, but everyone else’s – all those poets and walkers and writers and photographers and artists – past, present and yet to come — who have found Lakeland as powerful and as moving as I have. I’m connected to all of them, and by that connection, to all of those who read the writings and look at the works of art inspired by that tiny, rugged piece of land that’s just as exquisite when seen from 200 miles above as it is when explored slowly, painstakingly, one footstep at a time.

Surely there is no other place in this whole world quite like Lakeland … no other so exquisitely lovely, no other so charming, no other that calls so insistently across a gulf of distance. All who truly love Lakeland are exiles when they are away from it.

Alfred Wainwright

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