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In The Flesh Part 21: Dark Paranormal Romance in Progress. Enjoy!

In the Flesh 11880534_1463650103936599_545702979581425574_n



As the situation grows more intense and Annie’s condition deteriorates, in episode 21 of In The Flesh, Michael and Susan help each other.


In the Flesh  is very dark paranormal erotica. When Susan Innes comes to visit her friend, Annie Rivers, in Chapel House, the deconsecrated church that Annie is renovating into a home, she discovers her outgoing friend changed, reclusive, secretive, and completely enthralled by a mysterious lover, whose presence is always felt, but never seen, a lover whom she claims is god. As her holiday turns into a nightmare, Susan must come to grips with the fact that her friend’s lover is neither imaginary nor is he human, and even worse, he’s turned his wandering eye on Susan, and he won’t be denied his prize. If Susan is to fight an inhuman stalker intent on having her as his own, she’ll need a little inhuman help.




To read the story in its entirety up to this point, follow these links to  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13Part 14Part 15Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20.


In The Flesh Chapter 21

‘It’s not all you want, just for Annie to be okay. You’re bargaining, Susan. In your head you’re bargaining.’ As Michael came and settled beside me on the bed, I could smelled the cold fell air on his skin and the hard muscles of his forearm were cool as he brushed against me. He took Annie’s hand and gently tucked it back under the duvet, then he took mine in his own. ‘You want to go back to be with Him. You think if you go back to Him, he’ll make everything all better because you’re certain that you’re the one he’s been waiting for all these centuries.’

When I tried to pull away, tried to be offended, he held me tight. ‘I know that’s what you want, rose imagesSusan, because it’s what I want too. It’s what anyone who’s ever been the center of His attention would want, but they’re all dead.’ His words were like an ice bath waking me from a deep sleep with a cold that went clear to the core of me. He continued. ‘They’re all dead because of Him. It’s just the three of us now. And Annie, well no matter what happens, just like you and me, she’ll want that same thing, she’ll want with all of her being to go to Him. Until her dying day that’s what she’ll want, and that day won’t be long in coming if we can’t figure out what to do to imprison the Guardian again.’

I bit my lip and looked down at his large hand folded over mine, his thumb stroking my knuckles in much the way I had Annie’s. ‘Is that why you left the study while Magda was reading? Because you wanted to go to Him?’

He took a deep breath and looked up at me from beneath thick lashes. ‘Partly. Your … account of what happened to you in the crypt, your first encounter with Him, made me think of my first time being in His presence, made me think about what it had cost to be free of Him.’ He suddenly seemed to have trouble breathing, ‘And it made me realize once again that I’m not free of Him. I want to go to Him so badly that it feels like fire burning me up insides, and I’m not likely to ever be free of Him unless Magda can figure something out.’

For a moment we sat in silence. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said at last. ‘I didn’t know when I wrote those things.’ I bit back a sob. ‘I didn’t even remember writing them until Magda started reading, and even then it’s sketchy in places. But I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t even know you.’

‘I didn’t think that you meant to hurt me,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t offended, believe me, I wasn’t. It was Bernini Hades and Persephone close uptumblr_lg4h59T3z31qe2nvuo1_500
just, well I remembered all over again His way … His way of never letting go of anyone He’s ever touched, and I felt it more strongly in your words than I had since I was the object of His affection, that’s all. Well, that and, I was jealous. I’m always jealous when someone else has His attention. Just like you are. Just like Annie is.’

‘Christ, I’ve made such a mess of things!’ I shoved my way off the bed and paced the perimeter of the room, which was small, almost dungeon-like by comparison to my own. ‘I can’t just sit here and do nothing.’

‘You’re not doing nothing,’ he said watching me pace. ‘You’re working with people who can help. Magda has a plan and you have to trust her.’

‘How can I trust her when she left me in the crypt? And what kind of magic is she working on Annie? How do I know that her solution is not to just kill Annie and be done with it?’

Michael’s jaw tightened beneath the stubble that had grown enough to make him look even more dangerous than he usually did. ‘If she wanted your friend dead, she’d already be dead, not lying here in a clean bed in a safe house.’

‘A safe house? With a vampire and a succubus, and who knows what else? A werewolf or two? Maybe an army of zombies? Fuck, I’m open to anything these days. Good thing the beasties and ghouls are all on our side, isn’t it, Michael?’

‘It is, actually,’ he said in a voice so calm that you’d think I’d just made some benign comment about the weather. Then he added, ‘they all work for Magda. Well, Alonso does, the others work for him. Talia and Reese are his familiars.’

‘Jesus, I’m living a Bram fucking Stoker novel!’

The unexpected chuckle of a response was laced with a hint of bitterness. ‘Oh nothing so simple blue moon 2as that.’ Then before I could question further he said, ‘Look, Magda does what’s necessary, and she seems to be able to see and understand just what that may be without all the squeamish grey areas of conscience most of the world has.’

‘That doesn’t make me feel any better, Michael. What? We’re all just collateral damage if she decides it’s best to throw the baby out with the bath water? Is that it? Who the hell is she, anyway, and why does she always wear those Men In Black glasses?’

His lips thinned to a tight, straight line, as though they were suddenly sealed. ‘Her story’s not mine to tell. You’ll have to ask her yourself.’

‘I bloody well will,’ I said, turning toward the door.

‘Wait!’ He grabbed my hand and guided me out into the silent corridor, pulling the door shut behind. ‘She’s not here at the moment. You can talk to her when she gets back.’

‘Where is she?’

‘On business that’s none of mine, or yours.’ He said, tightening his grip on my hand. ‘She keeps her own council and for the most part the less I know about it, the happier I am. I wager Alonso feels the same.’

‘She’s a scary bitch, that’s what she is,’ I said, wishing the instant I’d said it that I hadn’t, wondering if maybe she was listening, just waiting to catch me out, to catch me saying or doing something I shouldn’t, so she could lock me back down in the crypt. Maybe I was the bate; Maybe I was the collateral damage necessary to imprison the Guardian again.

‘No one who knows her would argue that point,’ Michael said. ‘But she’s the only one here who has a clue how to deal with the Guardian, the only one I know to ever imprison Him. And He was there, safely out of commission for a long time, a very long time, thanks to her.’

‘Until I released Him.’

‘I have no doubt He deceived you into it. No one was supposed to be able to hear him or be 2015-06-30 11.27.42aware of him in any way, and no one has been before you. Magda says it’s to do with you being a Scribe. I don’t understand it all. She’ll have to explain.’

‘I’ll add that to my list of topics for conversation at our next little coffee clutch,’ I said.

‘Despite the woman being a scary bitch, or possibly because she’s a scary bitch, she’s our best chance of locking Him away again,’ Michael said.

‘You believe that?’

He nodded. ‘If we do as she says, I think she’ll get us out of this situation without that collateral damage you mentioned. If we do as she says.’ At the passage that led down into the basement to Alonso’s study, he turned aside and led me up a winding set of stone steps circling what had to be the inside of a tower.

‘Where are we going? What’s going on?’ I asked, struggling on the uneven steps. The words were barely out of my mouth before, halfway up the stairs, he pulled me through an arched doorway we both had to stoop to enter, and into a round stone room not much bigger than a janitor’s closet. It contained nothing but a twin bed and a nightstand, the only light coming from a small slit of a window at the back of a curved wall. Nothing else caught my attention before he slammed a heavy wooden door shut behind us and took my mouth in a scorching kiss pressing me up tight against the wall until I could feel the hard geography of his body shifting and undulating against mine which, before I knew what was happening was returning the favor.

‘Where are we? What the fuck are you doing?’ I honestly didn’t care what the answer to the first question was, and the second was just plain stupid, really. I knew the answer, and I knew what I was doing too, as I tugged at the belt to his jeans. There might have been a small part of me wondering how I could jump from the roller coaster of concern for my friend and plotting to get back to the Guardian to wanting to shag Michael’s brains out, but I shoved the thought aside as he went to work on the buttons of my shirt.

‘The mark, my mark,’ he emphasized. ‘It burns because it’s not been reinforced properly. I had St Martha's Hill 3intended to take care of it. Believe me, I was looking forward to it, but between the Guardian and Magda, I didn’t get the chance. It needs to be made stronger if it’s going to help protect you. Or me.’ He shoved the shirt off my shoulder and all but ripped the hooks of my bra open before he scooped my breast free, bent and began a delicious, tetchy suckle and bite, suckle and bite of the mark he’d left just above my nipple during our earlier love-making. If the Guardian’s touch had brought me excruciating pain through that mark, the feel of Michael’s tongue, his teeth, his lips brought me exquisite pleasure – far more pleasure than even his skilled fondling of my breasts should have been able manage.

As I ripped at his fly, he returned the favor, shoving my jeans and knickers down over my arse with a slight of hand that felt like magic … probably was magic, come to think of it. I wriggled and squirmed them down around my ankles and kicked one leg free, sending a shoe skittering across the stone floor, all the while he sucked and nipped, cupped and explored, and the mark sent heat waves of pleasure through every nerve ending in my body.

‘Get ‘em off! Get ‘em off, get ‘em off,’ had suddenly become my mindless mantra. I was much less graceful in my efforts than Michael had been in his, my hands made awkward, fingers unsteady by my own need. He responded to my uncomfortable tugging and shoving with a harsh, humid grunt against my breast. While wriggling and shifting as best he could in order to aid my efforts, he brought a jean-clad knee in between my thighs to open my legs, then teased me by bringing it up to rub and stroke until I was all but squatting onto it, rocking against it. Then he lost patience, gave a guttural curse, and shoved 2015-09-04 16.17.13my hands away to deal with his uncooperative jeans himself. All the while his mouth remained hard at work on my breast, on his mark.

With that same slight of hand movement that had freed me from my clothing, he managed his jeans –commando beneath, I noticed — though I barely had time to notice anything before he cupped my buttocks in large, calloused hands and lifted me. In one effortless thrusting of his hips, he pushed up inside me, gasping as though someone had knocked the breath out of him. I arched my back against the wall to get closer to his efforts, my legs circling his waist, one foot still trailing jeans and knickers, frantic to get a grip, frantic to have him where I needed him.

He bit my breast, and this time I did feel pain, delicious ecstatic pain that radiated in waves down over my belly to throb like a heartbeat deep in my core each time he thrust. Then he raised his head, taking my mouth savagely before pulling away, bathing me in the hot coffee scent of his breath and the hotter, darker, scent of his lust. ‘I won’t share you with Him, Susan. You belong to me now, and I might have been forgettable in your little account that Magda so kindly read, but I’m not now, nor will I ever be again.’

I grabbed him by the hair with a white-knuckled fist and forced his mouth back to my breast. 2015-08-24 12.54.32 HDR
‘Then you bloody well better make sure I don’t forget, Michael; do you understand me?’
In response, he bit again, and I cried out, but this time in orgasm, my head thump-thumping against the wall with each convulsive tremor as Michael clamped down hard and suckled as though he were a vampire and I was the main course. In all honestly, I wasn’t sure that he hadn’t drawn blood. Whether he had or not, the delicious result of the act was his own release, with each brutal pounding of his hips filling me with his fire, burning me, biting me, suckling me until the world disappeared, until I couldn’t recall my own name if my life depended upon it; until I could recall only one name, the only name on my lips over and over again, ‘Michael! Michael! Michael!’


Smut by the Sea 2015


This year will be the third Smut by the Sea at Scarborough Library and it’s bigger and better than ever before with a schedule filled with sexy, seaside shenanigans.  This year’s event is sponsored by Sexhibition, the brand new and innovative Sex expo to be held in Manchester this August. Smut UK will be there, you should be too!

On the 23rd May 2015 Smut UK will take over the upstairs of Scarborough library from 9am -5pm with workshops, performances and more to delight you. All day you will be able to indulge in the delights of the erotic market place. Get your homemade gifts and treats from Bella Settarra, and Cara Sutra will be giving away goody bags and selling sexy treats including DVDs, bondage gear and lube. Pick up a book from the Smutty book stall, check out Steph’s Ann Summers table and of course you must have a go on the world famous Erotic Tombola, you never know what you might win.

There will be two reading slams filled with top quality authors, make sure you come and listen to Cara SutraJanine AshblessKiki DeLovely, Charlie J Forrest , Bella SettarraAnna Sky, Slave Nano, Cameryn Moore, Helen J Perry, Ashe Barker, Jacqueline Brocker, Ashley R Lister, Lisabet Sarai, and Victoria Blisse as they read 5 minute excerpts for your aural pleasure.

Three diverse workshops will take place though out the day, Jennifer Denys will be leading one on researching and writing Werewolf stories, Slave Nano will be Kinking up the Past in his historical and sexy workshop and Cameryn Moore, professional potty mouth will be talking dirty to filth up your fiction or steam up your sex life.

And as if that’s not enough there will be performances from the Enchanting Bea Noir and the sensual Blue Belle and those brave enough can pick up a Free Spanking from Mistress Cara Sutra!

Tickets are still available including a VIP package that includes a sexy goody bag filled with treats, your lunch and priority seating in all workshops, performances and slams.


Yes Ma’am! Cover Story!

Many thanks to KD for letting me gate crash her site once again!!

Back in 2012, I wrote a collection of six female domination and male submissive stories called Yes Ma’am. To this day, it remains one of my most popular anthologies, but I have to confess, I haven’t publicised it very much, because I really really didn’t like the cover!!

In fact I disliked it so much, I can’t even bring myself to post a picture of it to show you! It featured a particularly unattractive half naked man, with dubious hair- enough said!

Unusually perhaps for an erotica writer, I have never been a fan of half naked people on book covers. They do nothing for me at all- not that I have a problem with half naked people-far from it! It’s the lack of imagination required that always bothered me. Where’s the mystery? Where’s the temptation to find out what lays within a books pages if it is all so blatant on the cover?

This is why I am so delighted with Yes Ma’am’s brand new look! It gives just the right amount of teasing temptation…especially for a book which contains six very different Fem Dom stories…

Check it out!!

Yes Ma'am 2015

A collection of six arse spankingly, wrist binding, whip wielding tales of female domination, Yes Ma’am contains straight, lesbian and bi-sexual encounters of the S&M nature.

Lying in Wait – Cadet Luke Porter is the least successful army recruit in the squadron. The butt of his comrades jokes, his reputation badly needs improving, and he is desperate to do well in the seek and rescue exercise he’s about to embark upon. Some of his female counterparts however, have other plans, and are determined to find out just how far Luke will go to improve his standing within the regiment…

Black – He is intoxicated by the woman in black. He can’t explain why he needs to see her, why he willing does precisely what she tells him to. Why she has such an effect on him, as she sits him in the backroom of a private club and weaves her web of control around him. He is beginning to think he has sold his soul to the devil herself…

Dear Claire – Ali has secretly lusted over her best friend’s lover Rick, for a long time. At least, she thought it was a secret. When her friend Claire asks her to take coffee into Rick as he lies in bed,  it appears that Claire has left Ali a gift wrapped present; her boyfriend, shackled, blindfolded, and ready for Ali to do whatever she likes with. Amazed by Claire’s generosity, Ali doesn’t know where to start, until she sees the neat sentence tattooed on Rick’s arse, ‘If I don’t obey my mistress, I will be punished.’

Don’t You Emma” – In a delicious corruption of Lee’s longed for fantasy, his lover Daisy arranges for them to share another woman. Rather than enjoying a full-on threesome however, Lee finds himself forced to sit and observe his partner perform all the chastisements she normally saves just for him upon a girl called Emma. A girl who, it seems, can withstand the punishments Daisy dishes out with far more self control than Lee has ever managed. Simply sitting in an armchair has never been so difficult…

Not Taking the Tube – Venting his frustration at being delayed yet again by London’s Underground system on the nearest official, the harassed businessman finds his complaints aren’t received in quite the way he’d expected. The petite guard upon whom he directs his anger has just about had enough of the constant string of complaints from the commuters she tries to help. Swiftly turning the tables on her latest assailant, she realises her own pent up anger quickly, sexily, and with the expert use of her surprised companion’s black leather belt…

Rachel’s Twisted Tale – Imprisoned in a bare room, high at the top of an old house, totally naked, her long golden plait wrapped around her body, Rachel waits. She waits for her mistress gaoler to punish her for being perfect. She waits for Tom, her secret lover, to climb in through the window and fuck her senseless. Rachel knows he could free her.  He could help her escape the agonies and humiliations she endures, but she doesn’t want saving. Rachel needs to stay. Rapunzel never suffered like this….

Buy Now

Available from


Amazon UK

Amazon US

and all good Kindle and eBook suppliers


Many thanks for letting me drop by today!

Happy reading,

Kay xx


sized- 711x430About Kay:

Kay Jaybee was nominated as the Best Erotica Writer of 2013 and 2014 by the ETO.

Kay wrote the The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (Xcite, 2011-14), Making Him Wait, (Sweetmeats Press, 2012), The Voyeur (Xcite, 2012), as well as the novellas, Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (2nd ed. 1001 NightsPress, 2013), Digging Deep (Xcite, 2013), A Sticky Situation, (Xcite, 2012), and The Circus, (Sweetmeats Press). She has also written the anthologies The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2012 & 2008), The Best of Kay Jaybee (Xcite, 2012), Tied to the Kitchen Sink, Equipment, (All Romance, 2012), Yes Ma’am (Xcite e-books, 2011), Quick Kink One and Quick Kink Two (Xcite e-books, 2010). Kay has had over 70 short stories published by Cleis Press, Black Lace, Mammoth, Xcite, Penguin, Seal, and Sweetmeats Press.


Find and Follow Kay Here:


You can follow Kay on Twitter- kay_jaybee,

Facebook http://www.facebook.com/KayJaybeeAuthor

Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3541958-kay-jaybee

Brit Babes Site- http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk/p/kay-jaybee.html

Kay also writes contemporary romance as Jenny Kane – www.jennykane.co.uk



INTERVIEWING WADE Launch Celebration: Bowling with Wade & Carla

Interviewing WadeAfter a celebration launch breakfast with Wade and Carla in Wade’s Dungeon, involving a fabulous sampling of Pop Tarts a la Flannery and Marshmallow Cream chocolate coffee, a la Chrittenden, Wade and Carla invite me to join them for an early morning bowling session at Clyde’s bowling alley – the place that has inspired some of Wade’s most innovative inventions.

Right off the bat, I march up to the lane, take three steps, as everyone has instructed me, let the ball go and fall flat on my ass, while the ball with some serious momentum, gutters long before it gets to the pins.

Wade watches it nodding. ‘I’ve never seen quite that kind of back spin on a ball. I think it has something to do with the way you were off balance when you let it go.’ The earnestness of his observation makes me laugh as I wait for the ball return rubbing my bruised butt.

‘Is that engineer speak for what happens when you fall an your ass while swinging a bowling ball?’

‘Well I suppose there’s a bit of that,’ he says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘I can give you the mathematics of what just happened if you’d like.’ The man has shed his requisite black hoodie and I’m suddenly reminded just how well-built he is. He’s sporting a faded red t-shirt on which I can barely make out a diagram of a carbon molecule superimposed over the Coca Cola logo with the words Carbon Nation written in the Coke font. ‘But I don’t think it would help your game.’

This time I managed to stay on my feet and boldly take out one pin on the far left after the ball slo-mo’s its way down the lane. ‘I don’t think much of anything would help my game,’ I say.

‘Looks to me like your ball’s to heavy,’ Clyde says.

‘Heavy balls can be a real problem,’ Carla says around a mouthful of Doritos. Wade gives her a sideways glance. She shrugs and Clyde sniggers.

As Clyde offers me several lighter balls to try, I watch out of the corner of my eyes as Wade bowls a beautiful strike. Twice. ‘You’ve known him for a long time?’ I ask.

Clyde nods and the smile on his face reminds me of a proud father watching his well-accomplished son. ‘Couldn’t bowl a lick when he came in here the first time. Don’t know why he chose bowling over anything else. But I showed him the basics, and Crittenden being who he is, it didn’t take him long. Tried to get him to bowl with a league. Thought it would be good for him – you know some social interaction. He told me …’ Clyde chuckles, ‘Well what he told me wasn’t very nice, but made it very clear that he didn’t bowl to be social.’

We both watch as he leans close and whispers something to Carla, who laughs congenially and musses his hair before rising to bowl her own strike. Clyde nods and his smile broadens considerably. ‘That one, well, she’s way better for him than any bowling league. Take the fact that he invited you along to bowl, KD. That young woman can cajole him and pester him and tease him in ways I’ve never seen anyone do. I mean even Ellis Thorne knows not to cross the line with Crittenden, and they’re best friends. But it’s like, well it’s like with Carla, there is no line.’

‘You think he’s a better person for having her in his life?’ I ask, choosing a pretty blue ball with sparkles that may actually be too light, but the way I bowl, I doubt it’ll matter much.

‘Nah,’ he says, watching Carla deal surgically with a difficult split. ‘He’s always been a good person. Might have taken her to show him that. I’ve seen a lot of teamwork here on league nights. Some teams just click, and they win even when they lose. These two, well they’re like that together. They’re a team.’

‘It’s your turn, KD,’ Wade calls over his shoulder. I return to find him sharing a package of Ding Dongs with Carla.

‘You want one?’ Carla asks. ‘I have another package.’

I take the precious gift of junk food assuring myself that though I don’t usually eat such empty calories and I don’t have the metabolism these to do, it’s a special occasion and, let’s face it, sometimes the emptier the calories, the better they taste.

bowling 1This time my bright blue ball takes a swath right out of the middle of the pins and I take a bow to the cheers from my audience of three. However I may well have taken my kudos too soon as the second attempt hits the floor with a kathunk and then promptly gutters.

‘Never mind,’ Carla says. ‘Here, eat your Ding Dongs, and you’ll feel better.’ She’s right. I do.

‘So, back to work on the photovoltaic prototype after bowling?’ I ask Wade.

He’s just bowled another strike and we both watch Carla position herself. ‘Nope. We’re heading over to Stacie’s Clear-cut after this.’

‘Oh? How’s that going, the re-planting, I mean.’

We watch Carla bowl a split with a ball that curved just slightly too much to the right at the last minute. Clyde tells me that. I would have had no clue why. Carla calls the ball a few choice names and waits at the return.

‘In spite of the planting and the careful management,’ Wade says, returning to the topic of the clear-cut, there are still problems with erosion when we get heavy rains.’ He shrugs broad shoulders. ‘We always get heavy rains here, so I’ve designed a new type of ground cover that I hope will help.’

‘And I’m coming along to take a few photos and catch the story.’ Carla says, plopping down next to Wade. ‘Something that’ll fight erosion in a place with massive rainfall is big news.’

‘Almost as big as illegal cage fighting,’ Wade says with a twitch of a smile.

She shrugs. ‘Well if the inventor of the new ground cover will traipse around on the hillside in shiny shorts and no shirt, it would be a toss-up.’

Clyde and I snigger, and Wade waves me to take the floor with a quirk of a smile.

We bowl four games, and by the end, I’ve actually managed two Ding Dongs, a bag of Doritos and a Snickers Bar. Oh, and three strikes! Well a girl needs her strength to keep up with Wade and Carla in Clyde’s bowling alley.

Wade and Carla drop me in the parking garage at the Pneuma Building. I say my good-byes and wish the two well at the clear-cut. They both give me hugs and congratulations. Before they leave, Wade turns to me and offers me a rare full smile. ‘I’m looking forward to Carla reading the next chapter of your book to me. But that’ll have to wait till tonight,’ he glances over his shoulder at Carla who is now talking to one of her fathers security men, ‘Tonight after we’re home alone. It’s the Chinese food chapter, she tells me. Not for public consumption.’ Wade Crittenden actually winks at me … around a heroic blush, then he turns, pulls Carla in close to his side and I watch the two disappear into the Dungeon entrance from the parking garage.


The Interviewing Wade Blog Tour and Giveaway Begins Tomorrow, the 23rd. For the next two weeks find Carla, Wade and me on these fabulous blogs

Mar 23   L. C. Wilkinson   http://lcwilkinson.com/ Wade_teaser

Mar 24   Jan Graham http://jangraham.blogspot.com/

Mar 25   Lynelle Clark http://lynelleclarkaspiredwriter.blogspot.com/

Mar 26   Nice Ladies, Naughty Books http://niceladiesnaughtybooks.com/

Mar 27   Love Bites & Silk Ties http://www.lovebitessilkties.co.uk/

Mar 30   Books and Banter   http://locglin.blogspot.com/

Mar 31   Case Sharidan   http://casesheridan.wordpress.com/

Apr 1   Lisabet Sarai http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com

Ap 2   Gale Stanley http://galestanley.blogspot.com/

Ap 3   Illustrious Illusions http://www.illustriousillusions.com/


Interviewing Wade is An Executive Decision novel

(Click Here for Book One | Book Two | Book Three)

The Executive Decisions Trilogy may be over, but the story continues. Intrepid reporter, Carla Flannery, wants to interview Wade Crittenden, the secretive creative genius behind Pneuma Inc. But when, against all odds, Wade actually agrees to the interview, Carla suspects ulterior motives.

Carla has made a lot of enemies in her work and when Wade discovers she’s being stalked, he agrees to the interview to keep her close and safe. As the situation turns deadly, lives and hearts are on the line, and the interview reveals far more about both than either ever expected.



‘What do you want, Carla?’ His abrupt change of subject derailed her before she could get started on her well-deserved rant. Who the hell did he think he was anyway? It was just an act of kindness, nothing more. Surely he wasn’t too stupid to see that. She watched, speechless as he hopped up and lobbed a killer ball that would have been devastating if it hadn’t guttered half way down the lane and rolled benignly the rest of the way to the soundtrack of half-hissed curses that would have hurt a sailor’s ears. She had no idea until last night that Wade Crittenden had such a colourful vocabulary. She watched his shoulders rise and fall in what she thought was the nerd’s last-ditch effort at some calming Zen. Then he took a deep breath and spoke without looking at her. ‘What do you want?’ He repeated.

Thanks to Devon’s poorly-timed call, it was far to late to sweeten him up, so she’d just have to go for it and hope for the best. She took a deep breath and said. ‘I want to interview you.’ She stuffed the notebook back into her shoulder bag, shoved it onto the seat and coming to stand by his side as he waited for the ball to return.

‘No,’ he replied, calmly taking up the ball and this time sending it waltzing right down the centre of the lane for a slo-mo strike.

‘Oh it’s not about last night. You’ve already said plenty about last night. It’s about Pneuma Inc. I’ve already interviewed Dee and Ellis.’

‘Then you don’t need to interview me. They know everything I know.’

‘Oh I got great stuff from them, but people want to know about the genius behind Pneuma Inc, the mystery man. Come on, Wade, I promise I’ll be gentle.’

She gave a little squeak of surprise as he grabbed her by the lapel of her shirt, led her unceremoniously back to the seat and pushed her gently down in it. ‘No,’ he said. Then he grabbed the ball and bowled yet another strike.

‘You’re pretty good,’ she said.

‘I’m better when no one is bothering me.’ He tapped his fingers on the ball return in a definite ‘get-lost-Carla’ rhythm.

‘Look,’ she shoved out of the seat and came to his side again. ‘You’ve been hounding me to be a good girl, to play it safe, to stay out of danger, well…’

He picked up the returned ball and took his stance, with her standing right beside him.

‘What could be safer than me interviewing the mysterious Wade Crittenden of Pneuma Inc?’ She followed on his heels bowling 3as he positioned himself, took three quick steps and let the ball go. She nearly rear-ended him at his quick stop.

He turned suddenly and she found herself cheek to chest with him. They were both breathing much harder than their little bowling waltz demanded. Then, fuck if he didn’t lift her bodily over his shoulders, carry her back to the chair and drop into it like an oversized sack of potatoes before the ball flattened all the pins. Again. With a hand on either side of the chair, trapping her there, he held her gaze, nearly nose to nose. ‘I may be a lot of things, Flannery, but I’m not safe.’ Before she could protest further, he turned and bellowed, ‘Clyde, Ms Flannery’s leaving. Show her out please. And then lock the damned door.’


Interviewing Wad is available from:

Amazon UK

Amazon US

Amazon AU

Amazon CA


Putting the Fun Back in Writing

http://www.dreamstime.com/royalty-free-stock-photos-birthday-background-party-streamers-confe-colorful-balloons-design-childrens-design-kids-image35629278If I’ve promised myself anything this year it’s that I’ll write for fun. It all started out that way, back when I was a kid and wrote my first stories. It was always fun – the writing. It was always magical to sneak away into my head and spend time with the people I made up. Things got more complicated when I began to engage with the world of publishing and, by the time I’d published my first novel, I always had an agenda. There was always at least one novel or story or novella that I was contracted to do ahead of the one I was working on at the time, most often, there were several.

Something about having a full dance card always made me feel like I was a proper writer, like I was legitimate. I never said no. Never! I felt like if I ever once turned anyone down, I’d jinx my success and no one would ever ask me to write for them again. Neurotic much???

Along with my ‘writing legitimacy’ PR, marketing and social media suddenly became essentials. I damn sure wasn’t going to let a book of mine languish after I’d gone to all the effort to write it. But how much is enough PR and marketing? How involved do I need to be in social media? Where and who and how often? And then there were readings and conferences and get-togethers with other writers and readers – all things I enjoyed, all things I tried never to miss. It’s exciting to be able to share my work with other people, and I love that part of promoting.

The thing is, at some point along the line the whole experience became wrapped up in my neuroses. It all became a taskthe scream I felt I had to do, what I thought was expected of me. It all became wrapped up my fear of what might happen if I said ‘no’, if I chose to take a break. Somewhere along the line there became more and more rules and less and less room for me to play. I’m not blaming anyone. I think this is a struggle all writers have. But once I finished writing Interviewing Wade, I decided that from now on I’d be writing a whole lot more for fun, that I’d be brave enough to experiment again, to play with words and ideas and stories again and to see where those experiments lead me.

If the writing is no longer fun, then it’s not worth the doing. Writing the story has been the passion of my life for as long as I can remember, and I feel extremely lucky to have had some success. I’ve had so many reasons to celebrate because of this writing journey. But success, any success, is a very dangerous threat to fun. After I’ve popped the Champaign corks, after I’ve celebrated with my friends, after I’ve flashed my latest baby all over Facebook and Twitter, when I’m lying in bed in the dark, that’s when I begin to doubt myself, doubt my success, doubt that I’m capable of the next step required to move forward. That’s a real joy-stealer, and one I battle every day, as I’m sure many writers do.

The joy of writing, for me, is in seeing the story unfold and in knowing that I’m the conduit through which it unfolds. Frankly there are times when it feels a whole lot like magic. The fun is in watching the characters surprise me on the written page, the power – my power – comes from the play of it far more than from the work of it. This is a fact, and one I MUST remember at all cost.

Lisabet Sarai wrote a wonderful article for Erotic Readers and Writers Association a couple of months ago called The First Time. The article is about the power of the first novel, and how many first novels became iconic in the body of an authors’ work. Even though those first novels are not the best writing the author will ever produce, even though on the level of the story and the characters they may not be the best, somehow they speak to the readers on a visceral level in ways that later, better crafted novels by that same author just can’t seem to manage. I thought about that for a long time and, as I work to restore the joy and the play in writing, I’ve come up with a possible theory as to why so many of those first novels are so powerful. I think it just might be because those first novels are often writers playing, experimenting, discovering their powers and just trying to see what they’re capable of and what fun they can have with that creative energy. One of my very favourite authors of all time, a goddess in the craft, Diana Gabaldon, says she wrote her stunning first novel, Outlander, for practice never imagining that it would be published!

Holly Final Cover ImageWhen I wrote The Initiation of Ms Holly, I wrote it totally as a romp, as a wild raucous joy ride that I absolutely played with and had fun with. At that point I had no intention of writing another erotic romance; I was experimenting. I was having fun. That was nine novels – under two pseudonyms — multiple novellas and a gazillion short stories ago. Though it’s been a fabulous ride, I’ve had to constantly remind myself that I’m a storyteller first and foremost, and I do it for the joy of it. I do it because in my heart, I know I’m not fit to do anything else.

It’s not that I no longer have fun with what I write. There are times when the pure joy of creating a world and characters and throwing them all together to see what will happen is just about as near an ecstatic experience as it’s possible to get on a keyboard. But if there is some truth in the fact that first novels are often so good because their authors are still playing with words, still revelling in the joy of the creative process, then it seems to me that as writers, anything we can do to get ourselves back to that first novel playtime sense of creativity, we most certainly need to do.

What does that mean? What does that even look like? I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that it’ll involve taking some risks, letting go of the white knuckle grip of control I’ve had on my work and my time for the past few years and seeing what happens when I’m willing to just play with it, IF I can still be willing to just play with it.

Some of that play, some of that experimentation will be coming out on my blog in the future. I learned when I wrote the serial Demon Interrupted that there were lots of ways of using my blog that were far more interesting than saying ‘here’s this book. You should read it’ – whether it’s my book or someone else’s

http://www.dreamstime.com/royalty-free-stock-image-abstract-black-white-write-pen-image24884256But if I want to connect with my readers, if they really want to know who I am, then the best thing I can do is share my words, share my creative process, share my stories. Some of you may have already guessed that I’m playing around a bit with the ‘Morphine Dreams’ and the ‘Alonso Darlington’ writings. There’ll be more playing around, and there’ll be more stories, and more experimenting. There’ll still be some ‘read my stuff’ promos and some blitzes and some really fabulous guests. But I’m reserving the right to play – on my blog as well as in the stories I write. Because play is at the centre of my creativity. It’s the place where the next story waits to unfold itself, and without that sense of fun and play what’s the point?

© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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