It’s Release Day for In The Flesh!

kdgrace-itf-finalIt’s release day for In The Flesh, and I couldn’t be happier! I just got my gorgeous author’s copies yesterday, and the good reviews are already coming in. I’m all ready to celebrate!

When I began In the Flesh as a serial on my blog, I never imagined it would grow from the short story it started its life as ten years ago to a novel. It started out as just sexy horror, but it never felt quite complete, so I thought I’d let the story tell itself. WOW! What a story it turned out to be! It evolved into a full-length novel and became a strange mix of demons, vampires, angels and Medusa – that’s right, even Medusa shows up for the fun. And why not? It is the first book of Medusa’s Consortium, after all. I didn’t see that coming either, since I’d already written the third book of The Medusa’s Consortium series, thinking it was the first.

What I discovered as I wrote it is that the characters who joined the cast throughout the novel may have come to the party uninvited, but they were always a welcome addition that made the story better and stronger and juicier as it unfolded. Those new characters and the chemistry and complications they created opened the doors to whole new possibilities and made the novel shine and sizzle in ways I could have never achieved without a little party-crashing mash-up of characters from my short novella, Landscapes, and from the third novel Buried Pleasures — and yes, it became the third novel because In The Flesh’s mash-up of party-crashers added a big fat juicy twist to the novel that absolutely guaranteed Michael, Susan and the Guardian were gonna need a sequel. That will be Blind-Sided, which I’ve already started on.

 

If you like sexy, chilling, thrilling urban fantasy/paranormal romance, then In the Flesh is right up your ally. Here’s a sneak peek, along with a little bit about the Medusa Consortium Series.

 

In The Flesh Blurb:

 

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.

  

 

EXCERPT from In The Flesh: Susan’s Secret Writings:

I wasn’t alone in the dark. I knew that the first time I entered the crypt at Chapel House. I could feel a presence there, almost as though someone stood just behind me, about to reach out and touch me. The shiver over my skin was not so much from fear, though certainly there was an element of fear, as it was from longing, bone-deep longing. I could barely breathe for it, I could barely stand under the weight of it, and I couldn’t imagine how such an ache, such a hunger could exist inside my flesh and not tear me apart. I was astonished that Annie seemed completely unaware of anything out of the ordinary, and to be quite honest, I wasn’t anxious to share it with her.

She continued to chatter on about her plans to make Chapel House over with a state of the art kitchen—she who didn’t cook, and a master suite that would rival the finest hotels in London. Strange that I could listen with one part of my brain and comment on her ideas for an open plan living space, for a library in the choir loft, for a wet room in the sacristy, while with another part of my brain I felt like every cell of my body was responding to whatever it was, whoever it was that I was certain waited there in the darkness, just beyond the beam of Annie’s Maglite.

***

The departmentalizing of Annie’s plans and the feel of the presence in the darkness became much more difficult when I felt the closeness of a warm, hard body against my back and the humid nip of a kiss on the nape of my neck. I explained away my little gasp of surprise to Annie by saying I’d almost lost my footing. I should have been frightened. I should have been terrified, and believe me, I was. But by the time I felt a large hand splayed low against my belly, by the time I was certain of the maleness pressed hard and low just above my butt, I was far more intrigued than I was frightened. Even if terror had won out, I don’t think I could have forced myself to move as the hand in the darkness migrated to cup my breasts and thumb my nipples, first one, then the other, and the slow grind and undulation from behind became more demanding.

“The roses, they smell lovely.” I managed a breathless response to Annie’s ramblings about plans for the overgrown mess of a garden. “You might want to consider a scent garden.”

She laughed. “I can’t smell anything, but then you were always the one with the sensitive nose. Of course I’ll make suregraveyard-angel-1
there are lots of roses.” She knew they were my favorite, but I couldn’t imagine her not smelling them; the scent was nearly overwhelming in the tight space of the crypt. To my surprise, as she rambled on about a patio with a Jacuzzi, the smell of roses was subsumed in my own scent and the humid, piquant scent of a man well aroused. The hand on my breast began a slow, torturous descent, and I wanted nothing more than for Annie to keep talking, keep planning, anything to keep her from dragging me away from this place, at least for a few more minutes.

I asked about the Jacuzzi, hoping that would give me another minute. By the time she got started about the sites she’d looked up online and the builders she’d talked to, I was rocking back against the hardness, craning my neck to yield as much bare skin as possible to teeth and tongue and lips all soft and warm and wet and sharp and hard and demanding. Oh,

I tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, but looking back, I wonder how the hell Annie couldn’t see? How could she have missed it? But she rattled on and on about some builder just up the road near Keswick who was supposed to be really good, some guy named Michael. Like I gave a fuck.

The study suddenly felt stuffy and overheated, and Michael’s grip on my hand convulsed. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look at me.

Magda paid little attention to either my discomfort or Michael’s. She just kept on reading.

He was cute, Annie said. That led to observations about this Michael’s broad shoulders and nice arse and speculation as to whether or not he would be any good in bed, and was it wise to seduce him before he put in her Jacuzzi or wait till after and seduce him in it. All the while I nodded and pretended to be interested.

I was thankful for the extra time, but Christ, how could she not notice me standing there, legs apart, rocking back and forth and shifting from foot to foot like I had ants in my knickers? In truth, what I wanted in my knickers surely couldn’t actually be there, and yet I felt it, fucking hell, how I felt it! I swear, I could feel muscle and sinew. Hell, I could feel the actual shape of an erection as though we were both naked, as though all he need do, this dark being who surely was just my imagination, was bend me over and open me, me struggling to keep my breathing quiet, me struggling to focus enough attention on my friend that she wouldn’t suspect I was about to come. Oh yes, I was terrified. I would have, should have, run, if I hadn’t been so intrigued, so turned on. I just wanted one more second, and then another and another.

In desperation that shocks me even now as I write this in the dark silence of Annie’s flat, I grabbed onto a wrist that I swear was as solid and warm as my own and guided the caress, the tease, the fondling of fingers and palm down my belly toward where I really needed it to be.

Annie yammered on about this Michael, all the things she’d heard about him, all the things she wanted to do to him—at least I think she did. My God, my whole body felt alive, every cell, every molecule. I could damn near feel the coursing of my own blood through my veins. You have no idea what an exhilarating combination fear and arousal make. I lost track of what Annie was saying, and the air was filled with the scent of sex. I could smell him, actually smell this phantom man, who was as near release as I was, and I was sure, as my knees gave beneath me, I felt the warm wet of his orgasm against my lower back. And then for an instant everything around me was silk and darkness, so perfect, so ecstatic. But just beyond that warm tight space, I knew. I knew as well as I know my own breath, I was terrified, and what I felt was like no terror I’d ever known before and, holy God in heaven, I want to feel it again.

And then I was shivering on my knees against the stone floor in the crypt at Chapel House.

“Susan? Susan, you’re scaring me.” Annie’s worried face invaded my field of vision before she half-blinded me with her Maglite. “Are you all right? What the hell happened?”

“Sorry, I got a little lightheaded there. Probably just blood sugar. I missed lunch,” I lied, stumbling quickly to my feet, making a quick swipe at the back of my skirt, surprised to find it was dry. Glancing over my shoulder into the narrow beam of the Maglite, I saw only the empty darkness of the crypt and the tunnel that led back to the rusted barred door. But I was certain someone was there, someone I hungered for way more than I hungered for food. And I was equally certain that I would have Him.

  

Buy In the Flesh Here

 

 

About the Medusa’s Consortium Series:

 

Contrary to popular belief, Medusa is alive and well and living a quiet life in the English Lake District. But don’t let that fool you, ever since she escaped Greece and the Olympians, Medusa/AKA Magda Gardener, has been secretly kicking ass and taking names.

 

431px-medusa_mascaron_new_york_nyMedusa may be public enemy number one with the Olympians, but in the modern world, Magda Gardener never turns away someone in need. For those she helps, those who are drawn to her, those she seeks out, life will never be the same. Like the Godfather, those who owe Magda Gardener never know when she’ll call in the debt, or what will be required of them when she does. Magda is a rescuer of monsters and demons and a thief of all things dear to the Olympians. She is irreverent, powerful, rich and has her own agenda, in which the lines between right and wrong are not always clearly drawn. Even more importantly, she and her consortium are all that stand between the modern world and a new age of Olympian tyranny. Magda Gardener is a female Nick Fury in dark glasses commanding her monsters, gods and demons version of the Avengers.

 

But what’s at the heart of the gorgon? Can she ever really heal from the rape of a god or overcome the curse of a goddess? As her consortium of powerful misfits grows into a cohesive, if rather troubled, family, it becomes more and more difficult to keep her distance from the lives of those who belong to her. Scheming to keep one step ahead of the Olympians and wreak as much havoc upon them as possible, can Medusa find redemption and possibly even love among the monsters? The Medusa’s Consortium Series is Magda Gardener’s story and the stories of those drawn to her.

 

Out Now – Coming In Hot Boxed Set! #cominginhot #PNR #paranormal #contemporary #medical #newrelease #99c

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Blurb:

Get a dose of romance, STAT!

Featuring NYT, USA Today, and Amazon bestselling authors, we’re Coming In Hot with paranormal to contemporary, and sizzling to seductive bedside manners by the doctors, nurses, paramedics, and more in this boxed set.

Paramedical meets paranormal in this steamy set filled with shifters, werewolves, vampires, and more!

Buy links:

Amazon: http://hyperurl.co/CIHPNR

Nook: http://goo.gl/d60cVx

iBooks: https://goo.gl/rpPUXW

Kobo: https://goo.gl/n212yF

ARe: https://goo.gl/k9B4ch

Don’t forget to add to your *want to read* list on Goodreads: https://goo.gl/kDTJ5L

*****

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Excerpt from On Her High Horse by Lucy Felthouse:

There was a knock at the door. Brett looked up from where he was transferring hand-written notes onto the practice’s computer system—he hadn’t yet gotten comfortable with taking the iPad out on calls. He was paranoid he’d drop it in a cow pat, or worse. “Yes, come in!”

One of the veterinary surgery’s receptionists—an efficient blonde called Natasha—sidled in, a wry expression on her face. “Hi, Brett. I’m really sorry to bother you, but there’s a woman on the phone, and she’s being, um, rather rude.”

Frowning, Brett replied, “Who is it? And why is she being rude?”

Natasha blew out a breath and shrugged. “She won’t tell me what the issue is. Won’t even tell me what animal she has. She just keeps saying she’ll only speak to a ‘trained professional.’ I don’t know who it is, either. All I know is her first name is—”

“Samantha?” Brett supplied, his shoulders slumping and eyebrows raising.

“Uh, yeah. How did you know? Oh God, I haven’t gone and insulted one of your friends or something, have I? I didn’t mean to, honestly. It’s just she’s being a bit difficult…”

“Natasha, don’t panic. She’s no friend of mine. I’ve never even met the woman. Besides, if she was one of my friends, I’d be giving her a bollocking for being rude to one of my staff, wouldn’t I? Anyway, if it’s the Samantha I think it is, then she’s being very difficult, and you’re being overly polite. Andrew warned me about her.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. Bloody typical that she’d phone while he’s away. The man barely ever takes a holiday, and now he finally has, his most awkward client is on the blower. He damn well owes me one after this.”

“If she’s a regular client, how come I’ve never spoken to her before?”

Shrugging, Brett replied, “Dunno. Maybe she’s got Andrew’s mobile number or something?”

Natasha gasped. “But he never gives out his mobile number to clients. He’s very strict about that—always asks us to take a message and if it’s urgent, pass it on to him directly.”

“Yeah…” Brett scratched his head. “He didn’t say much about her, beyond that she can be difficult. Honestly, I was a bit distracted when he mentioned it so I wasn’t paying a great deal of attention. I wish I’d asked more questions now, but I never thought I’d have the misfortune of having to deal with her.”

“You haven’t, yet.” Natasha raised her eyebrows and jerked her chin towards the phone on his desk.

“Good point.” He gave a wan smile. “Suppose I’d better find out what she wants, hadn’t I? If she’s special enough to have Andrew’s precious mobile phone number, then I ought to keep her sweet.”

“Probably wise.” Natasha left the room, closing the door behind her, but not before Brett spotted the slight smile on her face. Relieved to pass on the bitchy customer to him, no doubt.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up the phone. “Hello, Brett Coulson speaking. How can I help?”

“Oh,” came the reply, “Brett. Ah, yes. You’re the other vet, aren’t you? Jolly good. Know what you’re talking about, do you?” The woman’s accent was posh, southern. Like she’d been to a finishing school or something.

Gritting his teeth, Brett then pasted a smile on his face, hoping it would be apparent in his tone, despite the daggers he was actually staring at her through the handset. “Yes, I most certainly do.” Should fucking do, after five years of training and the same again working in the profession. I’m not on bloody work experience here.

“But you sound so young.”

Glad she couldn’t see him, Brett rolled his eyes. Her problem obviously wasn’t an emergency, the way she was waffling on, time-wasting. “I’m almost twenty-nine, Mrs…”

“It’s Ms, actually. Samantha Hanson-Bishop here. So you’re still a baby then.”

“Is there something I can help you with, Ms Hanson-Bishop? Only I’ve a call to go out on in a few minutes.” He couldn’t help the emphasis he’d put on the Ms. It could be construed as sarcastic, but it was still a damn sight more polite than anything he really wanted to say. Would she just get to the point already?

“Yes, yes, of course. That’s why I’m telephoning. I just wanted to make sure I was speaking to someone who actually knew what they were talking about. Clearly your receptionist doesn’t know anything about animals, much less my thoroughbred horses.”

Ah, okay, that made things clearer. The stuck-up, posh bird ran a stable. Now the haughty attitude made sense—she was entitled, bored, and thought she was better than everyone else. Wanting to defend Natasha—who was, in fact, very knowledgeable about animals, it being part of her job and all—Brett had to bite his tongue. If the woman, however snobby and irritating, ran a stable of thoroughbreds, then she was no doubt bringing plenty of money into the practice. They were doing okay, but the loss of a big customer without a replacement wasn’t something they’d be able to sustain for very long. And word of mouth was very important in this game—he didn’t want her bad-mouthing him or the surgery.

*****

Featuring:

NY Times Bestselling Author Izzy Szyn

USA Today Bestselling Author Josie Jax

USA Today Bestselling Author Elianne Adams

USA Today Bestselling Author Amy Lee Burgess

USA Today Bestselling, Award Winning Author L.B. Gilbert writing as Lucy Leroux

International, Award Winning, Bestselling, Author Gina Kincade

International, Award Winning, Bestselling Author Angelica Dawson

International, Award Winning, Bestselling Author Erzabet Bishop

International, Award Winning, Bestselling Author D. F. Krieger

International, Award Winning, Bestselling Author Muffy Wilson

International, Award Winning, Bestselling Author Tierney O’Malley

NY Times Bestselling Author K.N. Lee

Award Winning, Amazon Bestselling Author Lucy Felthouse

Award Winning, Amazon Bestselling Author Red L. Jameson

Award Winning, Amazon Bestselling Author Chanta Rand

Award Winning, Amazon Bestselling Author Rebekah R. Ganiere

International Bestselling Author Bethany Shaw

International Bestselling Author Elvira Bathory

Amazon Bestselling Author Penelope Silva

Amazon Bestselling Author Kathleen Grieve

Amazon Bestselling Author Xandra James

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Shameless Selfie Sunday on the Fells

img_6093You might have noticed I spend a lot of time in the Lake District — every chance I get, in fact. And while you’re reading this, I’m on my way back from another exciting walking holiday in Lakeland. Since the new Lakeland Witches Box set just went up for preorder, I thought a Lakeland selfie might be just the ticket. Tara Stone, the leader of the Elemental Coven, always walks the fells when she needs to think. Honestly, I can’t imagine a more glorious place to clear your head. Based on this Shameless Selfie from the Lansdale Pikes, wouldn’t you agree?

BUT sometimes Tara gets more than she expects from her Lakeland walks. WAY more. Enjoy this little totally shameless excerpt from the third book in the Lakeland Series, Elemental Fire.

 

 

Elemental Fire Blurb:

Obsessed with revenge, KENNET LUCIAN makes a deal with a demon, a deal he comes to regret when he meets TARA STONE, head of the Elemental Coven, and a powerful witch with a desire for revenge at least as great as his. Even though the attraction between the two is magnetic and the lust combustive, Kennet must betray her to accomplish his goal, which is ultimately her goal as well; to put a final end to the demon, Deacon’s, reign of terror. But can Tara trust the man who has wormed his way into her heart and the heart of the Elemental Coven? Can she trust LUCIA, the demon with whom Kennet is allied, a demon with her own agenda. The path to Deacon’s destruction is far from clear, and the price that must be paid to be free of him forever may be too high, even for Tara Stone.

 

Excerpt: Encounter on the Fells:

 

She picked up the pace as she began her ascent, feeling the sweat break under her arms and low on her back. Then she picked up the pace again. Exhaustion was what she wanted, what she needed. She concentrated on her footing, navigating the loose rock of the ascent around Netting Haws, and that was a good thing. Right now, she’d do anything to keep her mind off Anderson’s loss and off the dream she couldn’t get rid of, even with Deacon in captivity.

By the time she reached the ridge between Maiden Moor and High Spy and followed it on to High Spy, she was hungry. She found a place on the moss just below the summit looking out over the broad, hulking shoulders of Dale Head and Hindscarth, separated from her by the deep abyss where Newlands Beck drained into the Newlands Valley far below. There she settled down, ate Fiori’s cookies, drank some water and lay back to look at the night sky. She hadn’t intended to fall asleep.

This time the dream was warm and sexy, and she found herself in a deep cave. She felt safe and comfortable. No one lakeland-witches-3-efcould touch her here. This was her domain. Caves were always her safe place, and they so often elicited a Pavlovian effect on her body. Caves were the place of powerful dream magic. Caves were the place where she always felt sexy by association. And even now, even in the Dream World, she felt deeply aroused, more so than she had since Anderson had been lost to her.

She undid her blouse and slid her hand inside to caress her breasts. It felt like for ever since she’d had a good fuck, and Goddess, she ached for her loss. As one hand tugged at her burgeoning nipples, the other worried open the fly of her walking trousers and slid down onto her mons. She’d left Elemental Cottage in a hurry, so there was no underwear to contend with. She stroked her soft curls for a few minutes, teasing, anticipating, her hips shifting and undulating against the ground. Then, when she could take it no longer, she slid two fingers deep into the gape of her pussy, wriggling and manoeuvring to where she was hottest and wettest. Just one stroke of her clit and she came in shudders and jerks. She hadn’t realised she’d been that desperate for relief. But she had been distracted lately.

It was then she noticed the exquisite woman with long golden hair sitting so close that her knees practically touched Tara’s ribs. It came as no surprise to her, though surely it should have, but then this was a dream, wasn’t it? The woman’s robe pooled around her and ebbed and flowed like fire.

‘You feel better now, do you not, my darling Tara?’ she asked. Her voice made Tara feel like she was melting into warm, delicious nothingness and seeping into the cave floor.

Tara nodded and moaned softly, for some reason unable to speak, for some reason just wanting to remain in the presence of this woman, whoever she was. It brushed her consciousness fleetingly that maybe she should be concerned about the strange woman in her dreams, but the thought passed quickly, and she lay quietly next to her.

‘Good,’ the woman said, stroking Tara’s hair away from her forehead. ‘I need you to feel better. All of us need you to feel better. We have work to do, and we cannot do it when you are mourning your losses.’ She nodded. ‘Yes, of course I know about your Anderson. And I know that you do not fuck the living. Such a foolish girl you are to deny yourself the very pleasure you so willingly offer the dead. Elemental Cottage is not a nunnery, my darling.’

She leaned down low and kissed Tara on the mouth. Her breath smelled like the fells in high summer. Then she tisk- tisked and gently stroked Tara’s pubic curls. ‘You need more than you can manage with your hand, my sweet girl, no matter how gifted you are in the arts of pleasure. You practise sex magic, surely you know this?’ She brushed slender fingers up Tara’s belly and over the mounds of her breasts. Tara arched up into her heated caresses. ‘Shall I bring you just what you need to make you feel better? Would you like that, my dear?’

Tara could only whimper and nod.

Once again she brushed Tara’s lips with hers, adding the slightest flick of her tongue, and for an instant the kiss felt predatory, devouring. Or had Tara only imagined it? ‘Do not worry, my love,’ the woman said as she pulled away. ‘I shall send you just what you need. Wait here, and rest a little.’ Then she disappeared leaving Tara to writhe and moan on the floor of the cave.

From far away someone shook her arm, someone called to her in distressed tones, trying to bring her back to the Waking World. But she didn’t want to go back. It was safe and warm and happy here. There was nothing but sadness in the Waking World. She just wanted to sleep here in the cave and wait for whoever the beautiful woman would bring to her.

But the shaking and jostling continued. She slapped the hand away, but it kept coming back to shake her. She was just ready to tell whoever it was to bugger off, when she opened her eyes and looked up to see the outline of a man leaning over her. Even in the darkness, the energy emanating from him was magnetic. Everything inside her tightened with anticipation, and Goddess, she wanted him. Surely she was still dreaming.

‘Are you all right?’ His voice vibrated through her chest and his touch felt electric, full of magic. ‘I thought you were dead, then I heard you moaning. I guess you were dreaming. I was worried and then …’

They both realised at the same time that her shirt was open and so were her trousers, and one hand still rested on her mons. She could feel the man’s gaze taking in the situation, and he twigged. ‘Oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. I thought you were –’

‘I was! Dreaming, I mean.’ She quickly jerked her hand out of her trousers and tugged her open blouse across her bare breasts. ‘I was dreaming, and she said she’d send someone and …’ She blinked hard and looked around at the night sky. She couldn’t have been asleep long, but everything felt unreal, different. Was she still dreaming? Dreams could be so powerful at times, so confusing. She reached up to touch his face and felt a surge of magic – some new, some old. Some very old. Had she enfleshed a ghost because of her horny dream? When she walked at night, ghosts did sometimes follow her onto the fells in hopes that she would enflesh them and allow them to experience for a little while the pleasures afforded the living. And any other time she would happily oblige. But when she walked at night, she always sent them away. This was her place, her alone time. No one was welcome to disturb her here, and most ghosts knew that. Had she been that out of it? Was she that desperate for a fuck that her unconscious had broken her own rules?’

The man sat back on his haunches and looked down at her. In the darkness she could only make out his silhouette dominated by broad shoulders, but it was enough to make her own arousal spike. Certainly if she had enfleshed him, she couldn’t leave him in the state he was now, no doubt, in because of her.

He gave a little gasp of surprise when she off-balanced him, pulled him down to her and kissed him. ‘You shouldn’t have come here,’ she managed before she drew him into another kiss.

‘I might say the same about you,’ he replied.

Cheeky ghost, she thought, but she kissed him again. This time he returned the favour. And the power surge she felt went clear from her mouth down to the base of her spine and back again. His eyes fluttered, he gasped against her mouth, clearly feeling what she felt, and there was no disguising the press of his heavy erection against the fly of his walking trousers.

‘What the hell was that?’ She gasped, not entirely sure she wasn’t going to come just from their last kiss.

He pulled back from her with a start, one hand against his lips and the other resting low on his belly. ‘If you do that again, I can’t guarantee what will … If you do that again.’

For a tightly stretched second, they froze in each other’s gaze. Then she forced words up through her throat, struggling to breathe through her arousal. ‘I can’t … I need …’

‘Me too,’ he whispered. She couldn’t see the colour of his eyes in the darkness, but his gaze was baking hot against her.

Focus. Damn it, she needed to be able to focus, to think. She forced a deep breath and then they were both speaking at the same time.

‘I’m sorry … I didn’t … I wouldn’t …’

‘I don’t know what just happened,’ he gasped.

‘Me neither,’ she managed.

Then they were on each other. He yanked the clasp from her hair and clawed it free from the ponytail. She curled her fingers in the front of his shirt and pulled him on top of her, down between her open legs, lifting her hips, wrapping her ankles around his waist and thrusting up to meet him. The sounds coming from his throat were deep-chested, wild, and she wasn’t sure where his grunts and growls left off and hers began as he thrust and ground against her, shoving her arse into the soft moss with his efforts.

lakeland-witch-boxset-pre‘I need to get to you,’ he gasped, pulling away from her, tugging and fumbling at her trousers until they were down over her hips.

She toed one of her boots off and kicked it aside, and he lifted her leg free of the trousers while she pulled open his fly and slid her hand into his boxers until she could wrap her fingers around his heavy cock.

He gasped and pushed them away. ‘Don’t do that. I’ll come in your hand and I don’t want to come there.’ He trapped both her wrists above her head with a large hand while he nuzzled his way into her shirt and battled with his trousers until his butt was bare. Then he released her hands and kissed his way down her belly, shoving her legs further apart as he went, lowering his face, biting the inside of her left thigh just below the swell of her pussy. She yelped and drenched herself. He fingered her open and ran his tongue up from her perineum all the way to her clit and bit again. And she came, bellowing her orgasm into the cool night air.

‘I want you in me, I want you in me,’ she gasped, even before she could breathe again, even before the waves inside her had dissipated.

He positioned himself and pushed into her deep and hard and they both growled like angry wolves. She grabbed his

arse cheeks in an effort to pull him still deeper into her. He dug into the moss with his feet, shoved up onto his knees and lifted her until her shoulders rested in the moss and her hips were in the air, knees pressing upward against her breasts. Then he rolled with her and pulled her on top of him. With one trembling hand he shoved her blouse off her shoulders and her breasts bounced freely into his cupping fingers. With the other hand he expertly found her clit and, resting the flat of his palm on her mound, he stroked and rubbed with the pad of his thumb.

One wave of orgasm collapsed in on the next, like the waves breaking against the cliffs at St Bee’s Head. Then both of his hands settled to her hips and he thrust up, nearly bucking her off in his efforts to penetrate still deeper. His grip on her hips was bruising, and she slammed against him harder and harder with each thrust, emotions surged – emotions that she didn’t want to feel, emotions that she did want to feel, emotions that she had wanted to feel from the time she was a little girl. And somewhere in the midst of their thrusting and pushing, she realised that not all of the emotions were hers. But she couldn’t think, she couldn’t concentrate on anything but the in and out, push and shove, like a mantra, like a spell being woven in rhythm, in repetition, in sync. And then they both came, screaming and raging and rolling in the moss until he was once again on top of her, his weight feeling like the weight of the world, and yet at the same time feeling like a blanket protecting her from the depths of her own pain. How could this be? How could she ever experience anything like this with some strange horny ghost on the fells?

She found herself with a million questions, and yet by the time she caught her breath, she was fast asleep. To her total surprise, he had crossed the dream threshold and they were chasing the dream together.

 

Preorder the Lakeland Witches Box Set Here:

 

Amazon UK

Amazon US

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What’s so Cool about Writing Sex?

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To answer that question, I would like to just point you back to my motto — I totally believe Freud was right. It really IS all about sex. And as a writer of erotica and erotic romance, no one is happier about it than I. Since sex touches every part of our life, since it is so multifaceted, since it intrigues and us and enthrals us as nothing else does, why wouldn’t it be fun to write about?
Originally I started writing erotica because I could write it well and it was something I could sell. Yup! I admit. I was a bit mercenary. At first. Now I can’t imagine a story without sex in it because sex is the quickest way to give my readers aScribe-computer-keyboardMG_07771-225x300 deeper understanding of my characters and to add a little chaos and up the stakes of a good pacy novel.
But here’s my little secret: I wrote erotica secretly long before I published any of it. Yup! I think of writing erotica as a sex toy on steroids. Nothing is hotter, nothing can push all the right buttons — reader of writer — nothing can get you there quite like the written, filthy word straight from your dirty little mind. That’s because no on knows what turns you on like you do, and no one knows what fantasies you have, but you. Write them and squirm! Write them and giggle! Write them and sizzle! But once you start writing it, you’ll quickly discover there’s a lot more to it than the ole in and out. Writing erotica is a creative process, an art form in itself. Writing erotica is a sexy way of telling a story.
If you ever thought you’d like to tell a sexy story, maybe write it down to share with someone special over candle light and fizz, or maybe write it and send it off to a publisher, this is your chance. Kay Jaybee and I will talk you through the essentials with plenty of hands-on experience. …er I mean WRITING experience, you naughty lot! There! You see, you’re already in the right frame of mind. Come join the fun. (You see what I did there)

Follow the links below for details on how you can join the fun.

 

 


Kay Jaybee
 and I are very happy to announce that we’ll be joint-teaching an Essential Elements of Erotic Writing 13442263_1220482214628479_1390160962256925281_nWorkshop in London at Sh! Women’s Store on the 23rd 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
internal editor and get down to writing the good stuff in a nasty, fun way.

 

The cost is £20 per person and there are still a few spaces available, so be sure and sign up as soon as possible. (This workshop is open toSh!logoboth sexes.) Follow the link for details and come join us prepared to write!

 

The Lakeland Witches Box Set Available for Preorder!

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I’m very pleased to announce that, at last, the entire Lakeland Witches Series is coming out in a box set. AND! You can preorder yours now!

One giant chilling, sizzling, dark and lusty binge read available now for preorder. In your hot little eReader release 29th October. A seriously sweet, seriously hot Halloween Treat.

 

When the mist descends on the high fells of the English Lake District, danger lurks. Demons, witches, ghosts and more gravitate to the powerful Elemental Coven – some as friends and allies, some as deadly enemies. The battle in the mist is a battle for power and love and lust, but most of all, for Tara Stone and the Lakeland Witches, it’s a battle for survival.

 

Sex is magic for the Elemental Coven — powerful magic. But will it be enough to defeat the hate-driven demon determined to destroy them with the very magic of their own lust?

 

*****

“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

 

*****

“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

*****

 

Lakeland Witches Excerpt from Elemental Fire:

‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’

She raised one golden eyebrow and turned to face him. ‘I am not your friend, Kennet Birch, and even if I were, I hardly see how an alliance with you would help my cause.’

‘Of course you see. Together we can defeat him.’

She absently plucked a blood-red rose from a bush that climbed tenaciously on a stone wall, sniffed it and studied it as though she had never seen anything like it. ‘I fail to see how you could possibly be of help.’

‘I could give you flesh.’ The words were out before he could stop them, and his heart nearly exploded from his chest as lakeland-witch-boxsetshe crushed the rose, raised an arm in a flourish that was almost like a flash of lightning, and they were once again back in the cave.

She stood close to him, so close that he could feel her breath coming fast and furious against his face. Her eyes were fire, her presence made him feel as though every fibre of himself were being shredded and being unmade even as he breathed. ‘You are beyond brazen, Kennet Birch, to offer such a thing, as if I would want to walk among humans again, as if I would want to take up residence in their weakness and need.’

‘But you do,’ he found the courage to whisper, not even loud enough for her to hear, and yet she heard. He was certain she heard the very movement of his blood in his veins. ‘You do want to take up residence in our weakness and our need. That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? And that’s the only way you’ll ever be on an equal footing with him.’

She studied him for what might have been ages, and he felt as though the pressure of her scrutiny would crush him.

‘I have never worn man flesh.’ She nodded down to his penis.

He blushed and surged and blushed again. His heart raced. ‘Does it make a difference?’

She shrugged, still studying his cock as though she’d never seen one before. ‘Not really. Flesh is flesh.’ On a whim, she reached out and stroked his erection, and he gasped as the touch of her shivered up his spine and blossomed bright inside his head.

She continued to touch him, but her eyes were now locked on his face, and he tried desperately not to thrust against her. ‘I am only touching your cock, Kennet Birch, and it is all you can do to keep from spilling your seed at my feet.’

‘That is the most sensitive part,’ he breathed. ‘Of a man, I mean.’

She moved closer and ran a splayed hand up over his ribs. And he did spill his seed with a desperate gasp as though he could never get enough oxygen again. And he was embarrassed and terrified and angry, and it was as though the whole range of emotions exploded in his head in an instant. Then she leaned in and brushed her lips against his, and for a split second the world flashed before his eyes more vivid, more perfect, more complete than he had ever seen it before. He knew things, he saw things, he felt things, things beyond him. And he would have dropped again to his knees, but he couldn’t, not held in her gaze as he was.

‘I have barely touched you and you are overwhelmed, Kennet Birch. Do you really think you can survive my possession of you?’

He forced himself to hold her gaze, trembling suddenly as though he were in the grip of some powerful illness. All of him ached, and he knew the real world was bleeding through. There was very little time. ‘I won’t survive if you don’t possess me. My coming to you has guaranteed that.’ He wrapped his arms around himself as the shakes became more violent. ‘You said it yourself, I have nothing to lose.’

‘And why would I want a sick and broken male body?’ She asked. Her eyes blazed in the dance of firelight that always seemed so close to her.

‘If you possess me, you can heal me,’ he said. ‘And anyway, if you possess me and I die – well, it really doesn’t matter at this point.’

For an eternal moment she studied him. She studied him until he looked away. His head was fuzzy, his body ached even in the dream world. He couldn’t hold on much longer.

She lifted his chin once again so that he met her gaze, and the shakes stopped. The pain went away. He felt his head clear.

‘If I do what you ask of me, even though you live, your life is forfeit. You know this?’

‘I know,’ he breathed. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘You say that now in your hour of need. But when that passes, when you are whole and stronger and healthier than you have ever dreamed possible, when your heart heals and you learn to love again, you will not be so anxious to let go of what is rightfully mine when the time comes.’

He suddenly felt more pain than he knew existed in the whole world, and none of it was physical. He inhaled breath that felt like shards of stone. ‘I’ll never know love again. I’ll never know life again, so there’s really nothing you can take from me that isn’t already long gone.’

Her gaze softened, and somehow he found that infinitely comforting. Then she moved closer and kissed him, slowly, languidly, as though they had all the time in the world, and his cock was hard again. She stepped back from him. One shrug and the robe of fire fell away, and the glow of her body flashed bright, then dimmed and steadied until he could see details, erect nipples atop high breasts, rounded hips, a golden splash of curls at the juncture of her thighs.

‘I am not like him,’ she said softly. ‘It gives me no pleasure to make those who dwell in the flesh my puppets. You will be, how is it you put it these days, you will be in the driver’s seat.’

She took him into her arms and kissed him hard, and when he feared he would disgrace himself again with his cock pressed up tight against the top of her belly, she pulled away. ‘However,’ she said. ‘If I grant your request, then I will possess you. All of you. You will belong to me, your life will be mine.’ Her gaze was painfully bright. ‘And if you earnestly wish to be rid of Deacon, then you will do as I say for as long as it takes us to accomplish our task, and it will take time. I know him. You do not. I’m his equal. You are not. And one more very important thing, Kennet Birch.’ She stroked his hair gently and whispered against his lips. ‘Never, never forget how badly I can hurt you if you defy me.’ Then she guided his hand down over her pubic curls. ‘If my terms are not acceptable to you, then you must return to your body and face your fate.’

Boldly, brazenly, he slid a finger down low and circled her clit, and her eyes fluttered. ‘If it weren’t acceptable to me, I wouldn’t be here,’ he answered.

She took his hand and guided him back to a chair that appeared from out of nowhere. It looked like a golden throne with no arms. What? Was he to petition her? He didn’t understand. But it was no throne at all. She pushed him down on it and stood before him caressing her breasts until her nipples were stiff and swollen. Then she raised one perfect leg and set her elegant Botticelli foot on his thigh, affording him a view of her wet and fiery depths. ‘I do not enter through your breath, Kennet Birch,’ she said. ‘As sex is your magic, so is it mine. You will go in through me, inside out. And your hunger for me will pull me into you when your libido surges brightest.’

And he was so hungry for her. She filled his head and his body with an aching want that even if he were not a practitioner of sex magic, he would understand was not mundane. And in his case, the fear that he would die if he didn’t have her here and now was a very real one. That he might die even if he did, that her possession might be too much for him – well, that was a risk he was more than willing to take.

‘Are you certain this is what you want, Kennet Birch?’ she asked him as she moved onto his lap, positioning herself, opening her sex with her fingers.

‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.’ Even as he said it, he realised how silly that sounded, since either way his life as he’d known it was over.

‘Very well, then.’ She settled to the point of contact, to the point at which he could just feel the head of his penis against the resistance of her opening. He reached for her breasts, and with the hand not busy between her legs, she cradled his head and drew him near so he could nurse. The electrical shock through his body caused him to jump and jerk, and at that very instant she settled onto him, sheathing him tightly, deeply, and he knew he was dying. This was the point of no return. It was as though the tight wet pull of her swallowed him whole. Then she cupped his chin and held his face again so he couldn’t look away from her shining eyes. Her voice was like warm honey, thick and sweet, and he felt the sound of it in his very marrow, in his very soul. ‘You are mine, Kennet Birch. No longer are you your own. I possess you, body, soul and life force. Even in name you are now mine, Kennet Lucian. You are mine until I have no further use for you, until I have used you up.’ She gripped him hard and he exploded inside her and the world blew apart into tiny particles and disappeared like flecks of dust in the darkness.

***

‘Bloody Hell! Dr Allen! Dr Allen! Get over here. Now!’

Kennet inhaled delicious, abundant air as though he’d just remembered how to breathe. Then he fought his way up from under an unruly sheet to sit up on the bed. A woman and a man in hospital scrubs stood on either side of him, holding him, and there was chaos and someone was yelling. It took him a second to register that it was him yelling over and over again, ‘Where the hell am I? Where the hell am I?’ And then the bright lights, the gurney with a body shrouded in a sheet next to him all came into focus. ‘Jesus! What the fuck am I doing in the morgue?’

The woman in scrubs standing next to him looked pale and her hands were unsteady. ‘Mr Birch,’ she said, doing her best to stay calm. ‘You were pronounced dead almost 15 minutes ago.’

Preorder the Lakeland Witches Box Set Here:

Amazon UK

Amazon US

 

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The Lakeland Witches Series:

Body Temperature and Rising Book: 1 of the Lakeland Witches Series

 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.

 

Riding the Ether: Book 2 of the Lakeland Witches Series

 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?

 

Elemental Fire: Book 3 of the Lakeland Witches Series

 Obsessed with revenge, KENNET LUCIAN makes a deal with a demon, a deal he comes to regret when he meets TARA STONE, head of the Elemental Coven, and a powerful witch with a desire for revenge at least as great as his. Even though the attraction between the two is magnetic and the lust combustive, Kennet must betray her to accomplish his goal, which is ultimately her goal as well; to put a final end to the demon, Deacon’s, reign of terror. But can Tara trust the man who has wormed his way into her heart and the heart of the Elemental Coven? Can she trust LUCIA, the demon with whom Kennet is allied, a demon with her own agenda. The path to Deacon’s destruction is far from clear, and the price that must be paid to be free of him forever may be too high, even for Tara Stone.

 

Demon Interrupted: Book 4 of the Lakeland Witches Series

What secrets does a man have that would cause him to chooses to live under a spell that magically erased his past? When that spell is broken Ferris Ryder must choose to remember all that he was, all that he has done and all that drove him to willingly forget. If he chooses not to remember, the consequences will be dire for himself and the Elemental Coven, who are now his family.

Is the mysterious Elaine, who both fears and desires Ferris, a ghost with a past all her own, or merely a figment of his fevered dreams as he struggles against time to remember the past he fears or destroy the very people for whom he chose to forget.

 

 
© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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