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Surrogates is FREE in the UK! Sizzling Garden Porn Just in Time for Summer

surrogatesTis the season for …. You guessed it! Garden Porn! And what could possibly be better than a FREE smutty romp in a steamy garden! I’m very excited to announce that my petite novel, Surrogates, is now FREE on Amazon UK! Not yet on Amazon US, but hopefully VERY soon! Now’s your chance to appreciate a very hot UK summer with Francie, Simon and Dan as they have their voyeuristic, masturbatory, naughty, unusual threesome all around the gorgeous grounds and gardens of Dan’s palatial estate.

While I’m spending my time in the veg beds, you can curl up with a cool drink and a raunchy read as you find out why Francie has way more fun in her veg patch than even a picnic in the allotment will allow. It’s sex al fresco with lots of sexy, sizzling, twists and turns. To whet your appetite for a little filthy fun in the garden, here’s an excerpt along with links. US folks, I’m doing my best to see why the delay for you, but will shout it out loudly when Surrogates goes free for you too!

Blurb:

DANIEL ALEXANDER III takes his marriage vows seriously. Until he gets the balls to ask his wife, BEL, for a divorce, watching each other masturbate is all he can offer his beautiful gardener, FRANCIE CARTER. But when Dan’s friend, SIMON PARIS, agrees to be his surrogate, affairs of the heart get complicated.

Excerpt

Dan groaned. ‘It’s all such a mess. I wasn’t lying when I said Francie’s not my mistress. Well she’s not my mistress in a physical sense. I’m faithful to my wife. We, Francie and I, only ever masturbate together.’

Simon couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter, but the look Dan shot back stopped him mid-guffaw.

‘I know what you think, and I know how utterly ridiculous that sounds, but I swear to you it’s true. I’m crazy about the woman, but I pledged my trough to Bel.

‘You what?’

‘I made a promise, and I’ll not break it. I’ll stay faithful to Bel until I get the balls to ask her for a divorce. I’ll not be like my father was.’

Simon studied Dan for a minute as they walked. ‘And Francie’s OK with this.’

‘Of course she’s not OK with it. That’s the problem.’

‘Then, just ask Bel for a divorce,’ Simon said.

‘Oh I will, I will. It’s just now’s a difficult time. I’ve got so much on my mind. And Bel’s going through some difficult times too, and I just can’t do it right Villa d'este 2imagesnow. It wouldn’t be right.’ He chuckled softly and shot Simon a sideways glance. ‘Remember at Tivoli, when you caught me with Gabriella, and we asked you to join us.’

Simon smiled. ‘It’s like deja vu all over again, only you two weren’t exactly having a wank, as I recall. One of the regrets of my youth, not joining your little party. Had a few good wanks thinking about it though.’

It took Simon a second to realize Dan had stopped walking. He stood in knee high grass, his brow drawn tight in deep concentration.

‘Maybe this time we need to turn the tables.’ Dan stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘You know, alter the equation just slightly.’

Dan began to walk again, slowly. ‘What if Francie and I invited you to join us?’

‘What?’

‘Only this time I’d be the one having a wank. Oh I’d be telling you what to do to her and all, or she’d be asking you, but think about it, Simon, how she must feel. She knows I still have sex with Bel. Granted, not very often, but I do my husbandly duty when she asks me.’

‘Your husbandly duty. Right.’

‘My point is that I get at least some sex because Bel is my wife, and I’m faithful to her. But poor Francie’s faithful to me. She doesn’t get anything but a wank, and she has to provide that for herself. I can’t even touch her, Simon, because I’m afraid once I do I won’t be able to stop myself. But if you, as my old and trusted friend, were to make love to her for me, you know be my surrogate, then Francie could get some satisfaction too, and maybe…’

‘You want me to fuck your mistress for you?’

Get Surrogates FREE Now

Amazon UK

Reviews

“Full of quirky characters, kinky sex, unusual settings and clever writing, Surrogates is definitely an erotic romance novella I’d recommend if you’re looking for something a little different.” Erotica For All

*****

“This was an exciting and sexy read at the turn of every page, with a storyline that was so original it was brilliant. If you want a fun, fast read with great character flow and connection and hot sex on almost every page this is for you.” Midnight Boudoir

*****

“Surrogates is the perfect novel for any erotica reader out there… hot, sexy, sensual… it definitely defines erotica it in it’s own right. K.D Grace is one amazing author whose novels simply should be devoured!” A Redheads Guilty Reads

*****
“There are plenty of hot hot sex scenes and a case of mistaken identity and misunderstandings. It is a fun and quick read. Overall, very well written. The characters come alive on the pages and they feel real. I recommend it to anyone who likes short, erotic tales and who aren’t put off by some f/f action and threesomes.” Hearts on Fire Reviews

*****

“Surrogates is full of tongue in cheek comedy, and has just the right amount of erotica to fill readers minds with accounts of how both Daniel and Bel get their orgasms. This is a voyeur’s version of heaven.” 5 out of 5, Love Romance Passion

 

 

Filthy Fun Al Fresco, in which All Goes Swimmingly

In honour of the summer we almost had this year in Britain, here’s the second installment to my filthy fun al fresco extravaganza, K D style. The great outdoors has always inspired me to write all manner of naughtiness. And nothing is more deliciously naughty in the summer heat that a little skinny dipping, especially when it’s done with just the right companion. This hot little excerpt is from my Mischief novella, Surrogates. Enjoy the heat.  And the wet.

Blurb:

DANIEL ALEXANDER III takes his marriage vows seriously. Until he gets the balls to ask his wife, BEL, for a divorce, watching each other masturbate is all he can offer his beautiful gardener, FRANCIE CARTER. But when Dan’s friend, SIMON PARIS, agrees to be his surrogate, affairs of the heart get complicated.

Excerpt:

Simon yanked his mobile from his pocket, and Francie came to his side. ‘Is it from Dan?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘He’s not coming.’

‘What do you mean, he’s not coming?’ Francie grabbed the phone away from him and read:

            Must cancel. Have an emergency meeting. Will make it up to you.

She handed the phone back to Simon and sat rigid on the edge of the love seat. He could see her pulse hammering in her neck. He could see the rise and fall of her throat as she swallowed hard. But there were no tears.

‘I should go then,’ he said softly.

She didn’t reply, only sat there without looking at him.

‘I can’t make it tomorrow. I’m in Guildford all day.’ He could smell her, like he could smell lavender in a garden at high summer long before he could see it. The smell of her sex he had memorized from the very first time he held her in his arms, but the rest of her scent had unfolded itself to him more slowly. The smell of outdoors was always on her, the smell of earth, the smell of clean female sweat. All of it, the whole of her, the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed, the cadence of her breath, the heat radiating from her body, all of those things, settled around him tight-fitting and raw. ‘I need to go,’ he said again, resting a hand on the curve of her shoulder.

‘No you don’t. You don’t need to go.’ She shrugged off his hand, popped up off the love seat and headed out the door of the summer house at a fast trot, leaving her garden shoes behind.

Still barefoot himself, he followed her across the warm grass out past the rose garden, down over the hill into the mini wilderness that would become the Renaissance garden, and down to the deep pool at the edge of the stream. She undid the tie at the side of her dress and shrugged it off without breaking pace, stepping out of her thong and giving it a toss before she moved into the calm deep of the water, then dived under. For the tiniest fraction of a second, he feared she might mean herself harm. But she surfaced before he could even get his T-shirt off. She floated with her head back and the tips of her nipples breaking the surface. ‘Well?’ she called out. ‘Are you coming or not? You can swim, can’t you?’

‘Of course I can swim.’ He stripped off and stepped into the bright glare of the water. He was already erect, and her watching him did nothing to ease the pressure. ‘You know what’ll happen if I catch you?’ he said, nodding down to his cock.

She swam towards him in an easy crawl stroke. ‘You’re assuming you’ll have to catch me,’ she said, and then she dove. It wasn’t until he felt a tug on his hips and her mouth tightening around his cock that he figured out what she was up to.

‘Jesus,’ he gasped as she cupped and gently squeezed his balls. His feet were just barely touching ground. She seemed to be slowly pulling him with the nips and tugs of her mouth deeper and deeper until he had to tread water to keep his head from going under, careful not to kick her as he did so. And still she didn’t surface.

‘Francie,’ he grunted. ‘Francie don’t stay down too long.’ But fuck, it felt so good, it felt so dangerously out of control as she sucked his cock then cupped his buttocks, then fingered his anus. Damn it! He wanted to bear down, he wanted to thrust, but the water held him in precarious weightlessness, and still she sucked and fondled. ‘Oh God, Francie! Good Christ, Francie please.’

One finger was buried knuckle-deep in his arsehole while the other hand kneaded his balls right on the border between pain and pleasure. And her mouth! Fuck, her mouth had him gripped and sucked in a tight wet paradise with her tongue flicking over the underside of his cock, and still she didn’t surface.

‘Francie… Francie enough!’ He grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her up. She surfaced enough to take a deep drag of air then she took his mouth, pulling him under in the process. And she held him there, her mouth on his, tongue darting, teeth nipping, gulping at him, and he gulped back even as his lungs cried out for oxygen. And just when he thought he’d have to manhandle her into shallow waters, she gave a powerful kick, moved into position, wrapped her legs around him, and his cock slipped into her tight grip just as his feet touched solid ground and the water broke over their heads. Oxygen raced back into starving lungs, taken in through their noses as they continued to eat and lap and nip at each other’s mouths. He took her face in his hands and pulled her away enough that he could look into her eyes. ‘Jesus, Francie, you scared me. I thought we were drowning.’

‘We are, Simon,’ she said, biting his lower lip then tightening her grip around his waist and matching his thrust. ‘We are drowning.’ He could tell by the tremors that began around his cock and shivered up her spine that she was coming. Her grip was far too tight and demanding for him not to follow suite.

They crawled to the grass at the edge of the stream, collapsed into each other’s arms and fell asleep. When he woke up, the sun was setting and she was gone. He went to her cottage and knocked, but her car was gone and the place was dark and silent. There was nothing to do but go home and hope that he hadn’t ruined everything. But then it was hardly his fault, was it? He really did try to practice some restraint. Somehow that didn’t make him feel any better.

Amazon UK
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Mischief

 

 

Surrogates, Garden Porn and Inspiration

First of all, let me just do a little happy dance while I tell any of you out there who haven’t already heard me shouting about it (the ones who might have been in internet-deprived Outer Mongolia or just waking up from a coma) My new novella, Surrogates, is out! Rock on, garden porn! … er … should that be compost on, garden porn???

Garden porn! Ah yes, my favourite erotic topic. I’ve talked about the pleasure of getting my hands dirty before, and I’ve even discussed the many innovative uses for veg and garden implements. Surrogates is nothing if not creative with both. For those of you who don’t know what a dibber is, look it up, and I’m sure you can see where I’m heading – gently of course, gently!

My heroine, Francie Carter, is a master gardener who specialises in veg, or kitchen gardens, and she makes her living restoring walled kitchen gardens on large estates. You guessed it, Francie’s garden is a veg gardener’s wet dream come true. It’s a huge plot of postage stamp beds with grass paths in between. It comes with fruit trees, succulent beds of soft fruit, a large, heated, well-equipped greenhouse and  a state of the art staging area. All of that luscious yumminess is shielded and protected by a restored medieval wall. The garden Francie tends, on the estate of her kinky, neurotic lover, Daniel Alexander III, is my dream garden. Bet that comes as no surprise.

While I was writing Surrogates for Mischief Books and fantasising all the hot sex that would take place in the hot gardens, my husband and I were on the waiting list for an allotment. We had been on that waiting list for three long years and counting. Allotments, I figured, are about as close to a walled medieval garden on an opulent estate as I’m ever likely to get. Though, to be honest, after three years of waiting, I was beginning to wonder if my chances might be better with an opulent estate.

Just a week before Surrogates was released, we became the proud holders of a prime piece of allotment real estate, and suddenly our veg growing capacity went from whatever we could squeeze into our small back garden to a plot bigger than the whole property our house is on! Of course, like most allotments, the whole property is fenced in. Okay, it’s not a medieval stone wall, but it’s close enough for me. Though we don’t have a huge greenhouse like the one in which Francie partakes of some seriously hot sex with her two men, we have inherited a little blue garden shed, which I find very inspiring, indeed!

Unlike Francie, I’m no expert. I’m just a hobbyist, a hobbyist whose hobby suddenly got a whole lot more serious. My husband reckons we have about a half an acre! A half an acre, a little blue garden shed, a huge compost heap, and several kinds of mouth-watering soft fruit already planted. Be still my heart! It isn’t just that I’ll finally have space for lots of sweet corn and lots of peas, or that I’ll finally be able to put in that asparagus bed I’ve always dreamed of, but it’s the inspiration of it all. Even stories that are totally free of garden porn bubble up from the deep, filthy, romantic part of my unconscious when my hands are in the earth and I’m growing things to eat. A whole half acre of inspiration! AND a quirky blue garden shed. I shiver with anticipation!

And to celebrate the launch of Surrogates, here’s a steamy excerpt straight from the garden. Enjoy! (Be warned, this one’s a scorcher!)

Blurb:

DANIEL ALEXANDER III takes his marriage vows seriously. Until he gets the balls to ask his wife, BEL, for a divorce, watching each other masturbate is all he can offer his beautiful gardener, FRANCIE CARTER. But when Dan’s friend, SIMON PARIS, agrees to be his surrogate, affairs of the heart get complicated.

Excerpt:

‘Francie? Francie, are you there?’ Dan made his way around behind the jungle of runner beans, getting a shoe full of warm moist soil when he stepped off the path. As the grit infiltrated his dress socks, he would have cursed his clumsiness, but then he saw her on hands and knees, the swell of her hips slightly raised in her efforts to pull stubborn weeds. She didn’t have to do that. She was the head kitchen gardener, a goddess in her domain. He hired underlings to do the weeding, but fuck, he was glad she took the hands-on approach, especially at times like this. She had kicked off the silly blue plastic gardening clogs she always wore, and her bare toes curled into the soft earth as though the very touch of it was an irresistible pleasure. How could soil between toes be so goddamned sexy?

The thin summer skirt she wore barely covered the heart-shaped roundness of her bottom, hugging her and clinging in the heavy summer heat to the delicious juncture where her thighs met. There were clearly no panty lines. She gardened in skirts, like she wanted to expose herself, like the act of planting and digging and cultivating made her a naughty bitch, who couldn’t get enough. But then that was the way he saw her in his fantasies, and oh shit, did he have fantasies about her! His cock jerked with insistence that nearly took his breath away. ‘There you are,’ he breathed, fingers already fumbling at his fly.

‘Go away. I’m busy,’ she said, giving some unfortunate weed an angry tug, an act the made the thin skirt quiver, made the firm muscles of her buttocks beneath clench and release. And his balls surged sending a testosterone buzz clear to the crown of his head.

He ignored the anger in her voice, well he didn’t actually ignore it. Her saucy temper made his cock even harder. ‘It’s all right, darling, you keep on working. Just lift your skirt for me.’ He grunted softly as he released his cock into his hand.

‘Lift it yourself. I said I’m busy.’

‘You know I can’t do that, sweetheart.’

She growled something particularly feral under her breath. He figured it wasn’t fit for polite company, which made him wish all the more that he’d heard it.

‘I’ve got such a load for you. I’ll come all over it if you don’t lift it for me,’ he said.

‘I have other skirts, Daniel.’ She only called him Daniel when she was really angry. ‘Why do I care where you come?’

‘Because you know where I really want to come, darling, and you have to know how badly I want it.’ He moved slightly to one side, not so far that her magnificent bottom wasn’t the centre of his attention, but far enough that, in her peripheral vision, she might catch a glimpse of him stroking his cock. Even if she couldn’t, she knew what he was doing, and he had no intention of being quiet about it. He lifted his balls free from his boxers and groaned at the feel of himself so full, so heavy for her.

She gave another angry yank at the offending weeds, and the resulting squeeze of her buttocks nearly sent him over the edge.

Buy Links:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Barnes & Noble
Mischief

 

Allotted Views and Veggie Wet Dreams

I already have a reputation for writing garden porn, so when Sweetmeats Press’s fearless leader KoJo Black asked me if I’d write a dirty voyeurism story for the Immoral Views anthology, I knew it had to be garden porn. And here’s why.

Space for veg gardening is at a premium in the urban areas of the UK, and though we live in a bedroom community near London, we still don’t have a lot of space, and we’ve planted up every bit of our garden we can with veg. Every year the lawn gets smaller and the veg patch gets bigger, and we have gardener’s wet dreams of being able to plant all the sweet corn we can eat, or being able to have enough peas to freeze.

Because of where we live, there’s a very long wait for allotments. (For my American readers, allotments are the UK version of Victory Gardens.) We put in for an allotment three years ago. We live in hope. And in the meantime, the lawn still gets smaller.

There are some gorgeous allotments on one of our favourite walking paths set on the edge of the lovely village of Sheer along the Tillingbourne River. Every time we walk that route, we linger and gaze longingly over the fence at the brassicas and strawberries and runner beans and every other veg and fruit imaginable. We do that at every allotment, actually, we give it our best voyeuristic look-see, our pulse rates accelerate, and we talk dirty to each other – you know, compost-type dirty, phallic veg, type dirty, luscious, probing the earth type dirty. Oh yes, how we fantasise!

That was the actual inspiration for my story of Rose, who lives in a big house overlooking the Bluebell Street Allotments, and Jonathan, who is assigned the plot right below her bedroom window. His nasty, unorthodox gardening techniques get Rose’s full attention, and give her hours of filthy, blissful entertainment. But just how secret is her voyeuristic pleasure? Does Jonathan know more than he’s letting on?

Blurb:

When the mysterious JONATHAN takes on the thin strip of bramble-infested ground in the Blue Bell Street Allotments, veg gardener extraordinaire, ROSE, whose bedroom window overlooks his ‘small holding,’ wonders what idiot would take on such a project. When she ‘accidentally’ sees him chanting a bit of woo-woo and having a midnight wank under a full moon in his newly rotovated plot, she suspects his methods aren’t found in any RHS manual.

As watching his late night garden antics becomes more for voyeuristic pleasure than for sussing out sound horticultural practices, and as Jonathan’s garden grows more exquisite with every wank, Rose begins to wonder if there just might be something to a little sex woo-woo in the garden. But can she learn Jonathan’s secret without him learning hers, or will she be forced to come clean?

Excerpt:

Before my eyes, he stepped out of a pair of ratty Birkenstocks and slid baggy cargo trousers off over his straight hips and the pillowed swell of his bottom. He kicked them carelessly to one side. Apparently the occasion had called for commando, and I didn’t have to endure more disrobing before I was treated to the full-on. He was heavy, but not yet erect, hanging as though the weight of his cock was too much to comfortably bear so precariously stretched between his thighs. It sprawled over the rounded outward press of his balls in their cushion of springy curls that looked nearly transparent in the pale light.

The moon was a burnished disk, peeking through the branches of the lime trees on the far edge of the allotments. He stood with his back to it and his expanding personal geography facing my window. Then he raised his head, and my heart did a guilty flip-flop, certain he’d caught me watching. But he couldn’t possibly see me, I reassured myself as he stood there eyes lifted, chest rising and falling beneath the twin peaks of those exquisite nipples, rising and falling almost as though he were about to lift his voice in song and serenade me. But serenading wasn’t what he had in mind.

I held my breath. My pulse was a frantic flutter against my throat. My eyes stung from not blinking, not wanting to miss anything. Then his right hand took control of his penis with a firm grip, a gardener’s grip, a gardener who knew the proper use of his tools. At the moment of contact a shudder ran up his straight spine, and a tight grunt followed by a throaty sigh escaped his parted full lips.

It wasn’t until then that I believed the man was actually going to do it. He was actually going to have a wank right there on his well-rotovated allotment. And at that same moment, my own plan of action became equally evident. I was not going to go back to bed and give the man his privacy, privacy he didn’t even know he no longer had, so would obviously not miss. I was going to stay right where I was and watch. I was going to watch until the fat lady sang, and I was going to have a little diddle of my own. If he could be so brazen to cause such a disturbance just below my window on a work night, then I could be brazen too.

Buy links:

Amazon UK (paperback)
Smashwords

 
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