Category Archives: Blog

Final Draft Tunnel-Vision

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

A Day in the Life of Christine Blackthorn (@CBlackthorn @sinfulpress)

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I would love to tell you that it is a calm and quiet day full of contemplation and writing – but I have a toddler. This is notable and worth mentioning for sixteen months ago my day would have been tightly managed with a life alternating between being an academic and a writer. Then a introduced a whirlwind into my world.

My day starts with sunrise and I mean this literally. I can for example tell you that this morning the sun rose at 5.08 not because I am an ardent follower of sun cycles but because my son is solar powered. 5.08 was the first morning twitch. So, I get up as a mother, not a writer. Or it might be more accurate to say that I wake as I go to bed – as a storyteller. Every since I can remember there have been stories in my life, when I sleep, when I exercise, when I cook, there are always stories developing in my head.

So when my little being escapes his cot and comes over, dragging a book behind him with which to hit me over the head and remind me that it is time to tell the first story of the day, this is what I do. Though, contrary to the stories that will have brought you to this blog, the ones he hears contain more skipping dragons and fewer scantily clad vampires.

And this is how my day will progress. Between nappy changes, baby food, whilst we clean the kitchen together (ever read the Pippi Longstocking section where she puts brushes on her feet to clean the floor? No, try it with a one year old – it will be an absolute hit) or hang up the washing we chatter about dragons and fleas, fairies and foes. And the frog. Let’s not forget the frog.

And then there is nap time. Nap time is when my stories come out to play – the vampires and orcs, the aliens and everyday people. All generally running around saving mankind, alien kind, solving murders and conspiracies, whilst having a lot of sex.

But this last sounds a little too simplistic. All my stories have a strong sexual element but more so because sex, and erotic expression, play a huge role in the development of the relationships of my characters. Sex, not the superficial pleasure of merely exchanging touch (though that has its place as well) but sex that shakes your foundations and lets them settle stronger, is one of the few activities where the lessons life has taught us can fall away and we breathe, for a short time, without the constraints we taught ourselves.

All my stories, no matter if the characters try to solve a murder, save civilisation or just themselves, are about relationships and how they challenge us to be the best, or worst, we can be. This is what I am…. And the raptor cage rattles.

No, really. My son naps during the day in a travel cot besides me and to keep it dark in there we cover it with dark, breathable material. It is like a little cave from the inside but from the outside, the first signs of waking, are an ominous rattle and the cloth moving. The raptor cage rattles.

My afternoons are academic in nature. Teaching, counselling sessions, meetings … and here and there the glimpse of a well known figure, in the distance, possibly chasing along the parapets to catch a fleeing thief or who are burning the midnight oil to find that one detail that will save humanity. The characters in my books are always with me (and yes, that is what is happening when I get this glazed over look in meetings).

Early evenings, after bedtime and the obligatory story (not told by me but by my husband) allow me to get lost in my stories again. For a while. And then I close the computer and the evening belongs to my husband. And only to him.

*****

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A Variety of Chains excerpt

Slowly, he lowered more and more of his weight to rest on her until she could feel his hard and still clothed limbs against her nakedness. His arousal was unmistakable as it rested in the embrace of her body, only separated from her skin by the fabric of his trousers. His hand stroked down, over her hip to her knee, before he hooked a hand underneath it and brought it up to his waist, opening her further to him.

She wanted to blame the hour, so close to the fourteenth, for the wetness soaking his trousers, but knew that would not be entirely honest. Her body was wet with arousal and spasms of pleasure were tightening her womb. He started to roll his hips, stroking the fabric over a part of her that she had not realised could become so sensitive. With each stroke of his body against hers, something tensed in her a little more. His lips started to play with hers again, teasingly stroking over them and then nipping her with lightning speed. She needed something she did not know she needed, and with every second it seemed to come closer. The sound ripped from her throat was between a moan and a sob – and it stopped him in his tracks.

His brow came to rest against hers on a moan. “There is nothing I want more than to continue this so that when I ask you again if you have ever had an orgasm, you are in no doubt at all, but unfortunately now is not the time. Now is too close to midnight, and it would be careless of me to lose control.”

*****

avarietyofchainsBlurb

Kathryn McClusky is an ErGer – a rare and highly prized individual in the supernatural world.

She has spent her life running and hiding, but circumstances have changed and the only way to protect her family is to hand herself over to the Vampire Lord of London to face slavery or death.

Lucian Neben runs his London court with a stern but fair hand, but political pressures are building from both the human and fey worlds, and taking possession of an ErGer would cement his position of power.

Kathryn is vulnerable and broken almost beyond repair, but she holds in her hands the one treasure Lucian desperately wants – the possibility of home and family.

Can he teach her to open herself up; to choose to life, and him, before reality forces him to take her freedom?

Sales links

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*****

christineblackthornAuthor Bio

In “real” life, I am an academic with degrees in Political Science, Economics, Philosophy and Law and an insatiable desire to confound, baffle and disconcert my students. Someone once suggested to me the reason for my stories lay in the desire to offset the tedium and rationality of academic life. He wasn’t an academic or he would have known better. It is best to use research against tedium, students to offset the rationality and an unlimited supply of stressballs for the faculty meetings. The stories? Well, they are just for me – like a mental manicure.

I also write a blog on Feminism and Erotica – come talk to me:

Blog: http://christineblackthorn.eu/blog

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cnblackthorn

Twitter: https://twitter.com/CBlackthorn

*****

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Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/christine-blackthorn/

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Lust and Magic: Shameless Selfie on the Fells

13924941_10206900506259504_2409484410935329656_nYup! You guessed it! Being just back from some serious fell walking in the Lake District, today’s shameless selfie is inspired by my week of walking in the sunshine – a very lucky weather condition in the English Lakes, and one that can change in a heartbeat. In fact it was that sudden change in the Lakeland weather that inspired my four-novel Lakeland Witches series. When what started out as a walk on a sunny day turned into a downpour accompanied by thick mist, I was inspired – after I was down safely drinking coffee in a tea shop in Grange.

 

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

 

WARNING: Seriously adult content … and lots of magic.

 

Body Temperature and RisingBlurb:

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

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

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

 

 

LakelandWitches1BTRBody Temperature and Rising Chapter One:

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

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

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

‘Anderson? Are you there?’ 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something in the way the man spoke that was strange. The accent was very British, and yet not. And the wayxcite1DEMON INTERRUPTEDedit
he moved against the woman, the way he protectively pulled her to him, the way his mouth made love to hers banished Marie’s irritation that they’d chosen her path for their reunion. Irritation was replaced by longing that ached down through her torso to mingle with the strange buzz that had migrated to the soft spot between her legs, and the air felt suddenly warmer. The man’s hands joined the reunion. He slid the strap of the woman’s tank top down to spill a bare breast heavily into his waiting palm. He paused to knead it and fondle it as though he had never seen anything more exquisite. Then he took as much of it into his mouth as he could. The woman released a shrill gasp as though cold water had been poured onto her. ‘I can feel it,’ she breathed. ‘We were right.’ Then she held him to her, letting him nurse at her in hungry nibbles and slurps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As Marie watched his fingers move over the slick spread of the woman’s open folds she wished it were her cunt 13873113_10206900507379532_2466330018196114994_nAnderson was caressing. But at the same time she wished she could touch the soft smooth skin that opened itself so pliantly to his probing. Marie could swear she smelled the tide pool of the woman’s arousal, different from her own, yet so delicious that it made her mouth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tara only nodded and continued her breathless mutterings.

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

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

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

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

With her gaze locked on the writhing couple, Marie tugged and pinched at the heavy nib of her clit until it buzzed with IMG_6129raw heat close to pain but much closer still to pleasure. She shoved and twisted and thrust the rest of her fingers into her grasping cunt until she reached the precipice, lingered there for a moment, then free-fell into a long dizzying orgasm, just as Tara convulsed her own release in breathless guttural grunts.

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

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

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Reviews:

 

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

*****

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

*****

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

*****

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

*****

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

*****

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

*****

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

*****

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

*****

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

*****

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

*****

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

*****

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

 

Another Post Card from KD

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

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

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The View from the top out across the moorlands.

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

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

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My walking partner. Hottest man on the fells!

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

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

A Post Card from K D

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

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

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

 

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