Visit my Website for all the blurbs, excerpts and news!!

Visit my Website for all the blurbs, excerpts and news!!
Visit my Website for all the blurbs, excerpts and news!!

Tuesday 31 October 2017

OMG I saw the ghost of Bartholomew Addison Jenkins!!!



It was yesterday night, the night before Halloween, mind, a night dark and wet like a duck’s behind, and I was scheduling blog posts, a rather dull activity, in most cases, when I came across this title, which had been on my list for a while. The Chef and the Ghost of Bartholomew Addison Jenkins. Very pretty cover, remarkbly intriguing title. I started copying and pasting blurb, pictures, teaser. An evening like any other, in a blogger's life, I thought. 
"Hey," I said,aloud, to the cat, "Ever heard of a Bartholomew Addison Jenkins?"
And then someone coughed.
Nothing major, mind. There was no hint that someone might be having a sore throat. It was a quiet, polite cough, and yet every hair on the back of my neck stood on end and I went prickly all over. Holy smokes, I thought, what the hell? I turned around and, there right behind me stood a… man.
“Good evening,” he said, most politely.
“Um … good evening,” I said, and stared. At first I stared because this guy was standing on my precious Persian rug wearing heavy black shoes (with a silver buckle) which is heresy in this house. Then I went on staring because he was … how shall I put it … translucent? Slightly see-through? 
He was only a little taller than me, wearing a pair of knee knickers and a long, dark jacket.  The knickers were tight around his flat, hard belly, and his eyes were an extraordinary shade of light brown.  His hair, pulled back in a short ponytail, was a darker brown. His expression was at once thoughtful and merry.
“Er … excuse me, you would be…?”
“Bartholomew Addison Jenkins,” he said, bowing. “I prefer Bart.  I do keep up.” He extended a slightly transparent hand which I shook. His fingers were either very hot or very cold.  I couldn’t tell which.  It tickled a little to touch them.
“O-ok,” I said, giving a quick look to the screen of my computer to confirm it really was the same name as the cover of the book I had just pasted. It was! “I didn’t realize you did live interviews,” I said, by way of giving myself time to process this interesting turn of events. Then I bit my tongue. Live interviews with a ghost … right.
Bart smiled.  “My lady,” he said.
Wow.
“Um, well, sit down, please… would you mind telling me a little about you? Let’s start from the beginning. I can’t place your style at all. Where and when do you come from?”
“New York State.  The Hudson River Valley,” he said.  “A little town called Englehook.  Pleasant place, not too terribly affected by the recent war, although of course there were certain … disturbances.”  He put his hands in the pocket of his long, silver-buttoned jacket.
“War?”
“Between the United States and the Crown.”
 “Oooh, THAT war. I see. And how did you become, how shall I put it, defunct? Is that an indelicate question? I am terribly sorry.” 
Bart’s smile faded.  “You understand, m’lady, it is impolite to discuss that in better ghostly circles.  It assumes a certain … intimacy.”
“Indeed! Oh dear, oh dear. I apologize. Ok. So now you are haunting people’s apartments, I read. How is that working out for you?  What is an average day in a haunted flat like?”
“It depends, of course, upon the tenants of those rooms.  Ghosts often sleep in the daytime to preserve their energy for pleasurable activities in the evening, and that was indeed a mercy before Alma moved in!  The previous tenants were untidy and uninteresting.  Hippies.”
(I cringes, given my penchant for mandala curtains and fringed things, but I let it pass. Helooked so courteous)
 “Alma? I must admit I am curious. What is it like for a ghost, to, well, you know, fall in love, I suppose? I mean,” I gently poked at his chest, and felt something like a shock of static electricity. “Is there a heart beating in there? What are the symptoms of ghostly passion?”
Bart’s eyes gleamed.  They were light brown, almost bronze in color.  “It is very much as it was in the flesh.  A hot rush, an urge for release.  But as in the flesh, there are certain…shall we say dangers.  And the requirement to practice a sort of restraint, lest … oh, we needn’t discuss this now.  Let me say that ghosts, like those on the other side of the veil, have only a certain amount of energy to expend.”
“That’s intriguing. And all this prickling and hair rising that you do to people… Do you do that on purpose, or does it just happen? What are the physics of ghost-to-living-human interaction? And is there an etiquette to it?”
“I am considered to be a master at those—as you say—physics.  And the etiquette is as it always was and shall be.  The lady must be willing.  Loving Alma is the first time I sampled the pleasures of the boudoir with the living since I have resided on their side.  There is a warmth and sweetness to her that I had almost forgotten.  With other ghosts, lovemaking is more like a lightning strike.  But I am being indiscreet.”
“Fancy that!! Ok, just a couple more questions … back to the story. I have inside info that a, um colleague of yours is making an appearance. Name of Geoff? Can you tell me a little about him? And the other ghosts in your … er … circle? How does one becomes a ghost?”
“Geoff is a hot head.  I swear he did not know he was dead for decades!  He is a master of the low jest and yet cannot take a joke at his own expense. And I do not know how this fate befell either of us.  Not everyone who passes remains here.”
“Do you mean we don’t all become ghosts? What are the rules?”
“We do not.  And the rules are those we discover as we proceed.  We do not need food, although we enjoy the aroma of it cooking.  We appreciate beautiful music.  And love—that we may enjoy, if cautiously. There’s no real peril for the living in an involvement with us.  No fear of—how do I put this delicately—offspring.  We are utterly harmless, and we cannot…”  He coughed again. “I swear to you, lady, we are quite thoroughly harmless. We are.”
“Uh-ah?” I say, a bit doubtfully, but he smiles on serenely, carefully not ignoring my skepticism. “Ok, the million dollars question… Albus Dumbledore said, that to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. What is your take on the matter?”
“Dumbledore!  What a curious name.  An adventure, yes, and one that may be delighted in.”
“Wow! Thank you! Well, I’ll be reading more about you in the book soon, so I’ll leave it at that. I am sure you have a busy time, giving interviews all over the globe. It was most courteous of you to pay me a visit.”
He took my hand and looked deeply into my eyes, and again I could not tell whether his fingers were hot or cold.  My arm prickled.  And then he bowed. “My lady,” he said, and vanished.  The light on my desk went off, and so did my computer.  I hoped I’d remembered to save the changes to my blog!
And so I was left alone in the room again. And not a speck of dirt stained the Persian rug.



Autumn, 1982. MTV is new, poodle perms are the rage, and life just might be getting better for Alma Kobel.  Her ugly divorce is final at last. Her new job as chef at Bright Day School’s gorgeous old estate is actually fun.  But the place is haunted—and so is Alma’s apartment. Bartholomew Addison Jenkins’ ghost has been invisibly watching her for months.  When he materializes one night, Alma discovers Bart—as he likes to be called—has talents she couldn’t have imagined…and a horrifying past. What happens if you have a one-nighter with a ghost?  And what happens if one night is all you want—and you end up ghosting him?  Some spirits don’t like taking “no” for an answer.


Read an Excerpt at Evernight 
or download a sample from Amazon!

Sunday 29 October 2017

Tenderly Wicked - Katerina Ross - a review




It’s been a long time since I refused to get out of bed in the morning on Sunday because I simply had to finish a book. This just happened with Tenderly Wicked.
It might seem strange to review a book by talking about a different book, but I would like to mention Lauren P. Burka’s short stories Mate and Whip Hand, which have been for years and years my very favourite bits of erotic writing. They are actually one story, in a way, featuring the same characters, Terry and D’Shane, a S/M gay couple who find each other and themselves when their sub/Dom relationship clicks into place. There was so much emotion for me in that story, in the way these two beautifully flawed characters discovered things about themselves through BDSM. The story had one major defect…it was too short…
That is where Tenderly Wicked comes in for me. It has something of the same emotional charge… but it goes into a much more articulate exploration of the two characters’ journey, which is as much psychological as physical (maybe more).
I have been swept away into this book since the very start. The moment Vadim made an entrance, actually. Vadim, whose point of view is never explored in the story. I know some Romance readers have an issue with this, but isn’t it how real life is? You fall in love with someone, and you never have the luxury of being into their heads. They are an unknowable mystery you can only explore day by day, skirting disaster, hoping to get the hang of them at some point. And that is what Max needs to do, as a Dom and as a friend, to make sense of this incredibly beautiful, strangely damaged, self-destructive, sweet riddle that Vadim is. I have been deeply moved and shaken by this character. And his final dramatic act… well, no spoilers, but, it completely blew me away.
And I loved the Russian setting of the book. I enjoyed Max’s explorations of the Moscow streets and attractions as much as I enjoyed his explorations of Vadim’s slim, gorgeous body.

Tenderly Wicked on Amazon

Friday 27 October 2017

LGBTQI Tales - Serenity Snow - Hearts on Fire



Well, dear readers, we have come to the end of this fabulous series of posts about LGBT and Trangender Tales! It's been a blast, and I want to thank all the authors who wrote posts for me, and all the readers that joined us for the ride (and I know there were many!). 

We go out with a bang with a very very unusual story by Serenity Snow, who wrote somany fine F/F books. This story is particularly interesting in featuring an almost unique character... I will let Serenity tell you about her...

"Dear Katherine, thank you featuring Heart on Fire. It’s a story in which I did two things I’d never done before. The first was to write about an intersex lesbian character. Cyanna is a dominant female part of a cynogryphon pack. While I’d written about shifters before, I’d never written about a cynogryphon.  

In doing research I met a someone who further shaped the character of Cyanna. She had decided not to allow her physical anomaly to shape her mentally or emotionally. I also realized just how hard it can be being physically different as well as being gay."

This is especially interesting to me, because, when I was writing Woman as a Foreign Language I had seriously considered having an intersex character (Julia/n), but then I simply didn't dare to go there. Not for any scruples in particular ... I just felt I could not handle the emotional implications of such a very particular character, when there was already so much emotion going on in the story! 
Maybe in some future book!
So, respect, a thousand times, Serenity, for writing this story, and I am happy and honoured to host it 
today!







Joslyn Browning’s got it bad for her boss, Cyanna Storm, and Joslyn would love to show up at her sister’s wedding with her boss on her arm. There’s just one problem. Cyanna doesn’t know Joslyn exists.


Cyanna wants Joslyn in her bed, but she’s always been careful about getting involved with her employees. However, Joslyn’s one honey she can no longer resist. So, when fate hands her the perfect opportunity, Cyanna grabs it, but she has no idea that the object of her hunger is also being hunted by two jackals who want to claim or kill Joslyn.


Blind to the danger stalking her, Joslyn wallows in the affections of her boss until a jackal attacks. It is then that Joslyn and her pursuers realize a cynogryhon in the grip of mating heat will stop at nothing to protect prey she’s marked as her mate.



Excerpt:

Joslyn put the box of pastries on the desk and wondered why there were no pictures of family or friends. She didn’t live with her family, but pack was important, and honoring their presence in her life with pictures was the least to be done.
“You’re late, Miss Browning.”
Cyanna Storm’s quiet, slightly husky voice was a caress down her back, and her wolf almost arched into it. The wolf felt the power of the woman and wanted to wrap itself in it. Joslyn wanted to do the same, but she jerked around with a startled gasp.
Cyanna was striding toward her in a navy suit with a gray blouse and red tie. Her black, wavy hair was cut short with bangs swept casually to one side. The cut emphasized Cyanna’s beautiful, chestnut-brown eyes with their darker outer ring, her high cheekbones, and lush lips. Her gaze was as enigmatic as ever, but her tone held strands of tiredness.
Joslyn swallowed. “I—”
“Let’s cut to the chase this morning,” Cyanna cut in, moving around her, and their bodies brushed, sending shivers of heat running down Joslyn’s spine.
Joslyn’s wolf growled in her mind, enjoying the faintest feel of the other woman.
“I need you to get the documents typed. I need them for a meeting today.” Cyanna folded her five-foot-eight-inch frame into her leather chair without breaking eye contact with Joslyn.
“I’ll get right on it,” she said apologetically. Her stomach twisted in knots and her mouth dried out. Her heart beat fast as nerves and desire washed over her. “That’s a nice dress,” Cyanna said. Her gaze took a slow stroll down Joslyn’s body. Joslyn felt branded, undressed. “And thank you for the…the pastries.”
Joslyn blinked, taken aback by the compliment. Cyanna was sporadic with them, but Joslyn didn’t think her boss really noticed her at all. “Thanks.”
“It cups your ass so perfectly,” she said without looking up from her computer.
Joslyn flushed and her tongue felt like a lead weight had been tied to the end of it. Her jaw was stuck closed and her mind grappled desperately for a comeback that wouldn’t sound like a come-on.
“Really, Joslyn, I need those papers ready in an hour. I’ll admire you all you want after that.” Cyanna didn’t even look up, though her tone held a distinct hint of amusement. “Don’t dally. I don’t want to look unprepared for the meeting.”
“Umm. Yes, ma’am.” Her cheeks were so hot with mortification that she was glad Cyanna hadn’t looked up to see her beet-red face. Damn. “How can I not make a fool of myself in front of that woman?” she asked in a whisper as she stepped out of the door. “She must be laughing at me, thinking I’m an utter dumb-ass. Ugh.” She pushed out a rough sigh, sat down at her desk and got the computer fired up.
Joslyn was working for ten minutes when she got an email. Joslyn ignored it with a rueful look. She didn’t want to start appearing unreliable. The papers looked like some kind of contract.

Joslyn finished ten minutes before the hour was over and snagged the phone on her desk when it rang. “Eye of the Beholder, how may I help you.”
“Hey, Joslyn.”
“Mariana. I’m going to have to call you back,” she said. “I’m working.”
“I just want to know if you’re bringing a guest. We’re finalizing things today.”
“Mari, I can’t talk about your wedding right now,” she insisted. “My boss asked me to finish something up.”
“It’ll only take a minute or two for you to answer the question.”
The humor in her sister’s voice just ticked her off. Mariana was the oldest and most popular of the two of them. Their parents adored her, doted on her, and she had so many friends it should be illegal.
 Yeah, Joslyn was jealous. Mariana had everything. Never mind that the marriage had been an arranged one by their parents to ensure their daughter didn’t marry a human.
 “I’ll call you right back,” she said, picking up the scent of her boss as she opened her office door. Joslyn hung up just as a six-foot-two-inch-tall male strode into the reception area. Damn. Double damn. This wedding was turning her into a nervous wreck and she wasn’t even the bride.
“Mr. Anchorman,” Cyanna said coolly. “Please, step into my office. I’ll be right with you.”
There was no ice, but there was irritation coming off Cyanna that made Joslyn’s wolf bristle. “I’ll bring the papers in shortly,” she said facing her boss. “I apologize.”
“We’ll talk after the meeting,” she said patiently.