Author Friends: Carolyn Reilly

Are you a panster or a plotter?

Definitely plotter. I plot in excruciating detail. To me, it’s the best part of the writing process. Once I start writing, it gets complicated since English is only my second language. Thankfully, I have a fantastic team of editors, betas, and proofreaders.

Do you believe in Writer’s Block? If so, how do you kick its arse?

I don’t believe in writer’s block, but I do believe in procrastination. Sadly 😉

 

What book is your comfort read on a bad day? The one you go back to reread over and over. 

Oh, I wish I had the time to reread some of my all-time favorites. But with my day job, writing my own novels, and all the books on my TBR, that’s just not possible.

 

Describe your perfect writing space: 

Easy. Next to my horses’ pasture. Nothing soothes, relaxes, and grounds me like the sight and sound of grazing horses.

 

Do you write your title first or story first?

For the Deadly DNA Series it was stories first, for my upcoming Everdark Crossroads Series it was titles first.

 

And lastly, write a one or two paragraph flash fiction inspired by the last photo or text you got on your phone:

Why in the ever-loving hell had he agreed to visit this hilltop castle? Climbing 120+ flights of rough-terrain stairs in the pouring rain, acting as if they were petty human tourists. Three flaps of his wings would have taken them both there.

But she’d opted against it, not because the voice of reason told her. Or because she was afraid they might be discovered. No. Her point: What’s the fun in it. Really? Fun? To this day, he thought he knew her. But apparently, he hadn’t been aware of her masochistic tendencies. Wait. That wicked smile she tossed him made him think twice. Make that sadistic tendencies.

Bio:

Carolyn Reilly has been working for the German Federal Foreign Office (aka Department of State) for more than 20 years. A good part of that time she was assigned to German Embassies in civil war Lagos/ Nigeria and Khartoum/ Sudan, with the German Consulate General in New York and with German Embassies in Central Asian countries Kirgizstan and Kazakhstan. She still works part-time for the Foreign Office, but has meanwhile exchanged those restless and not exactly hazard-free postings abroad with a quieter life in the Bavarian countryside.

 

When she isn’t reading or writing, she enjoys spending time outdoors with her Icelandic horses. She advocates animal welfare and a percentage of the proceeds of her books goes to Farmed Animal Sanctuary Hof Butenland in Northern Germany.

Links:

Author Friends: Kelly Collins

Are you a panster or a plotter?

I’m an outliner which is neither. I always know where the story is going but I don’t plot scene by scene. I write down pinnacle moments and plan my way from one to the next, leaving plenty of room for organic things to happen in the book.



Do you believe in Writer’s Block? If so, how do you kick its arse?
I don’t really believe in writer’s block as much as I’d say I believe in lack of motivation. If I’m not feeling a scene or can’t come up with something then I will scrap it because if I don’t like it my readers won’t either. No use writing yourself into a dead end.

What book is your comfort read on a bad day? The one you go back to reread over and over.

I haven’t reread any book really. There are so many to read that would be knew and entertaining to me. Although I was gifted a book I read as a child called Harriet The Spy and I plan to read it again. It was my favorite book in like fourth grade. I also recently purchased The Outsiders by S.E Hinton which is also an elementary school read that I want to enjoy again. As far as a comfort read on a bad day, I love a good heart-wrenching romance. Anything Nicholas Sparks will make me cry and then it’s out of my system and I’m good. 

Do you write your title first or story first?

I’ve done both, but generally I have a title and a cover before I ever dig into writing the book. 

And lastly, write a one or two paragraph flash fiction inspired by the last photo or text you got on your phone:

The last text I received was, “Thanks for breakfast.”
“Thanks for breakfast,” she said.
You’re welcome.” His jovial tone didn’t match the war he fought inside himself. Did he pull her to him and kiss the breath from her lips? Did he walk her to her car and let her drive out of his life forever? He’d been in love with her since high school. Ten years later they were both single and back in town. This was his chance at love. “What about dinner?”
The amber flecks in her eyes brightened and danced. “You want to have dinner with me?”
He risked a kiss—really a brush of his lips to hers. “I want so much more, but let’s start with dinner.”
Bio:
International bestselling author of more than thirty novels, Kelly Collins writes with the intention of keeping the love alive. Always a romantic, she blends real-life events with her vivid imagination to create characters and stories that lovers of contemporary romance, new adult, and romantic suspense will return to again and again.

Kelly lives in Colorado at the base of the Rocky Mountains with her husband of twenty-seven years, their two dogs, and a bird that hates her. She has three amazing children, whom she loves to pieces.

You can learn more about Kelly at www.authorkellycollins.com

I have a new small town series that recently released. Here’s book three. Aspen Cove is a sweet with heat series. These are connected full-length novels but can be read independently of one another. 

There is always a free read on my website:

Cheese Addicts Anonymous (A Sin Bin Flash Fiction)

In celebration of my upcoming Sin Bin release, Haka Ever After. I decided to do a small flash fiction event. Today’s the second one titled, Cheese Addicts Anonymous. It features Freddie & Tens from The Caretaker.


Poke.

Poke.

Waving a hand absently, Taine tried to dislodge whatever had slapped him in the face. He’d barely drifted off when it whacked him again. The lack of snickering from Freddie made him slowly wake himself up.

Frederick?”

With a groggy grunt, Taine opened his eyes in the middle of the night to find himself in bed alone. Well, not completely alone. Freddie’s monster of a cat sat firmly on his chest. One paw continued to periodically poke him in the face, which explained what had been the cause of waking up so early.

“All right, you obnoxious beast.” Taine plucked Bitsy off his chest to avoid being cat-slapped for the umpteenth time. “Let’s go find our wayward Freddie.”

Padding barefoot through their house, Taine checked the bathroom, spare bedrooms, and office. Where’s he gone? He eventually found Freddie in the kitchen.

What in the world is he doing?

Is he actually… where the hell is my phone?

Quietly retracing his steps, Taine grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He had every intention of obtaining video proof to use to tease Freddie. Bitsy definitely deserved the most massive piece of tuna he could find for the cat.

With phone recording, Taine watched his beloved Freddie hold a small grater in one hand and a block of cheese in the other. He had his head tilted back with his arms up, grating the cheddar straight into his mouth. It was like being David Attenborough and observing a rare species in their natural habitat.

And here we have a lone cheese addict, partaking in his secretive ritual never before seen by man.

Taine stared in pure amusement as Freddie grated his favourite cheddar cheese directly into his mouth. “Is this what you get up to when I’m asleep?”

Freddie froze mid-grate and peered over at Taine with wide eyes. “Hello.”

“Do we need to talk about your addiction?” He chuckled at the flush on Freddie’s cheeks. “Is there a Cheese Addicts Anonymous out there? Twelve steps to resisting the siren call of cheddar?”

“You’re not funny.” Freddie set the grater on the counter. “I was hungry.”

“And grating cheddar into your mouth seemed the most logical way to solve the problem?” Taine leaned against the counter. “Is this what you do every night when I fall asleep?”

“Not every night.” Freddie toyed with the grater.

“Do you dream about me grating cheese into your mouth?” Taine watched Freddie turn immediately to clean up the counter. “Am I naked or wearing a tongue? Are we going to need to get a chaise lounge for you to recline on?”

“Tens,” Freddie groaned. “Can’t you pretend this never happened?”

“No.”

Coc y gath.” Freddie finished washing the grater and set it aside. He moved to rewrap the cheddar, returning it to the fridge. “I should be glad you didn’t capture photographic evidence. You didn’t, did you?”

“Freddie, I need to ask you a serious question.” Taine moved further into the kitchen. “How often do you do this?”

Cach.” Freddie dropped his head in his hands, continuing to matter himself in Welsh. “Not often.”

“Frederick.” He fought hard not to burst out laughing at how red Freddie had gone.

“Taine.”

“Will you tell me if I promise to grate cheese into your mouth while naked?” He grinned when Freddie’s head popped up. “And I’m the kinky one?”

“Yes, you are.”

‘How much wanking have you done to this cheese grating fantasy you have?” Taine figured if he had to wake up at an ungodly hour, he might as well amuse himself.

“Taine Afoa.” Freddie attempted to dart by him. “I’m going to sleep.”

Taine caught Freddie by the arm, dragging him into his arms and thoroughly enjoying the warmth of him. “That’s not an answer.”

Cachu hwch.


Welsh Translations:

Coc y gath – The cat’s willy (Or – Bollocks)

Cachu hwch – Pig’s poo (It’s all gone wrong)

Cach – Shit

For more on Freddie & Taine, be sure to check out their story, The Caretaker – Book Two of The Sin Bin & the upcoming Haka Ever After.


Cheese Addicts Anonymous © 2018 by Dahlia Donovan

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

Cheese Addicts Anonymous is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Cheese Addicts Anonymous by Dahlia Donovan (PDF Download)

 

Author Friends: Jeanne St. James

Are you a panster or a plotter?

Pantser. I want my characters to surprise me.

Do you believe in Writer’s Block? If so, how do you kick its arse?

Yes. I rarely have it. But reading a book is the best way to get my creative juices flowing.

What book is your comfort read on a bad day? The one you go back to reread over and over. 

 I don’t have any that I reread. I have too many good books on my TBR list to go back and reread any.

Describe your perfect writing space: 

 On a balcony overlooking the Caribbean Sea in a comfortable chair.

 Do you write your title first or story first?

It just depends on the story. I’ve done it both ways.

Tempting Him (An Obsessed Novella)

 

Buy Link: https://books2read.com/TemptingHim

Blurb: 

It’s not just a love story, it’s an obsession…

Skylar:            

Every time my neighbor jogs past my house, I do my best to tempt him. Washing my car, watering my lawn, doing yoga in the grass with all my assets in the air. I’m not sure if he notices me, but I sure can’t miss him.

Then one day he falls… into my arms and into my bed. Surprisingly, we’re better matched than I would’ve expected. But when he reveals who he is, my world comes crashing down around me because if he finds out my secret we’re finished before we’ve even begun.

Cade:

Three days a week, I put myself through hell by jogging through my neighborhood. I suffer through it simply to catch a glimpse of a woman I don’t know. Every time I pass her house she’s outside tempting me. Until one day I fall… over my feet, over my heart, over this woman and into her arms.

I know nothing about her, but I want to discover everything. Even her deepest, darkest secrets. However, little does she know, I have one, too. One that may sever the tie that binds us.

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Skylar:

 

I watch as sweat drips one bead at a time onto my over-priced yoga mat. The sun is so freaking hot and here I am, like an idiot out in my yard, bent over in the downward facing dog pose for the past million years. Okay, not years… maybe more like a million seconds. But my body has decided it hates me (nothing new) and is cramping while my head spins. Even better, my over-priced yoga pants have clawed their way up my crack (as well as one other place). And still…

No neighbor.

What the hell?

Despite my eyeballs’ attempt at bulging out of their sockets, I peek at my sports watch. He should’ve been by here two-point-five minutes ago.

Shit.

The man is usually like clockwork, jogging by my house on Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons every week. For the most part, anyway. Though, thunderstorms seem to discourage him from his cardio. (Not sure why.)

On those days, I would be willing to recommend another type of cardio to get his heart pumping. And maybe get his hips pumping, too.

Anyway… look at me! Doing yoga on my front lawn, on the uneven grass, waiting like a desperate woman. (I’m not, really, I promise! It just looks that way.)

But, damn, the man is fine and when he jogs past shirtless, he’s shiny with sweat, which makes me want to drag him inside and give him a sponge bath with my tongue.

My thighs start shaking as I peek between my spread legs, because, of course, my ass has to be facing the street. I want him to get a good look at what I’m offering.

I may even wiggle it a little when he jogs by.

That is if I don’t pass out into a heap first.

I sigh.

Then sigh again a little louder just for good measure.

Maybe it would be easier if I just took up jogging. Wear one of those sexy sports bras, put my hair up in a cute little pony tail, plaster a smile on my face and follow him around the block at a perky pace.

I’ll die first.

****

Cade:

Why I ever started this shit, I’ll never know. No, I lie. I know. I thought, “Cade, dude, wouldn’t it be great to up your cardio game and start running?”

I answered myself with, “Yeah, man, that would be great and fun, too!” And then maybe I won’t get so winded when I play basketball with the guys. I’ll have more endurance, I’ll look and feel younger, and…

Fuck that.

Running sucks. And I don’t even think what I do can be considered as running. No, it’s more of a jog. Or a lope. Or trotting like a donkey with a lame hoof.

Inhell. Exhell.

My chest burns, my leg muscles spasm, my balls feel like they’re floating in a puddle of sweat, and the crack of my ass…

I’m not even going there. (Trust me, you don’t want to, either.)

So, why don’t I just stop the torture? (Good question!)

I’ve asked myself that for the past month.

And the answer has always been…

Her.

I sacrifice three days a week just to see a woman I don’t know.

Not sure why, but she always seems to be outside at the same time of the day. For that reason, I make sure that’s when I go running (jogging, trotting, limping) by.

Am I crazy to torture myself because I find someone attractive and I’d like to get her attention?

Eh. Maybe.

Why don’t I just knock on her door and ask her out? (Another good question.)

Maybe I want to impress her with my physique and athletic prowess.

But honestly, something has to give and it has to be soon. Because this running shit sucks balls and I’d rather stick razor blades under my fingernails.

At least my slow trot is the right speed to observe her without being creepy. Walking would be too slow and obvious. Driving too quick and useless, not to mention dangerous when she’s clearly a distraction.

And, of course, my pace always allows me enough time to enjoy the show she gives me.

On Wednesday, she was out washing her car, her top soaked, her nipples pushing through the thin fabric of her shirt, and when she bent over to scrub the hood of said car, my boner just about popped out of my shorts. You know, those little nylon running shorts. The ones with the mesh liner, clearly not made for sexual arousal.

But I digress.

The week before, she was out watering her lawn. And, once again, her top was wetter than her grass.

Here’s the thing, the entire neighborhood has built-in sprinklers.

Maybe hers are broken.

It’s possible.

I grunt as I turn the corner and try to push myself a little faster since I’m off my game today. I’m later than normal, and I want my running to look as effortless as possible. It needs to look as though I’ve got my shit together and I’m not secretly suffering.

My eyes swing to the left as I jog. She’s the fourth house up. The brick ranch home with the two-car garage.

Two houses to go yet.

One house.

My eyes widen as I see her ass in tight black yoga pants in the air. My step stutters but I can’t stop my momentum.

My mouth becomes an O, partly because I’m falling over my own two feet, the other because she’s dropped to her knees and is now arching backwards grabbing onto her heels, her generous tits straining against her top.

Last thing I see is her blinking upside down at me as her head hangs down her back.

Suddenly, I’m staring at nothing but pavement (and my loss of manhood). The little bit of oxygen I had sucked into my lungs is now gone.

Then, what seems like seconds later, bare, cute, red painted toes come into view.

I want to just die.

About the Author:

JEANNE ST. JAMES is a USA Today bestselling erotic romance author who loves an alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing. Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here: BookHip.com/MTQQKK

To keep up with her busy release schedule check her website at www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for her newsletter: http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup

Author Links:

Website: http://www.jeannestjames.com

Blog: http://jeannestjames.blogspot.com

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

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jeannestjames/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JeanneStJames

Amazon Author Page: http://tinyurl.com/JeanneStJames

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/JeanneStJames

Newsletter: http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup

Review & Book Crew: https://www.facebook.com/groups/JeannesReviewCrew/

Author Friends: Sheri Velarde

Blurb:

A handsome deputy who’s not looking to settle down.
A mysterious woman who’s on the run.

When Deputy Henri Gunther realizes there’s so much more to waitress Jenna Trippleton, his simple small-town life explodes right open. With her safety and freedom at stake, Jenna must decide whether she can put her trust in the one man who’s promised to protect her.

Links:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2DK8nbo
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2zZFDsB
Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/2CB93k2
Amazon AU: http://amzn.to/2lzlhSG

Meet the Character: Jenna Trippleton from A Whole New Life by Sheri Velarde

Hi, my name is Jenna Trippleton. Well, that’s not real name but that’s all that you are going to get out of me. When I left my old life behind, men and love were the last thing on my mind. I wanted a small town life, no excitement, no commitment, no one getting too close to me. Of course I had no idea about the town hunk of Pella back then, the one and only Deputy Henri Gunther. Sure I knew he was hot the first time that I laid eyes on him. Everyone can see that. I tried my hardest to resist his charm, but damn that man can be persistent. Soon I saw past those blue eyes and dimples, soon I saw the perfectly imperfect man behind the façade that he showed the world. What’s worse is he broke down my own walls and defenses, leaving me vulnerable. I should have ran right then and there, but can you really run for love if it comes knocking?

I guess that you can say the story of how Henri and I fell in love is quite thrilling, full of ups and downs and probably a bit more intrigue than the usual romance. Want to read more about it? It was chronicled in A Whole New Life by Sheri Velarde.

 

Author Links:

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Sher_V

Website/blog: https://authorsherivelarde.weebly.com/

Nice Arse (A Sin Bin Flash Fiction)

In celebration of my upcoming Sin Bin release, Haka Ever After. I decided to do a small flash fiction event. Today’s the first one, titled Nice Arse. It features two characters I get asked about a lot — Remi Chardin and his lovely wife, Sarah Chardin.


“Who’s he, then?” Sarah leaned forward in her seat to see over the rows of rugby fans in front of her. “He’s a hairy beast. Nice arse on him.”

“Remi Chardin. Captain of the French team.” Ivan reached a hand out to drag her back into her seat when she stood up. “Heard he’s taking up a coaching position in the next year or so in England. Supposedly he’s friends with some of the British team. He’s a brilliant player.”

“I thought you hated the French team.” Sarah had been shocked when Ivan actually accepted her invitation to the Italy vs. France game in Paris. She hadn’t been surprised when he spent the entire time complaining. “If you’re going to grumble at me under your breath again, why’d you bother coming with me at all?”

No answer.

Each year, she’d watched her brother turn more and more into an angry recluse who closely resembled their father. The trip had been her idea to goad him into a better mood. It hadn’t worked.

Ivan was as unreachable in Paris as at home. Her gaze returned to the bearded Frenchman with a sigh. Well, at least I have someone to ogle with Mr Rain Cloud sitting beside me.

By the time the game ended, Sarah had realised she’d spent the entire time watching Remi Chardin. He stood taller and broader than most of the men on the filed with long, wild dark brown hair that bled into his beard. The French Captain seemed more ancient warrior than rugby player.

“Want to go—”

“No.” Ivan cut her off instantly. “We’re going to the hotel.”

“Already?” She’d assumed they’d see the city a little. “It’s barely four in the afternoon. It’s Paris. I mean, Paris. We can’t spend the entire day in the hotel.”

“And?” Ivan shouldered his way through the throngs of fans trying to exit, leaving an easy path for his sister in his wake. “What’s to see?”

“The Eiffel Tower? Museums? Shops? Actual French macarons and patisserie.” Sarah planned to eat her weight before returning home. “Don’t you want to explore with me?”

Once they made it safely out of the stadium, Ivan stormed off toward the hotel to brood. Moody twit. Sarah had no intentions of wasting the day inside. In the end, she thought it a blessing in disguise since her brother would’ve ruined her fun.

Not wanting to get lost in a crush of other tourists, Sarah wandered the streets around their hotel after seeing the Eiffel Tower. She indulged in an embarrassingly large number of pastries and more coffee than was probably good for her. It had been a dream in her teens to spend weeks in Paris, but she thought she had a better appreciation for the city now in her twenties.

As the sun started to set on the city of lights, Sarah wanted a warm meal before dealing with her brother. Ivan tended to play the protective older brother almost as badly as their eldest brother, George, did. She needed more than coffee and sweets to put him in his place.

She found, of all things, a cosy Irish pub. Midway through her half glass of wine and salmon, a crowd of boisterous men came stumbling inside. Their accents made her think they’d come from London, and she groaned internally when several of them spotted her sitting alone.

Not now, please don’t ruin my beautiful day with your nonsense.

“Buy you a drink, love?”

Sarah lifted her glass. “I’ve got one. Thanks.”

“Buy you another one?”

“No.”

“Stuck up twat.”

Sarah got to her feet, appetite gone. She started toward the door only to find her path block. “Could you move?”

“I just want to buy you a drink.” He had definitely had more than enough liquid courage. “What’s the harm?”

“I don’t want any trouble.” Sarah tried to back away from the drunks only to find herself in a far corner of the pub out of the view of the staff. She cursed her decision to visit a pub and not stick with a fancy restaurant. “Let go of my arm.”

The aggressive drunk leered toward her only to be yanked away from her a second later. He was sent careening into his friends. They stumbled into a wall of sober, muscled men who seemed familiar to her.

With a lot of shouting in French and English, the drunks cleared out fairly quickly. Sarah gripped the table to her left with her hands shaking. She breathed through her need to vomit up her dinner.

Tout va bien?”

Sarah found herself face to chest with Remi Chardin and her half a glass of wine gave her the idiotic courage to blurt out her first thought. “You’ve a really nice arse.”

His dark brown eyes stared intensely at her. “Merci.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” She hoped the dark lighting in the pub hid the faint tinge of pink on her cheeks and the slight trembling of her fingers. “As a way of saying thanks for being my hero.”

“Are you in Paris for long?”

“No.” Sarah found herself being led across the pub to a different secluded corner that had couches. She waved at what appeared to be most of the French rugby team. “Just another day.”

“Pity.” Remi ordered a fresh glass of wine for her and a beer for himself before guiding her to sit with him on one of the leather sofas. “Can I change your mind? I haven’t had enough time to tell if you’re as vibrant as your hair.”

“Ginger’s vibrant?”

“Red. Not ginger.” Remi made the word red sound sexual in a way that had Sarah chugging down her wine. “Surely another day won’t matter?”

And he said day as though he meant week.

Sarah bent forward, with the impulsive courage that had run in her family for years, and brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth. “Want to show me Paris?”

Nice Arse © 2018 by Dahlia Donovan


Nice Arse by Dahlia Donovan (PDF)

 

Author Friends: Ella Williams

Are you a panster or a plotter?

I do a basic plot outline. But I write where my heart feels, so if I feel like writing the last chapter when I am only five chapters into my book, I will do that.

Do you believe in Writer’s Block? If so, how do you kick its arse?

Writers block is just another form of stunted motivation. As a creative, it is easy to get sidetracked and let self-doubt get the better of you. I don’t stress when I am not motivated, I just jot down any ideas I do have and work on marketing or self promotion. There’s always something to do!
But if I take to long to get back to the keyboard, I try to remember how much I actually love writing.

What book is your comfort read on a bad day? The one you go back to reread over and over.

I stopped re-reading books when the Indie book community became so huge. I was too busy gobbling up all the new reads! So it’s not a book I will go to on a bad day, its a particular Author. And there are many that I favor, it’s dependent on what type of read I want; paranormal, contemporary, young adult, new adult, hot alpha… oh the list goes on. And of course I do have a long TBR.

Describe your perfect writing space:

Quiet early mornings at my dining room table when the juices are freshly flowing or One AM’s in bed when I get my second wind. But I also enjoy a picnic blanket in the park, some snacks and a handy laptop.

Do you write your title first or story first?

I’m either or. I could hear a word, think it would make a great title and then build a story around it. Or I could develop a story then chop and change till the right title comes to mind.

And lastly, write a one or two paragraph flash fiction inspired by the last photo or text you got on your phone

The cat sat in his bowl, patiently waiting for his human to pay him some attention. He licked his paw in anticipation of the meal ahead. The wait seemed endless in the chilly winter air. He let off a loud “Meow,” in pleading for his much-anticipated tuna.

After what seemed like five cat years his Human left her seat and joined Kitty in the kitchen. Human offered sweet-sounding platitudes that Kitty was sure was meant to soothe him after his lengthy wait for his meal. He hissed in response, angry at being ignored for so long. He stubbornly remained in the food bowl while Human attempted to lift him out. After allowing Human to hum compliments, of “How pretty you are Kitty,” followed by the human begging of kitty-strokes and chin tickles, Kitty decided a sufficient period of time had lapsed. Kitty finally relented and slowly and languorously stepped out of the bowl.

Kitty watched with a satisfied smirk as Human had to clean out the food bowl that was now filled with Kitty’s long black fur. Then came out the can of tuna. Kitty couldn’t help but purr at the smell invading his receptive nostrils, causing the most pleasurable anticipation. Now, this? This was the reason why Kitty tolerated Human. Every King needed his serf!

About the Author:

Ella Williams is a self published author of raw, sassy and slightly savage romance. Ella has years of experience slogging away in various education fields, but her ever thriving passion for reading led Ella on the path to becoming a writer.

Better late than never, Ella mostly known as E, Weezy or Mo-m, has a love of art and colour and anything idiosyncratic.

Ella lives in Cape Town South Africa with her high school sweetheart and husband , three of their five children, their googly-eyed puppy, two grumpy cats and of course their pet killer lobster. Their full house is never lacking in quirky inspirations and even weirder friendships. A mother and small business owner by day Ella cannot resist the call of the written word and is either reading or weaving a story by night.

She is always and forever a doodler, a dreamer and now a writer.

Nothing is more annoying than a hot guy who knows it.
He was off limits. Forbidden. My life was too afflicted. His life was too tied up in complications.
But then my world fell apart. Alone and adrift, I never guessed that one of my misadventures would turn into a night of discovery.
The instant pull left us breathless.
I wasn’t sure that I could handle the scrutiny, or the judgement in his eyes, if he knew how messed up my life was. Or whether, he could unravel his own messes.
Except, I was hooked on the promise of forever.

 


LINKS:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2HLyXXg

Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2pxFj1m

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