Friday, November 7, 2014

Lakeland Witches Trilogy by KD Grace

Giveaway: And to help me celebrate the relaunch of The Lakeland Witches Trilogy, I’m giving away a $50/£30 Amazon gift voucher. Enter via the Rafflecopter at the bottom of the post!  
Every Character Has a Story by K D Grace (@kd_grace)

Thanks so much for having me on your wonderful blog, Erzabet! It’s a real pleasure to be here and share the last day of the Lakeland Witches Trilogy blog tour with you and your fabulous readers.
I’d like to talk about my wordiness – you know, the kind of thing that would allow someone to graduate from writing short stories, to novels, to trilogies to series. Move over Game of Thrones J Although I’ll be the first to say, I do love to talk, and I do love to spin a good, naughty yarn, I can’t completely take the credit for bridging that chasm between a novel and a trilogy and beyond. I remember when I first realized that Body Temperature and Rising actually had to be a trilogy.

 I was terrified! I didn’t want to write a trilogy. I wanted to wrap everything up in a nice little 80,000 word package with a sexy cover and have it all done and dusted. But my characters, including my formidable villain, Deacon, weren’t having it. Deacon had no intention of letting Tara Stone and the Elemental Coven off the hook after only 80K! What kind of a wimpy villain can only be tough for one novel???  He was way too evil and mysterious and contradictory to be wrapped up in one book. But it wasn’t just Deacon’s refusal to get with the one-novel program that spurred me on to my first trilogy, shaking in my walking boots as I went. It was the fact that every single person in the Elemental Coven had a story to tell. I was only through with the first two chapters of Body Temperature and Rising before I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Anderson’s story would have to be told. And, of course, if Deacon is really holding a very long-term grudge on Tara Stone, the Elemental Coven’s formidable leader, then her story would have to be told in conjunction with his.
Within the context of telling the stories of Anderson and Tara, of course, Cassandra and Kennet would have to become major players, but what about Alice, and Fiori and Sky? What about Ferris, the mysterious man set to protect Cassandra by unknown forces? Ferris showed up out of the clear-blue in Riding the Ether, Anderson and Cassandra’s story.

 Ferris had the wonderful ability to be totally unassuming to the point people would forget he was there. But Ferris had secrets, Ferris had magic of his own, Ferris was a formidable fighter and – who knew such an unpretentious man could be so damned good in bed???

It was when I finished the Lakeland Witches trilogy that I realized there were other stories to be told, that the coven had a rich history and each character had a story that needed and wanted to be shared. I chose Ferris’s story as a little experiment – a serial that would unfold on my blog at regular intervals, a serial that turned out to be nearly a novel-length novella. The final episode was just posted on Halloween on the last day of my Things that Go Hump in the Night Blog Party. Demon Interrupted, Ferris’s story was a total surprise to me. I really did start out without a clue why a man would deliberately choose not to remember any of his past, and I got way more than I bargained for. Hopefully readers will have too. I hope while you’re checking out the Lakeland Witches Trilogy, that you’ll also go on over to my blog and enjoy Ferris’s story. It’s free, it’s complete, and it’s scary, sexy.

I also hope that there’ll be more visits with the Lakeland Witches in the future. There are so many more stories there to be told, and I love to hang out with the witches and their friends at Elemental Cottage in the gorgeous English Lake District. I hope you’ll join me there.
Demon Interrupted Blurb:
What secrets does a man have when he chooses to live under a spell that magically erases his past? When that spell is broken Ferris Ryder must choose to remember all that he was, all that he has done and all that drove him to willingly forget. If he chooses not to remember, the consequences will be dire for himself and the Elemental Coven, who are now his family.
Is the mysterious Elaine, who both fears and desires Ferris, a ghost with a past all her own, or merely a figment of his fevered dreams as he struggles against time to remember the past he fears or destroy the very people for whom he chose to forget.
Demon Interrupted Excerpt:
In a room full of people Ferris could remain totally unnoticed. It was almost as though he were invisible. He heard things that way, saw things that others missed. Fiori suspected that was part of his magic. However, at the moment, he was completely and totally the centre of her attention as his warm, wet tongue teased its way down and around the puckered peaks and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. One splayed hand cupped and fondled her tight pubic curls while the other worried open his fly. What he was doing to her body was also a part of his magic and way more of a surprise, considering the man’s unassuming nature, than his ability to blend in.

She writhed beneath him totally naked, just as she had been when he entered her room, gently easing her out of a bad dream, back into the Waking World, and into his arms. She didn’t know where he’d been before he came to her. The man seldom slept -- and him not even a ghost. He might have adjourned to the library after the rest of the house had entered the Dream World, or perhaps he had been in Skye’s bed sharing pleasure with her and Alice. He was generous with his affections. But then he’d hardly fit in at Elemental Cottage if he were otherwise.

How he had known she was having the dream again? How had he known about the dream at all? And yet he did, and she was glad that he came to her. ‘Sh! sh. It’s only a dream, Fiori,’ he whispered. ‘Only a dream.’ He’d brought her a glass of water from the bathroom and had returned with a soft white towel. While she drank as though she had just traversed the desert, he gently wiped the perspiration from her face and her shoulders. Then he took the glass away and moved the soft terrycloth knap in slow lazy circles down her back and her ribs as she slid into his arms, laying her head against his shoulder.

‘Do you want me to stay with you?’ he asked.

She only nodded, tightening her arms around his neck.

His black shirt was open and untucked and his nipples hardened as she slid her arms inside and up his back.

‘Do you want me to make love to you?’ He asked it as simply as a parent would ask a child if she would like a bedtime story. He asked it because he knew in a house where sex magic was practiced, healing came in the form of passion, and she nodded again because she knew that too. His cock was already hard, but then she had noticed that it often was. In those times when he allowed attention to be drawn to himself, in those times when he made his presence known he neither attempted to hide his erection nor did he attempt to flaunt it. It was the ease and the comfort with which he wore his own masculinity that made him seem like a much larger man than he really was. In spite of his chameleon nature, he was not shy by any means, and his stamina and his finesse made him a welcome edition to the beds of all of the Elemental witches and their consorts.

Impatient for the feel of him freed, she shoved at his trousers, the scrape of the zipper seeming unusually loud in the quiet room. He ran his hand down to aid her as she worried his cock free. He was neither large nor small. Even his cock was nothing unusual to draw attention to itself, and yet there was no one at Elemental Cottage who didn’t relish the thought of Ferris between their legs, of Ferris shifting and grinding as though his unassuming penis had a secret magic all its own once properly sheathed in an appreciative pussy or mouth or arsehole.

His breath caught with a grunt as she fisted the length of him and she could almost feel the ripples of lust rising up the vertebrae of his spine. For a second he wrapped his hand around hers and shifted his hips. Then he pulled her fingers free, kissing each one of them, running his tongue in ticklish strokes over the tips, making her hips rock against the mattress. ‘I’m going to taste you now. I can already smell how good you’ll be.’ With a wriggle of his arse and a shove with his feet he shed his trousers as he crawled down between her thighs, nudging her open with the smoothly shaven wedge of his jaw, clearing the way with nose and lips, teeth and tongue. The humidity of his breath blew across her clit, which rose up in anticipation.

‘There,’ he said, his fingers parting her as agilely and exactingly as if he were a pianist and she were his instrument. For an age he studied her, fingered her, arranged her as though there were only one way, the best way to approach her dark, heavy folds, and he would not partake until he knew exactly what would bring all of her focus, all of her energy, all of her arousal to the very centre of his attention. ‘And now --’ his words were little more than a rush of breath ‘--I’ll give you what you need.’ He took her with his whole mouth, hunched over her like a lion at his prey, the muscles of his shoulders bunched tight, dusted and gilded in moonlight. And she felt the bloom of her arousal like a bud swelling, bursting, opening. Then the bloom became an explosion rising up from someplace suspended above the base of her spine. He held her hips, held her steady with strength his body belied as she bucked against his mouth, as she convulsed, as the moon moved in and out amid the undulation of slate clouds.

In the hazy vision of heat he seemed larger than himself, much larger than himself as though his arousal, their arousal together had released something broader of shoulder, deeper of chest, darker of memory and, as the moon disappeared, the power of him rose like a shadow thick and all-consuming and, somehow, other than himself. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Gooseflesh prickled over her breasts, even as she rocked out her orgasm against his mouth.

But before the tingle of uncertainty and the edge of fear could take hold, the moon reappeared and unassuming Ferris gave her clit on last hard tug with his lips and then rose over her, positioning himself, easing her open with his knees and his hips.

‘I need you in me,’ she said, her voice nearly lost in her struggle for oxygen.

‘A need which I share,’ came his urgent reply. It took no more than the tucking of his hips and a single thrust and he was in deep. She was slick and ready for him, gripping him as though she hadn’t just come, as though she were desperate for him to take her. With arms much stronger than they looked, he lifted her legs around his hips and positioned himself so that with each thrust he raked her clit, and she could almost swear that in the stark relief of moonlight and shadow his eyes were onyx black and yet bright, so bright. Even in the glow of a nearly full moon, he rode her in the light of an after image that made no sense, and she was reminded that not even Ferris understood his own magic. The closer they both came to orgasm the larger and heavier the after image grew. And the larger the after image, the harder they strained for release. When orgasm broke over them, so did the shadow, consuming them for the briefest of moments and then receding behind their own efforts to recover themselves taking with it Fiori’s urge to speak of it, to question it.

About K D Grace/Grace Marshall
Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?
When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.
K D has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and others.
K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.
K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition are all available.
Find K D Here:                      

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1 comment:

  1. Thanks SO much for having me and the witches over. It was truly enchanting to be here, Erzabet.



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