Category Archives: Blog Hop!

What’s Up Wednesday

Hey, all! It occurred to me on Monday that I should come up with a clever little name for one day of the week and blog religiously on that day. What’s Up Wednesday fit the bill, but it was Monday, so damn. Luckily I’m uber-slow and got hung up on a billion other tasks. I blinked and it’s Wednesday!  Like magic, baby!

As an aside, I did a search for What’s Up Wednesday and found this YA author had a weekly hop with the title a few years back. Seems to be defunct, but I’ll give her full credit, especially since she has some swell blog post ideas I’ll probably borrow at some point.

So, what have I been up to? Seems a legit topic to begin. For one, I’ve been working on starting a newsletter and polishing up a short story I plan to dangle in front of your clicking fingers to make you sign up, so get ready for that. It’s the only way to get your hands on my tale, “The Ferryman Cometh,” a dark paranormal erotic MMM, so a tad off my beaten path with that extra M. 😉 I’ll let you know when that’s ready to e-ship, likely by next Wednesday if not sooner.

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I’m self-editing “Balancing Act” right this second. I’m about 2/3 done and then I’ll get it to beta readers. It’s a tough edit because I am striving to keep it just under 40,000 words so it doesn’t jump to the next price point with my publisher. At the moment, I have maybe 300 words of wiggle room, so I’m essentially fucked, but still gonna give it my all. The problem is, when I’m writing dialog fast, I often omit the tags and then come in later and add a bit of meat to make it clear who’s speaking. Hopefully I won’t hit any major rough patches in the home stretch that will require, well, more words. 😛

Okay, that’s it for now. Stay tuned for more newsletter info coming shortly, and more general blogging on Wednesday. Heck, maybe I’ll go do some crunches while I’m on my self-improvement kick.
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-Kimber

 

 

 


Rockin’ Reads #Giveaway Blog Hop!

Everyone needs a Rockin’ Read! Stop by Sept 23rd to 30th and find out which reads have rocked 2015 for us! There will be a giveaway on each blog so don’t forget to visit them all!

rockin reads

Hey, everyone! Today marks the beginning of the Rockin’ Reads Hop, and I’m stoked to be a participant. Whoop!

This is the part of my post where I should gush over a romance that completely rocked my world in 2015. The catch is, I’ve been reading a lot of history lately (yes, non-fiction, but often that shit is stranger than fiction). I’ve been doing a bunch of beta reading for writerly pals, and reading gardening journals (cough, cough–nerd). I’m re-reading some early Patricia Cornwell because those were the days…

So, basically, I’m not going to gush over a romance, although I’ve read a number this year, just nothing that’s sticking out like a knife handle from my back.

Anyway, I have a few books in my queue I’m looking forward to–a couple of KJ Charles’ I need to catch up on, some old school het bodice rippers (I think I’m having a midlife crisis–this is a scream for help), some YA stuff (including The Outsiders because I’ve not read it, my oldest is going to be hitting that for English class, and I thought, hey, buddy read).

So, there you have it. Don’t hate me because I’m in a romance funk. I’ll find my way out eventually, I promise.

For my giveaway, I’ll send one lucky winner an e-copy of either Forever is Now or Double Takes, both rockstar reads that fit nicely with this hop theme, I think. To be eligible, just leave a book recommendation for me in the comments. I want my socks fucking knocked off. Ladies and gentlemen, start my engines. 😉

Oh, and don’t forget to visit all the stops in the below link! Freebies and recommendations out the wazoo! Think I’ll go check those out right now…

http://theherdhops.blogspot.com/2015/09/rockin-reads-giveaway-hop.html


Scream! For the Cure Coming Soon! #auction #books @FxCKCANCER

 

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Scream! For the Cure is an annual online auction to benefit cancer research. Every October, extremely talented and generous authors donate their time and books to raise money and awareness. This year’s auction proceeds are going to Dyin’ 2 Live, a non-profit wish granting program committed to helping those who are currently in the fight against cancer by giving them a one-of-a-kind experience that may be a source of hope, joy, and inspiration while they continue in their fight against these terrible diseases. Read more about Dyin’ 2 Live at their website: http://www.makingdreamshappen.org/

Scream! For the Cure was started in 2014 and raised nearly $400 for Stand Up 2 Cancer. Let’s make this year even better!

For a complete list of participating authors and to follow along with the auction and read guest posts from some of the participating authors, visit http://screamforthecure.wordpress.com.

About the founder:

Catherine Peace has been telling stories for as long as she could remember. Maybe even from the womb; no one knows for sure. Now, she writes delightful romances with enough spice to make Emeril happy when not masquerading as a normal person at the day job.

Website | Facebook | Twitter |Pinterest |Goodreads

 

Ready to bid on some fantastic books?

I’m so excited to be a part of this event! Dyin’ 2 Live has got to be the coolest wish-granting program ever–seriously, check their site out. They’ve sent cancer fighters to see and meet some of their favorite bands (including Avenged Sevenfold, Korn, and Five Finger Death Punch–so fucking cool!). What an amazing and totally worthwhile fundraiser! I hope you’ll consider checking it out and getting involved. 🙂

Kimber


Midsummer Madness #Flash #Fiction Blog Hop

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Happy 4th of July! We’ve got a flash fiction blog hop to celebrate, so I’ve tried for a freedom theme today.

It’s a love letter. I even dipped it in tea, not that you can tell with the assholish way I’m posting this. Eh. You may need to zoom in a bit.

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*441 words with a dash of artistic-license-stretchery in time period and tone (although I did read some flowery letters from the 20’s-40’s, so it all depends on the author). Anyway, I didn’t want the guy to end up with a lobotomy (in the 30’s the use of electric shock aversion therapy was just getting warmed up, but they didn’t start scooping people’s brains out until the 40’s). Also, jail was probably tougher to break out of than an old-school psychiatric facility. Maybe. I hope so for the sake of these two.

Here’s the easier-to-read version:

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July 2, 1933

My Dearest R,

I hope this note finds you as well as can be. It’s my greatest fear that our final farewell left you in a state of dejection, as it has me. The slurs aimed at you were beyond any I’d imagined when first we began our friendship. I confess here and now to my fear and weakness. I failed you. I hesitated to stand by your side throughout the accusations and vile threats. I’d hoped my tendencies would remain undiscovered as yours were paraded for the masses to ridicule.

I am the worst Judas.

Oh, R, my darling, I’ve regretted my inaction every moment since. My contrition is small consolation, I’m certain, while you languish in your wretched cell and endure all manner of humiliation. Good God! The experimentation the gossips describe! As if our kind are less than animals; senseless beasts deserving of hellish punishment, and the angelic whole of mankind shouldering the burden to rehabilitate us. I know your family intends to help you, but their aid is misguided.

We are not abominations, and we do not decide whom we love. It is thrust upon us like a dagger, or soaks our skin slowly as a spring mist, but no matter, the choice is never ours. It was not mine, but I’d choose you before a tribunal now, my sweet.

Would that I’d been so brave before.

My only peace is that I remain free to aid in your escape.

Mary, my cousin and constant companion, whom you met briefly, warns that a correspondence is far from prudent at this time, but her sources within the hospital reveal the most alarming conditions therein. I’ll not sit idle another moment while your fate lies in the hands of sadists who would break spirit or spine to keep you from loving another man.

If you still do…

Whatever your present mind, I’ll see you free from torture two days hence. Stay steadfast, my love. Ease their suspicion with lies and speak what is in your heart when you are once more in my arms. If your words crush me, it is all I deserve. If they echo the song my soul sings at the memory of your face, the whisper of your name, I swear my heart will take wing and together we will fly from this place.

You’ll know my sign when the bearer of this note makes contact again.

I will come for you, and together we’ll find freedom, no matter how far we must flee. With your hand in mine, I cannot tire.

And I’ll never again leave your side.

Always,

M

_________

Check out all the other flashers! Here’s the original hop call.


Halloween Flash Hop! #free #flash #fiction

It’s that time of year again; the time where my friend Heloise West organizes a flash fiction hop I signed up for long ago and thought I had plenty of time to get done and then I end up freaking out a bit when I realize my time it up.

It’s also that time of year where ghosts and goblins are out and about. I’m super excited to be the Twinkie house this year. I used to love the one house that gave Twinkies when I was a kid, and now all my adult dreams will be realized on Halloween night as I pass out assorted Little Debbies, Hostess, and Drakes’ Cakes. You should have seen the mom steering her toddler away from the mass-produced cream-filled pastry shelf (to the tune of “I want that!” and “No! We are not getting those!”) while I piled them into my cart. I told my hubby my Twinkie plan and he said, “I thought those were for us.” All ten boxes? That would make the disgusted look that woman gave me legit, tempting as those sweet cakes may be.

 

So, anyway, my flash…well, I did two. The first includes my boys, Kyrie and Greg (who will star in my NaNoWriMo bloodletting this year, so it was great to get back with them for a quickie–a little foreplay for next week,eh?). Horsing Around is just under 1200 words and is probably more vignette than flash.

My second offering is about 300 words and is straight up horror. If you aren’t jiggy with it, don’t read it. I just wanted a bit more bite for my All Hallows’ Eve.

 

Horsing Around

by K. Vale

copyright Kimber Vale

 

“No way. You’re not getting me in that thing.” Greg shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest in case Kyrie thought he’d be an easy push this time. Not happening.

“It took me two trips to get all of Mr. Ed home. Tuesday was your end and Wednesday I lugged my half. It was a total bitch.” Kyrie heaved the goofy brown horse head in the air to demonstrate.

Seriously, what play did the theater company ever use that atrocity for?

“I got trapped on the subway when I couldn’t get this huge freakin’ head through the crowd.” His voice climbed as he waved Pinto the wonder horse in Greg’s face.  “I had to walk the three blocks back with this thing looking over my shoulder. With people staring at me! We’re not not wearing it!”

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“Halloween Night” by koratmember via freedigitalphotos.net

Like Kyrie didn’t love people staring at him.

“Well I’m really not wearing it. You do what you like.”

“It’s because you’re the backside, isn’t it? Come on.” Kyrie smirked. “That’s perfect for you.”

“So now I’m an ass for not wanting to dress like one?” Greg scowled in warning. I can’t believe this is gonna be a fight.

Kyrie clicked his tongue and dropped the horse head to press up against Greg’s chest. Apparently Plan A to convince Greg wasn’t working. Maybe Plan B involved a blow job; Greg might even find himself cantering down 5th Street later tonight, in that case.

“No, silly. I wanted you behind me because that’s where I love ya best. Then you could be grabbin’ my ass all night.” He wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips.

Greg sighed and cupped the ass in question. “I was planning to do that in my cowboy hat and jeans. I’ll throw on a bandana if you’re after a little incognito role play.” He drew Kyrie closer. “It’s a costume video game tournament—we couldn’t even leave that thing on to play. Plus it’s pouring out, Kyr.”

“Lawyers.” Kyrie rolled his eyes.

A spike of electricity arced across the Manhattan skyline and touched down on the Empire State Building’s lightning rod as if an exclamation point for Greg’s words. He grinned. “We’d be a soggy mess in all that fur.” Greg leaned over, nibbling Kyrie’s lips to apply his own brand of persuasion while outside thunder boomed loud enough to rattle  the glasses on the wet bar. “It’d weigh a ton.” Kiss. “Costume would get ruined.” Kiss, kiss, kiss. Of course, just tasting Kyrie always lit Greg’s fuse, and within seconds their tongues were slipping together, breath catching as Greg pulled their bodies as close as physics allowed. He kissed down Kyrie’s neck and across his collarbone, loving the soft sounds of surrender Kyr made.

“We could just stay home and play horse, if you want.” Greg slipped a hand between their bodies to get a rub on both their budding erections.

“Liv’ll be mad if we don’t come.”

I’ll be mad if we don’t come.” Greg unbuttoned Kyrie’s tight pants and inched down the barrier between them until his fingers found the slick tip of Kyrie’s cock. Thunder clapped around them again.

Kyrie trembled and groaned. “You know I’m always rarin’ to ride you all night long, stud.”

“Giddy up. Liv can just miss us.” Greg fisted Kyrie’s cock, hugging tight as he pumped him slow. Silky skin slipped over Kyrie’s hot head and back down again.

“Mmmm.” Kyrie flirted his tongue over Greg’s lips while he worked Greg’s pants open. “Remember that time on the dining room table?”

“It’s a favorite of mine.”

“Well, it hardly seems right that none of those chairs have seen any action.”

“True. We never even eat over there, forget about fucking.”

“I can be old and shriveled and forget my name, but I never wanna forget about fucking.” Kyrie shook his head solemnly as he slicked a thumb over Greg’s wet slit. “Raw, dirty fucking. Sweet, soul-squeezin’ fuckin’. Fast and furious fucking.” He dropped to his knees and looked up at Greg with laughing amber eyes.

Oh, the fucking was phenomenal, but Greg wanted those eyes forever burned in his feeble old brain.

“Suck you so good you wanna put on a horse costume kinda fucking…”

“Ah haaaahhh…” Greg tried to be indignant but instead he drooled on himself as Kyrie swallowed his entire length.

Lightning lit up the night sky like July sun. The lights browned, recovered, and then cut out completely.

“Shit.” Greg breathed heavily into the sudden silence. What had been making noise? The refrigerator? Weird how he’d thought it was quiet before. “Didn’t see that coming.”

Kyrie’s mouth pulled off Greg’s dick. He stood, feeling his way up Greg’s body as if he’d be lost in the boundless sea of their black condo without continuous contact. “Pretty sure I’m not gonna see anything coming. Hoping I’ll still feel it, though.”

Greg imagined a whiskey colored eye winking up at him.

“Aren’t you glad we’re not on a train right now? Or stuck at Liv’s if they lost power too?”

“Yeah. Electricity’s an important sponsor of Halloween Gamer Bowl. Without it, the games just aren’t the same.” Kyrie shifted and fabric wisped over Greg’s fingers before naked skin replaced cotton. “I just wish I’d grabbed the lube before the lights…went down…in the cit-tay.” He did a damn good Steve Perry.

“Probably just a transformer. I still see some power out there. Or maybe that’s generators.” Greg reached up to where he thought Kyrie’s head would be and brushed over his ear before adjusting to run his fingers over soft shorn hair. “I can rustle up a flashlight for that lube, though.”

“Much obliged, partner, but I’m not against roughin’ it once in a while, provided you don’t need no newfangled electric to hock a loog.” Now Greg apparently had a Texas longhorn standing in front of him. The longhorn still felt very much like Kyrie’s though. Saliva pooled in Greg’s mouth as he gripped their pricks with both hands and Kyr’s fingers joined the party.

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” He slipped one hand over Kyrie’s hip before sliding back to knead his ass. “Think we can make it to the dining room without breaking any toes?”

“Yeehaw.” Kyrie let go of Greg’s dick and took his hand.

A tremor of excitement ripped through him. He could barely wait for the answering clap of thunder. Grinning, he let Kyr lead him through the darkness. He went willingly; he always did when Kyrie took his hand.  And of course Greg grabbed the sweet ass in front of him every step of the way.

 

————

Shhhhh

By Kim

copyright Kimber Vale

 

"Evil Roaring" by hyena reality via freedigitalphotos.net

“Evil Roaring” by hyena reality via freedigitalphotos.net

He dissects his work with one sharp, critical eye. The remnants of its match hide under a frayed brown patch, and I picture a squint of skin over the occluded void. I marked him once. I relive it often; taste salted metal in my mouth while he toys with me. His shouts and slurs still echo in my head. It’s my one miniscule comfort as I cower on a soiled seat, cut adrift in a hell no God could imagine.

“Damn it!” He spits when he speaks. I flinch, but my bonds—arms, wrists, ankles, and the odious strap anchoring my head—make for barely more than a blink. “Missed a stitch right there.” He points and his finger flits over my lip. Fire blooms under the slight pressure. I would cry. I used to, but dehydration shut down the waterworks yesterday. Or maybe the day before. That’s fine. The first day he licked them from my cheeks and I retched behind my sutures.

The low moan I eternally exhale, raw meat throat or no, grows louder with each rip of the half-scabbed seam. Finally, my mouth is open, upper lip pelting lower with blood raindrops from bruised sky skin in the warped light-fixture-reflection before me. I gulp in air and vomit rusty screams for four ears only. I wish he’d come closer. I’d make it three.

He preps his needle again, hands sluggish as he focuses on my face instead of the lone silver eye trapped between his calloused fingers. He shushes me with his lips at first. Then he adds the cold push of steel and the burning rasp of thread. One fresh stitch at a time I fall silent but for my moans, swallowing down salted metal harsh as barbed wire. I don’t shed a single tear.

 

 

Let all of these other hoppers flash you, too!

October 26:

http://www.jenawade.com/blog/

http://alittlebitofnaughty.blogspot.com/

October 27:

http://ndwylders.blogspot.com/

http://ameliabishop.wordpress.com/

October 28

http://alexisduranblog.com/

http://sexyforreview.blogspot.com/

October 29:

https://kimbervale.me/

http://www.jennahscott.com/

October 30:

http://jthallwriting.wordpress.com/

http://chrismchart.com/

October 31:

http://wordsthatburnlikefire.wordpress.com/

http://skyejonesromanceblog.wordpress.com/

http://velvetpanic2.wordpress.com/

 

http://skyejonesromanceblog.wordpress.com/

 

 

 

http://new.inlinkz.com/luwpview.php?id=433448

 


Fright Night Blog Hop! #giveaway

Join us for a little Halloween fun in the Fright Night blog hop! Stop by each blog to check out their favorite paranormal or spooky reads and enter their giveaways!

 

This is a tall order. I grew up inhaling Stephen King and Dean Koontz (okay, and bodice rippers and classics–books in general, now that I think of it). Still, it’s tough to pick creepy favorites. Also, this hop has a focus on romance (I think?), so my entire favorites list probably shouldn’t consist of straight-up horror.

But it’s tempting. 😉

I’ll do my best to mix and match, at least. These stories are in no particular order, just recommended reads for their creep factor–some more so than others. Some are also recommended for their action/adventure/ass-grabbing.

Coraline by Neil Gaimancoraline

Pet Sematary by Stephen King

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll (don’t even try to tell me this isn’t scary)

Dead Witch Walking by Kim Harrison

The Magpie Lord by KJ Charles

City of Bones by Cassandra Clare

Dracula by Bram Stoker

poeThe Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allen Poe

 

How do you like that? I’ve got horror–both classic and contemporary–kid books, teenager stuff, and spookyish smut. Something for everyone! Happy Halloween, boys and girls!

And now, I’m obligated to tell you that I’m giving away a book of my own to celebrate both this hop and the coolest holiday of the year. Leave a comment and you’ll be in the running to receive an e-copy of my latest release, Hard Act to Follow. No, it isn’t scary, but it does have a one-eyed cat and Kyrie does enjoy dressing up.

Follow this blog and I’ll throw your name in the random.org hat twice.

 

What the hell? I’ll also toss in a pdf of Horror-tica, which is no longer available on Amazon, so that’s rather fancy. Two giveaways for the price of…well, free.

 

Includes my smutty horror short “Dirty Dahlia.”

 

 

And lastly, don’t forget to check out the other hoppers for more fabu recommendations and giveaways! 

-Kimber


You Can Bank on It! Guest Post by Liza O’Connor

 

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Book 1 Prize Banner2

 

You can bank on it!

The formations of banks in England began in the 17th century (1694) when Parliament created the Bank of England as a source of funding defense spending.

Modern checks or cheques can be traced to Banker Lawrence Child in 1762.  The use of checks quickly brought the need for clearing facilities, security investments and of, course, overdraft protection. By 1893, many of Xavier’s clients pay by check for his services.

Two immigrant families (Rothchild and Barings) formed Merchant banks that catered to international trading. Due to Britain’s world dominance in trading, both families became very wealthy and soared into society.

Lady anne smallThe unfortunate Lady Anne that Vic rescues in The Troublesome Apprentice is a Rothchild, albeit far removed from the source of Rothchild power. It is no doubt why Lord Conrad had Chesterfield make her a prostitute serving an entire club of men. Naturally the other branches of the family would be horrified and cut all ties with her, thus leaving her without their potential protection.

The 19th century brought forth truly National banks with multiple branches in the first half of the century.  Thus, when Vic witnesses a crime committed at a branch office of a bank, you can rest assured they existed and poor Vic wasn’t drunk from her sip of brandy she had taken just before the crime occurred.

In 1866 and 1878, two banks collapsed causing a confidence crisis in banking. As a result, bankers began to take accounting and record keeping very seriously.  Huge bureaucracies formed requiring a board of directors and a great deal of supervision over the accounting clerks.  If Vic had chosen to go into banking as originally planned, given her time at Oxford, she would have probably spent a year as a clerk, learning the process and then moved into a supervisor role.  It would have been a very dull occupation and she would have hated it.  Thank goodness Xavier offered her a job as his secretary with the promise to not to fire her for three months.

I fear I would have been uninspired to write her story if she had gone into banking. Instead, Vic becomes a sleuth and never have I had more fun writing a story than this series.

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The Adventures of

Xavier & Vic

Book 1

The Troublesome Apprentice

By Liza O’Connor

Cases to be Resolved:

The Key to Aunt Maddy’s Death

The Missing Husband of Mrs. Wimple

The Disappearing Scarlet Nun

The Clever Butcher’s Wife

The Rescue of Lady Anne

 

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While investigating the death of a friend and client, Maddy Hamilton, Xavier Thorn (reputed to be the greatest sleuth in England) is greatly impressed with Maddy’s nephew, Victor, and offers him a job as his secretary. Aware of Xavier’s history of firing secretaries, Victor garners a promise that for three months he cannot be fired. Vic then proceeds, in Xavier’s view, to be cheeky and impertinent at every turn. Xavier endures the impudent pup because Victor is most skilled in extracting the truth from clients and intuiting facts with little evidence to assist.

As they solve a string of cases, Xavier discovers a few more important details about his troublesome apprentice, such as her true gender, and the realization that she has awakened his long dormant heart.

An Excerpt

Vic sighed with relief upon sight of the Remington in Xavier’s office. Her science professor at Oxford had declared her handwriting illegible and suggested she learn to type. Instead of taking insult, she’d investigated the myriad of typing machines currently available and settled on the same one Xavier had chosen.

She had just finished retyping the third letter when Xavier’s hands settled on her shoulders and he leaned forward to study her work. He remained bare-chested and in his silk sleeping pants and smelled wonderfully masculine, a mixture of musk and tobacco.

“Did I give you permission to enter my office?” he asked, clearly in a better mood, despite his provoking question.

“Implicitly you did, for you told me to retype the letter and, since you possess the only machine in the office, one can reasonably presume permission to enter the room it resides in order to complete your request.” Vic stopped talking because his hands remained on her shoulders and they caused a stirring within her. When he did not counter-challenge her observation, she continued. “Now, if you will give me the combination to your safe, I will retrieve the checkbook, deposit slips, and money required to complete the other tasks.”

He laughed outright while his hands encircled her neck as if he planned to strangle her. “Not bloody likely.” He loosened his grip, but did not release her. “I understand your need of the checkbook and deposit slips, but would you care to explain your need to pilfer my money?”

“We are out of stamps.”

“Ah…a false assumption. If you had checked my desk drawer, you would have found the necessary stamps.” He returned his hands to her shoulders.

She turned and frowned at him, trying to ignore his naked chest and focus on his sparkling eyes and beautiful hawk nose. “I would have expected you to keep your desk drawer locked.”

“Right you are, and you will not receive a key to that either.”

“Perhaps you could remove the stamps from your drawer and give them to my care, since I have need of them and you do not.”

He retracted his warm hands from her shoulders and a chill settled in their absence. After making a great fuss over opening the drawer, he presented her with stamps, placing them into her hand. “Do not lose them.”

She laughed at him as she rose. “Are you always so obliging in the mornings? I would have thought otherwise.”

“I seem to find myself in better spirits than normal,” he admitted. “No doubt due to your early arrival.”

lINKS

The Troublesome Apprentice

Amazon

Read Free With Kindle Unlimited

About the author

I’m tired of telling my proper bio. So you get the improper bio.

Liza O’Connor was raised by feral cats, which explains a great deal, such as why she has no manners, is always getting in trouble, and doesn’t behave like a proper author and give you a proper bio.

She is highly unpredictable, both in real life and her stories, and presently is writing humorous romances. Please buy these books, because otherwise, she’ll become grumpy and write troubled novels instead. They will likely traumatize you.

Mostly humorous books by Liza:

Saving Casey – Old woman reincarnates into troubled teen’s body. (Half funny/half traumatizing)

Ghost LoverTwo British brothers fall in love with the same young woman. Ancestral ghost is called in to fix the situation. There’s a ghost cat too. (Humorous Contemporary Romance)

A Long Road to Love Series: (Humorous Contemporary odd Romance)

Worst Week Ever — Laugh out loud week of disasters of Epic proportions.

Oh Stupid Heart — The heart wants what it wants, even if it’s impossible.

Coming to Reason — There is a breaking point when even a saint comes to reason.

Climbing out of Hell — The reconstruction of a terrible man into a great one.

Social Networking

FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT

LIZA O’CONNOR, XAVIER & VIC:

Investigate these sites:

Liza’s Blog and Website   Facebook   Twitter

Prior Tour Sites

 

Don’t forget to enter to win one of the two $25 Amazon Gift Cards.

Enter Rafflecopter

 

 

 


Summer Reads Blog Hop #SummerReadsHop $100 Gift Card #Giveaway & More!

Much, much more!

Summer’s in full swing! Come in out of the heat and check out our favorite Summer Reads! Each blog will feature their favorites and a giveaway so visit them all! Plus there’s a Grand Prize giveaway happening too!

Woo hoo! Who doesn’t love a good book, a warm breeze, and a drink with a tiny umbrella in it? That’s the recipe for summer magic, I tell ya!

To celebrate summer (sure, my kids are driving me bananas and I want to stab summer with a thousand serrated knives, but don’t let me whiz on the party), I’m giving away a signed copy of Nasty Boys! See? I said summer magic, right? Well, it’s at least a summer miracle, because I avoid the post office like I avoid running into chatty neighbors at the grocery store.

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Includes my short “Johnny and Clyde.”

So, comment and follow my blog if you don’t already, and I’ll tally up the names and shove them in a Random.org blender after <scrolls up to see when this blog hop ends> July 23rd! And then I’m going to the damn post office with three kids in tow! Hell yeah!

P.S. I’ll only ship to the 48 contiguous U.S. states. I know–so not fair. But life rarely is. If you live somewhere other than here, and you win, I’ll give you an e-book of your choice, okay? Friends? Good.

And if I run into any chatty neighbors at the post office, I am going to be so flippin’ pissed.

 

Now, go click the link below for more fabulous prizes, namely a grand prize $100 Amazon Gift Card and not-too-shabby second place $30 Amazon Gift Card. Word to your moms.

 

Grand Prize:

Don’t forget to check out all of the giveaways and summer reading recommendations! 🙂

 

 

Thanks for playing and happy summer reading! 😉

-Kimber


The Hot Summer Flash Blog Hop! #free #stories #flashfiction

Hi, everyone! Today is the House of Manlove Flash Hop! So exciting! A group of authors have each written an original flash piece, 1200 words or less, and are posting them on their individual blogs today. Some may be characters/worlds you are already familiar with from previous works. Some, like mine, may be brand new.

There are two types of stories floating around for this hop: Fourth of July– The Freedom to Marry (established couples) and Midsummer Madness (summer flings). For my 900+ words (I’m tired of recalculating my word count every time I tweak it), I did an established couple, of sorts. Read on to find out what I’m talking about. 🙂

 

Black Granite Wall

By K. Vale

Copyright Kimber Vale

 

Left. Left. Left, right, left. The cadence was stilted and sluggish, a lifetime away from the march of his youth. It was the subdued shuffle of a sixty-three-year-old man, made all the less brisk by the ancient knee wound that hurt worse on rainy days such as this. Still, cane in hand, Gary listened to the drill sergeant in his head, his destination calling forth memories from decades ago. Basic training. Boots and uniforms. Good times, and then guns. Bruce. Bruce. Bruce.

How they’d played at being men, before the war taught them that being men was an ugly job. It showed them that staying young meant you didn’t have to kill or be killed. You didn’t have to wake to the sound of shells and screams, whether real or only—blessedly—in your dreams.

Bruce.

You didn’t have to die in a tomb-dark jungle lit only by the violent back and forth of F1s and M26s. You didn’t have to take your last breath with swarms of mosquitoes angling for a sip before your blood thickened too much for their greedy tastes, and they flew off to the next course in their ample buffet.

The sole good to come of those two boys playing at men was that they had loved like men.

You go, I go. Gary closed his eyes against the steady mist and remembered touching Bruce’s youth-soft face as he made the promise. And then Bruce had gone for good, and Gary had gone home with a shattered knee.

The wall seemed to go on and on before bending at a right angle. As if the world couldn’t hold all those names in a straight shot. The black slab would fall off the ends of the earth before the last martyr was carved into it. Too many. Far too many.

Oh, the stories those voices would tell. All different, but all with the same tragic ending.

He ran his hands over the names, knowing he could search for many with whom he’d shared canned meals, borrowed time, and kid fears. The ones who had come home to their mamas in a zippered pouch instead of a wheelchair, as he had.

Bruce Klein. Tears filled his eyes and spilled down already damp cheeks, mingling with the rain like long-lost lovers. He traced the name with his finger as he’d traced Bruce’s lips so long ago, and then placed his palm flat against the stone.

Wet and smooth, like Bruce’s helmet had been when Gary found him and lifted it off to cradle his head in his lap. Life had already guttered out—no time for goodbyes and deathbed promises. But his skin was still warm. His eyes still vibrant blue as Gary gently lowered his lids and showered him in grief.

Time heals all wounds, or so the saying goes. Maybe that was true, but the scars never disappeared. They’d been etched in his heart as permanently as the fallen had been inscribed on this wall.

He stood for what seemed like years, leaning on black granite instead of his cane, replaying the flash of too-brief time he’d had with his best friend. His first love.  Finally, he felt as if he could speak.

“Bruce.” It was a whisper nearly lost to the patter of rain, but Gary knew the intended ears could hear him. Somewhere. Somehow. “I came to tell you my news. See, we’re here on vacation. Mostly, so I could come here, but D.C. has a lot to do. Got a nice little suite in a bed and breakfast, and we’re just takin’ it easy for a week. It’s our honeymoon, B.” His voice broke and fresh tears burned, flooded, and dropped.

“Who would have guessed, right? Way back when we were sneaking around? Now guys like us are gettin’ married all over the place. It’s a new world. You would have loved it. You would have loved him.”

Gary tipped his head up and stared into vast gray clouds, letting the heavens cry down on him, feeling washed clean by it all.

“That’s really all I came to say, B. That, and I miss you. I love you. I always will. And Glenn? He’s good with that. I think he loves you in his own way, too. Loves you for the stories I’ve told him.” He patted the stone with a wet slap. “Loves you for making me the man I am.” He swallowed over the lump in his throat. “Loves you just because I do.”

He stepped back and kissed his palm, placed it over Bruce Klein with a sniff and a soggy smile.

“Wherever you are now, buddy, they’re lucky to have you. I was so lucky to have you.”

Gary raised his right hand sharply, index finger barely touching his temple, and elbow at a 45-degree angle. He stood there, back straight and chest puffed out for only a moment before he dropped the salute.

“AMF.” Gary smiled with the derogatory goodbye. Adios, motherfucker. It was slang their unit had used heavily, as normal as a pat on the back and a see ya. Bruce knew. Somewhere, he was nodding, that old childhood scar on his cheek creasing as he grinned down on Gary and then pulled a Lucky Strike from behind his ear and lit it up, squinting as smoke curled toward his eyes.

Gary turned and picked his way back through the rain, gauging each step on the wet stone. The slick grass. Slow and steady as the hands of a clock.

Left. Left. Left, right, left.

——————–

 

Don’t forget to check out the other flashers! 🙂

 


Kisses! XXX #giveaways #sneakpeek

Yes, I’m taking part in two blog hops today, but gosh darnit, I couldn’t resist! Covergasms and kisses? Could this day get any freakin’ better? My Covergasm post will go live in a few hours, and I’ve got a Rafflecopter giveaway going on after this post, so check it out!

Anyway, I love a good kiss, and when it’s got an adorable British accent and is called a snog instead, I melt like butta, baby. The fab Kev “Mitnik” Blisse and Victoria Blisse are hosting a Snog by the Sea. Lovely! Check the deets below to enter to win some fun prizes:

This Blog is part of Snog by the Sea over at http://blissekiss.co.uk/snog-by-the-sea/. Leave a comment to go into the Prize Draw for UK winners you can win 2 All-Day Smut by the Sea Tickets for you and a friend or for our international visitors we have a mystery eBook bundle you can win with books from some of the hottest names in Erotica.

For my own part, I suppose I’ll share a snog from my upcoming book, Shooting Stars 3. Kyrie and Greg’s book is due out on August 18th! I’m so flippin’ excited! And no, I won’t divulge the title yet. Bwahahah! >;-)

Here’s a not-formally-edited, first smoochie-boochie:

 

The hand on his leg inched higher and squeezed while Kyrie grasped the glass over Greg’s fingers and led it to his lips.

“Drink up.”

Greg opened his mouth and managed to take a sip without choking, miracle of miracles.

“Good dog.” Kyrie grinned wickedly less than a foot from Greg’s face. He took the beer back and brought it to his own lips, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to lick the glass where Greg’s mouth had just been.

Greg almost whimpered as Kyrie sucked back a mouthful, his gaze glued to Greg’s the whole while.

Like porn when the chick maintains eye contact while giving head. Wonder if guys do that in gay movies. Despite the strange sexual attraction simmering inside him—the one that had him jerking off to visions of Kyrie way too often, Greg hadn’t had the balls to look for gay stroke films. He wasn’t even sure he’d find them appealing. He’d never even considered sleeping with men until Kyrie came along and flipped his world over like a sore loser tossing a board game.

All he knew was Kyrie’s puckered lower lip wrapped erotically around the bottle top. Paired with his gorgeous, almost challenging golden-brown stare, it sent a surge of blood to Greg’s dick so hot and fast it made him lightheaded.

“What are you looking at?” It was too close to Greg’s dream. Way too fucking close. And so was Kyrie. But instead of Greg reaching out and grasping nothing but ghost, Kyrie’s hand on his thigh pressed hard, real and reassuring. Instigating. It slid slowly inside and up while Kyrie lifted his eyebrows in question, his sweet mouth forming a tiny O that made Greg desperate to kiss him.

Greg tried to swallow, but the lump in the back of his throat didn’t move—wouldn’t allow for speech. He took a shallow breath that caught when Kyrie’s pinky wisped over his hard head. Kyrie placed the beer on the coffee table with his free hand while that little finger flirted over Greg’s ridge like it was reading Braille. Reading Greg’s perverted mind through his khakis.

“Kyr—” he croaked.

“Shhh” Kyrie leaned closer, a full hand stroking up Greg’s hard-on. “Don’t.” His lips skimmed across Greg’s, warm, soft, and tremor inducing. Greg inhaled sharply, maybe to work out a final cry for reason, but any remaining resistance fell away as Kyrie’s familiar scent overwhelmed him. Instead, he groaned as that knowledgeable hand squeezed him through his pants, and those seductive lips, a bare hint of stubble peppered above the upper one, touched down again to ply and cajole without words.

———–

I’m giving away an e-copy of a novel from my backlist! Winner will be chosen via Random.org on 6/13. Open all over the world and on most planets in our solar system, including Pluto. Hit the Rafflecopter below to throw your tokens in!
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