Sunday, July 10, 2016

K.S. Thomas featured author of the week.

This week we welcome the amazing  K.S. Thomas, I am so excited to share her work. I have read several of her books and I am in love with them !

First up we have

Nine: A pINK Novel (A pINK Series Book 1)

Nine. 
The number of years between us. 

Nine. 

And that’s just one reason it’ll never work. I have eight more. One for every year I’ve been alive longer than he has. They’re simple reasons. Obvious ones. And all I should need to know to understand that giving Lucas McNealy even half a thought, is a total and complete waste of time. 

Only he doesn’t seem to know that. If he did, I’m sure he wouldn’t keep showing up. 
In my thoughts. 
At my shop. 
And on my doorstep.
Nine simple reasons.  Nine undeniable years. 
Nine attempts to tell him ‘No’. Nine.



NINE Excerpt:

Hiding in the garage with half of my body hanging in the freezer, desperate for some relief, I call the only person I know capable of talking me out of this crisis.
“I need help, but if you start talking about avocados and guacamole cravings again, I swear to God, I will leave this barbecue, pull you out of whatever family gathering your mother dragged you to this year, and punch you.”
I can hear Sketch laugh on the other end, then several muffled words as she excuses herself from said family gathering to deal with me.
“I take it you couldn’t get out of going to Pru’s for the fourth?”
I whimper. “I really tried but Madi didn’t like the idea of frying up veggie burgers in the kitchen and having a picnic in the living room while we watch a Back to the Future marathon. I don’t know why. She used to love that.”
“Yeah. When she was twelve. Doesn’t really sound to me like you tried all that hard to avoid going. Maybe you wanted to go spend the day with Pru’s hunky son after all.” Sketch chuckles. Her voice is so dark and deep, she sounds like a dude sometimes. When we were younger I used to make her pretend to be my jealous boyfriend when guys called that I no longer had any use for. I was horrible. I know.
“Sketch, I spent five minutes talking to him in the hall, and I am literally standing in the freezer right now trying to solidify all the parts of me he turned into molten lava just by breathing near me. This shit just isn’t normal.”
The panic in my voice is undeniable.
“You need to calm the fuck down. And probably get laid.” Then she adds hastily, “But not today!” As if I need that clarified.
“I wasn’t planning on it. Why do you think I’m calling you?” I pull a packet of frozen peas out and hold it to my chest. There. That definitely helps.
“You’re totally serious right now. This kid is really getting to you.” It’s almost like she can’t wrap her brain around the concept. To be fair, I’m struggling with it too, and not just because he’s a toddler but because men don’t have this effect on me. Ever. Because I choose not to let them. And usually, this works for me. Why in the hell Lucas has powers that can override my strong-willed desire not to succumb to lust and sexual cravings, I don’t know, and I sure as hell don’t like it.
“Can we not call him a kid? For like five minutes while I find a way to keep my body from actively seeking contact with his dick?”
Her laughter fills my ear again. It’s really starting to piss me off. “I would think reminding you of his tender age would help.”
“Well it doesn’t,” I grumble, eyeing the bag of peas on my boobs which I’m pretty sure are melted now. “It only makes me feel like a creepy pervert, and I’d really rather not.”
“You’re not a creepy pervert. He’s twenty-fucking-five years old. He’s been a grown ass man for seven years already. If he were anyone else, you’d be busy undressing him with your eyes and saying some really dirty shit about him right about now, not freaking out about the way he soaks your panties and melts your insides with his swoon worthy breathing skills. Can we talk about that while we’re at it? How did his basic need for oxygen cause you to come this undone?”

I cringe, remembering how close he was standing, and how good he smelled. Maybe it was my basic need for oxygen that really fucked me up. Next time, I’m not inhaling. 
“He was just standing way too damn close. There were muscles all up in my face. He smelled like the best possible thing you could ever wish to breathe in and his goddamned mouth got so close to my face, his scruff tickled my cheek. And…he said some stuff too. Stuff that I’m going to end up replaying in my head a million times over because I’m lonely and sex deprived and the only men who ever hit on me are usually twenty years older, with full beards and guts the size of three watermelons.”
“Until now.”
“Fuck me.”
“Did Lucas just walk in?” Her smugness is practically ear shattering.
“Fuck you, too.”
“Are you going to survive this barbecue or what?”
I sigh. “Well, I’m not going to die if that’s what you’re asking.” The sound of an engine coming to life startles me. “Are you in the car?”
“Obviously. Stay in the freezer. I’ll be there to pull you out in ten.” Then she hangs up. I follow her advice and stay put, only flipping myself over from time to time in order to cool the burning parts of me evenly.
 
 
 
 

One More Chapter

 
Having overdosed on the cold, unyielding aspects of reality at an early age, books became a welcome escape I was happy to dedicate my life to. Editing romance novels seemed like the perfect career choice for the girl who craved fantasy and a world she could exercise a little control over. Bottom line, I like having a happy ending I can count on.
Until...Jensen.
Where I prefer to have my head in the clouds, unattached to the tumultuous roller-coaster of real life, his feet are so firmly planted on the ground, they're sinking in and getting buried there.
Jensen seems an unlikely hero for any story, let alone mine. He's moody. And confused. And pretty damn sure there's no such thing as happy ever after.
But then that's the thing about all the best happy endings. They show up when you least expect them to.

BUY LINK 

 

ONE MORE CHAPTER Excerpt:

 “I don’t know how to do this.”
 “Which part?” Because if it’s a simple matter of explaining the polite way to end a casual weekend sleepover, which incidentally was sex free, I can help him out no problem. Anything beyond that and we’re probably both in over our heads here. 
 Finally, his gaze moves to meet mine. Only now I feel compelled to look away.
 “Walking away. It's the right thing to do. It's what you should have done when I told you to. But you didn't. And you made me do it. And I did." He pauses to take a deep, painful breath but his eyes never waver from mine. “Then you came back and now... I don’t know how to walk away from you this time, Karma. But I can’t stay. I have nothing left to give you if I stay… And plenty I want to take.” 
 “What if you can have it?” I breathe.
 He shakes his head slowly. “I can’t.”
 “Why not?” 
 “Because it would be wrong.” 
  I swallow hard several times, the intensity wearing on me. “Maybe it would be wrong not to. Maybe there’s a reason neither of us can figure out how to walk away even though walking away would clearly be less complicated. Maybe we’re not supposed to.”
  “I don’t want to hurt you.”
        “Then stop trying to pretend this isn’t happening. Whatever it is, you and me, it’s something. It’s real.”
        He exhales loudly, his chin dropping to his chest and I breathe in until the air fills my stomach, making up for the shallow breathing I succumbed to during this conversation.
        His hand is still in my hair, his wrist loosely resting on my collar bone. Who is he kidding? He can’t walk away. He can’t even let go.
        Then he realizes it too. His grip on my curls tightens and when his jaw rises up enough for him to look down on me, the brazen look in his eyes is beyond anything I’ve ever seen in them before.
        “I’m going to fuck this up,” he whispers.
        “Probably,” I say quietly, “but you might get it right. It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
        “You’re crazy,” he murmurs, his mouth moving dangerously close to mine.
        “Certifiably.” And I close the gap between us just to prove it.
 
 
 

Last Girl

When Beatrix ‘Trix’ Daley loses her twin brother Bo in a tragic accident, she inadvertently gains his
best friend, Penn, whether she wants him or not. Penn is the exact opposite of her brother. Obnoxious. Cocky. And out to sleep with as many women as possible. But he knows. He gets it. Because he lost Bo, too.

Penn’s been going out of his way to piss off Trix since he was six. Twenty years later, and getting under her skin is still his favorite pastime. And Bo’s still the only thing that keeps them tied together. Even if he has been dead for eight years.

For better or worse, Trix and Penn have been the constant in each other’s lives, and the line between love and hate continues to blur at a steady rate…but Trix is the last girl on earth a guy like Penn should fall for. So there’s no telling which side of love and hate they’ll wind up on when all is said and done. And whether they’ll wind up there, still together...or not.
 
 
 
LAST GIRL Excerpt: 

Trix smells like Lucky Charms and her cherry pomegranate soap. I hate when she stands this close to
me. She always makes me hungry. And not for cereal.

“You wanna talk about where you were when I walked in here?” I know where she was. Getting sucked in by the darkness. I’ve seen it happen often enough over the years to recognize the signs, I just can’t figure out how to stop her from going.

“Just thinking about starting my new job tomorrow.”

Liar.

But I’ll go along with it. For now. “Private practice this time, right?”

She nods, and her eyes shoot straight up again until they’re laser locked to my forehead and the work she’s doing there. “Yeah. Dr. Patterson. He’s a plastic surgeon who specializes in reparative surgeries. Does tons of pro-bono work helping families whose babies were born with birth defects.”

That explains her interest in working for him. Trix doesn’t do anything unless it’s for some cause or another.

I notice her gaze drop automatically expecting my response. It’s funny how it happens even when she’s so clearly fighting it.

“Sounds like your kind of doctor.”

I can feel her pressing down the small strips of tape over my brow. Then she steps back, examining her work. “Hope so. I interviewed with his office manager, so I haven’t actually met him yet. Kind of nervous, actually. What if he doesn’t like me? I really need this job.”

I rest my hands on her hips, twisting them back and forth playfully in hopes it will get her to smile.

“Come on, Trix. Not like you? How would that even be possible?”

She arches her brow skeptically. “You don’t like me.”

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

Her eyes widen and she throws her hands up at me. “How exactly is that different?”

“Because.” Still, I grasp her hips again and move her toward me, staring straight up into her teal eyes which are currently trying to ice me to death. “I love you, so liking you isn’t necessary.”

“Yeah well, I’m not sure what you feel for me is love. It’s more like hate that got so old and moldy it became unrecognizable to the point it could be easily confused for love.”

I smirk.

“You sound like you’ve put some thought into this. Are you saying that what you feel for me is nothing but old and moldy hate?”

She presses down on my shoulders to push herself away from me and out of the hold I keep placing on her. “Yeah. Pretty much.” Then she busies herself cleaning up the bloody gauze and leftover supplies from fixing up my face. She pauses briefly, a look on her face like she’s just thought of something. “Do me a favor and don’t pick at that. I’ll check it when I get home tomorrow and change it out if I have to. It should be fine though. Couple of days and it’ll be well on its way to healing.”

“Thanks.” But I don’t move. I just sit here and continue to watch her clean up. She’s back in her head, unraveling. And I can’t stop it.






Tin


 Men and I are done. Whatever entertaining notions I enjoy while screwing around with the random guys that cross my path, are exactly that. Entertaining.
I don’t want more. I’m not capable of more. More would mean feeling. Would entail wanting. Desiring. And a slew of other emotions I haven’t experienced in over three years. And it’s not due to any stupid naïve intention of trying to keep my heart from breaking, nor is it as a result of having it broken by some poor slob who should have known better.
I can’t feel. I don’t have a heart. Period. And it's going to take more than following some magic yellow brick road to get me a new one.
Even if that road does lead straight to Riker ~The only soul on earth who's as close to being dead as I am... and brings me as close to being alive as I'll ever be.
*****Warning - This story contains adult material and possible emotional triggers for readers with a history of abuse*****

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TIN Excerpt:

It’s been a week. One whole goddamn week. Every day I tell myself she’ll turn up before the sun does. Then, when she doesn’t, I go to work, convinced I’ll find her here when I get back. I don’t know why I tell myself such bullshit. I’ve never been much for denial in the past. For some reason this time I just can’t get a fucking grip on things. I knew it could happen. Actually, I was pretty damn sure she would bolt as soon as I told her everything. I don’t even know why I knew that, other than she’s a creature of flight who lives in constant fear of being the cause of someone else’s pain.

Ironic, really. Considering how much she’s fucking hurting me by being gone. Only she can’t see that. Or maybe she does. I don’t know. I just know she believes staying will hurt me more than leaving. She’s fucked up in the head that way. Fucked up in the heart. Fucked up to her very core. And if I ever find the bastard who fucked her up, I’ll kill him.

Her flight for California departs in less than five days. I’m guessing Kirsten will show up on day six to collect all of the stuff Quinn couldn’t carry on foot when she left here in the middle of the night. I had half a mind to offer her a ride, but she seemed hell-bent on sneaking out, so eventually, I just faked sleep to make it easier on her. But it’s been a motherfucking week. And I’m done faking sleep and making shit easier for her. If she wants out, I’m going to make her tell me. To my face. And then I’m going to convince her she’s wrong.




WITH WHOM WE SPEND OUR LIVES

 Love? Sure, I believe in it. I've even experienced it. Once. Harper Richards - the girl who got away. Or rather, the one I let go.
It should go without saying that it wasn't by choice. A guy like me, doesn't dare to dream of getting a girl like Harper even once, he sure as sh*t doesn't let her go on a whim. Nor does he ever think for a moment he'll get a second chance with her. Even if he wants one.
I want one. I NEED one.
And now...through some twisted turn of fate and a wedding I never should have been invited to...I just might get one.
**Content Warning - Adult Language**

 

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WITH WHOM WE SPEND OUR LIVES Excerpt:

I need to turn around and walk out. It’s the right thing to do. I have no business being in here in the first place. But I can’t leave. So, I just stand here. My eyes traveling the four walls of her room. The mirror with the frame she spray painted a tacky hot pink and silver. The cork board still filled with pictures of her and her mom and handwritten notes of all of her favorite quotes. She’s added a few to her collection. I have a sick need to know what they are.

Listening for any sounds from the hall, I slowly move toward the cork board. I’m not going to touch anything. If papers overlap, that’s all there is to it. I’ll have to live with not knowing. Squinting, I lean in close. I read through four of them, recognizing three when something catches my eye.

“Holy shit.” My hand is hovering over the mess of papers and pins while I remind myself repeatedly not to touch. I don’t need to. I can see it just the way it is. The corner of a picture still peeking through the stack of note scraps she’s used to cover it. I know that picture. I’m in that picture.

“Pickle?”

Shit.

“I wasn’t touching.” Because somehow that really makes a difference when you’re snooping around in your ex-girlfriend’s bedroom. Not touching.

“Relax. I’m not Meg and that hand isn’t hovering over Harper’s boob.” Gina comes up beside me. “Something hidden under there you’ve been looking for?” She nods at the tacked on papers covering the board in layers.

“I haven’t been looking for it.” I lower my hand. “I had no idea it was still here to be found.”

She hooks her arm around mine and starts to turn me around, leading me back toward the doorway and out of Harper’s room.

“I wouldn’t have brought you back here if it was gone for good, Cole.” She’s walking me back down the hall and I feel somewhat like a mental patient who wandered off and is carefully being escorted back to his padded cell, the way she’s using her calm mommy voice and taking oddly slow steps while we move. Then we turn into the music room and normal Gina is back. “But you can’t go all stalker on her ass two seconds after you show up here. Ease into that shit, Pickle. I can tell you without doubt, girls don’t appreciate people sifting through their most private of thoughts, especially not when those thoughts include ex-boyfriends they’re supposed to have forgotten about years ago.”

 

 

 

 

I know I have found a few more of her books to read after working on this post. I hope you have too.  Want to find out more ??  

 

Here she is the Fabulous K.S. Thomas

 

Mommy of one.
Drinker of coffee (lots and lots of coffee). 
Writer of book boyfriends and happy ever afters.

After years of playing with my imaginary friends, I decided it was time to grow up and make my crazy work for me. Several years and over twenty published works later, I'm happy to say the madness surges on, fueled by caffeine and an adventurous life filled with amazing characters more fabulous than fiction. 

When I'm not sitting at my computer feeding my word addiction and guzzling coffee, I can be found paddle boarding the Intracoastal or wading in the waves and happily tugging my kid along on her boogie board. Point being, I'm never far from the beach, and my kid is never far from me ;-)
 
Twitter: @friedgatortail

Sign up for new release announcements: http://bit.ly/29a9Vfk
 
She also has some 
Perma-freebies (on all major eBook sites) :



Until It's Not (a Short Story intended to compliment the novel WITH WHOM WE SPEND OUR LIVES) - https://www.amazon.com/Until-Its-Not-K-S-Thomas-ebook/dp/B00ZQYG63K

Her Amazon Page listing all of her books: amazon.com/author/ksthomas 

I hope you found a few more books to add to your TBR list.  Want to meet K.S. Thomas?? She will be attending IndieBook Fest October 7-9th  for tickets and more information please check out this website. http://indiebookconvention.com/pages/registration.html
 
Thanks for joining us this week check back next week for our next featured author Gail Priest

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