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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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*****
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**
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
She also has some
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Thanks for joining us this week check back next week for our next featured author Gail Priest
