Monday, March 12, 2018

The Kendricks 900

March 12, 2018

A lot has happened since the Kendricks 800 and I'm not talking about the obvious one hundred posts here at Between the Keys. Post number 800 happened on December 31, 2016, and so was the retrospective for that year. Number 900 is a bit different.  I'm a wee bit annoyed today and willing to go where I don't normally go. You might want to skate on this one because I'm going political.

I've been thinking a lot about the changes in my life and the world at large. Getting older isn't a picnic. It's a subversive process and the perpetrator is your own body. Mind over matter becomes more important because what matters is your mind. Keep your mind and thoughts in order and your physical health benefits. Sometimes my mind listens to my body and allows me to be lazy and that is not a good thing.

Another trap is to allow yourself to slip into the mindset of others. I see that a lot today. The only way to escape the political posturing going on right now is to go totally off the grid. (That's quite tempting, by the way.) Everyone is repeating what everyone else is saying without knowing what the hell they're actually saying which means the pigeons are winning. Personally, I think way too many of the pigeons are pretty fucking stupid. 

Writing advice is everywhere one looks. Pinterest contains a plethora of such "wisdom" that in turn gets spewed out onto Twitter. It's the same advice that was passed around in the old Yahoo chat rooms twenty years ago. We've not learned much, have we? The sage wisdom of the ebook publisher has always been "give the reader what they want because it sells." Then publishers want everything to be the same, allowing editors to change everything to the "house style" which is code for everything WE publish is the same and it's the way WE like it. Really? No wonder ebook publishers have lost the market to Amazon.

Maybe THIS reader wants something different. Maybe this reader will write it, too.

Everywhere I look I see various groups of people vying for the control of others - and they'll boldly lie to obtain that control. The founding fathers of the United States lived in times such as these and they boldly wrote a Constitution to prevent the usurping of personal freedoms. Oh, Mr. Madison. Too few are listening. 

There are too many people telling us what to think and how to live, and too many pigeons telling us those people seeking to control us are correct. The rhetoric spouted in the news media, in our books, in our music - even from our pulpits - is damaging our individual rights because too many blindly believe. 

It truly doesn't matter what side of a political issue you come down on. It doesn't. Both sides lie. It's time to take a good look at the people seeking to control you.  It's time to take a good look at where ceding that control to them will take us. It's time to closely examine and understand their agendas because, in the end, it's all about the power and control you allow them to have over you.

It's time to be an eagle.  

KC Kendricks

Sunday, March 11, 2018

Blogger's Vanity

March 11, 2018


It's a fear that's haunted me for years and with good reason. I've been around awhile. I remember first hearing about weblogs way back in about 1995 when I got my first desktop computer and went online. My first blog was over at Live Journal. I made all my mistakes there and [hopefully] that blog is long gone. Then came Blogger and it was a much better fit. Or was it?

Back in the day, it was a good idea to have a newsletter mailing list. I thought it might be nice to put my newsletter out on a blog so everyone could read it. I put a lot of work into that project only to have Blogger shut it down. Why you ask? Because I ended each blog with the same signature line and, back then, the system tagged it as spam (and not the kind that comes in the can). Now everyone has a signature line and it's cool with Blogger. 

Not one to give up, I tried again but eventually I was targeted by someone who obviously didn't like the romance genre. After a particularly nasty, and personal, attack, I deleted that blog. To this day I believe this was another writer who was angry I had a book final in the 2007 EPPIES and she did not.

It's all water under the bridge now, but oh how I wish I had saved ALL those blog entries! I have a few but I tend to compose straight into Blogger instead of a document. The next blog post after this one will be The Kendricks 900. That's right. NINE HUNDRED BLOGS here at Between the Keys. A lot of what is here is like the old weblogs. It's not all about promoting the books. It's about sharing my life with readers and other authors. I would hate like hell to lose this record of the last ten years of my life. 

Last week I was fact searching and blundered upon a reference to a service that turns blogs into books. The service is called Blog2Print and I jumped right on it. It works. I now have three neat and tidy .pdf volumes of Between the Keys from the first post in 2008 to the end of 2017.  I'm amazed at how relieved I am to have those items! 

Who knew I had so much vanity that I needed my silly little blog posts to be preserved - and at a price. Not a high price. I do have limits. But under $10 apiece for each .pdf. If I wanted to spend the big bucks I could have had them printed on paper, but I just said no. A digital copy is adequate. 

It did get me thinking, though. There's no reason in the world I can't create a single document for my blog entries in Word and save it as a .pdf at the end of the year. Seriously. You'd think a reasonably intelligent person would have thought of that years ago, but again, noooo. Anyway, that's underway now and it's a habit I'll continue. I can approximate a matching cover with Photoshop. Live and improve is one of my mottos. 

So is spending about $30 to preserve my blog entries nothing more than writer's vanity? Maybe, but I don't really care if it is. 

KC Kendricks

Friday, March 9, 2018

Time's relentless march

March 9, 2018

This week marked another year since my grandfather's passing. I remember him well. I knew him longer, and probably better, than I knew my father who died twenty-two years earlier than Pop. I remember Pop standing beside my father's casket, weeping, asking God why he took such a young man and let "this old man" live. Pop was seventy-three at the time.

I had a wonderful relationship with my grandfather. He taught me so much of the old ways, ways I see dying. I have no one interested in learning about the earth, the flowers, the bees, the woodland creatures but that doesn't negate the fact of how very blessed I am that someone cared enough to impart that knowledge to me.   

Time's relentless march has me thinking about Pop and how much he enjoyed his retirement years. It's just one more life thing he gave me subtle guidance about. He had a plan, every day. As each day brings me closer to my "retirement" years, I'm making plans, too, plans that will honor what Pop taught me. 

So for now, take a step into the Way Back Machine with me, to what I posted on a different blog the day Pop passed from this life, thirteen years ago. Will the next generation remember me and blog about my life? I doubt it. Some things one must do for one's self. 

KC Kendricks


March 7, 2005

Minutes to Memories

A little girl watches as a man glues square wooden frames together. The man shows a young girl how to plant a flower. A young woman gets her first car and the man smiles, pride warring with concern. Thanksgiving Day and they leave the warmth of home and family to walk along the mountain ridge in silence. Words are not needed between them.

The man, suddenly old, holds the woman’s hand as they mourn together. An old man’s face lights up with joy when the now not-so-young woman hands him a little black puppy and tells him to meet his new “grandson.”

My grandfather has left this life. He was ninety-five. I love him. Death will not change that.

His passing was not sudden, nor was it unexpected. It was blessedly peaceful. I’m saddened by it and yet I will not give in to grief. He wouldn’t want that. He told me in a thousand ways across seventeen thousand days that life was to be lived. And to live, you keep moving forward, every day.

It’s the way he lived his life. He enjoyed a retirement that spanned thirty years. He had a plan for every day of those years. Until these last few months, he had a plan for the next several years.

Did he travel the world? No. Did he have fancy cars, a big house, and a big bankroll? No. He was a “plain” man. A gentle man, and a gentleman. He lived simply. He loved deeply. He was deeply loved.  He was the best grandfather in the world.

I think I will pause these next few days. Moving forward can wait just a little while. I’ll spend some time looking back at days that turned into minutes, and minutes to memories.

Rest well, Pop.  

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

A Perfect Hire for the MidWeek Tease today

March 7, 2018

Welcome to the MidWeek Tease blog hop! Thanks to our host, Angelica Dawson, for making sure the MWT happens every week. She must be one organized lady!

This week, I'm highlighting a book with a storied past - A Perfect Hire. It's a little piece that I hope breaks a few of the PC meters. Consenting adults should be able to... have coffee together. Or do whatever. Whenever. Wherever. However. You get the drift.

Here's a bit from A Perfect Hire. Be sure to check out all this week's teases using the list at the end of this post. Enjoy!


“You’re full of tricks aren’t you?”

“The name of the game is get them in here. They can’t purchase if they don’t come in.”

We enjoyed our java in comfortable silence for a few minutes but I sensed something was on his mind. 

“You’ve bought me coffee—several cups. Can I treat you to breakfast at my place?”

I didn’t want to him to think I was too eager nor did I want to blow the chance to get laid. The crowd I hung out with was fun, but they were friends and we didn’t fuck. I wanted the man across the table from me.

Hell, I wanted him bent over it or sprawled on it, or even under it if we happened to slide off. I met his smoky gaze and shivered.

“I’ve a better idea since my knee isn’t up to much walking. Why don’t we go to my place for breakfast? You can still cook, though.”

He nodded. “Where do you live?”

I pointed at the ceiling. “It’s a short commute.”

I’d purchased the building a few years ago not caring that the elevator went only as far as the second floor. With the street storefront, the second floor stockroom and a third level apartment, it had been perfect for my needs. After living in the small space for a year, I discovered adding a fourth story for a bedroom suite was not only financially feasible, but would keep me sane. I liked the old industrial elevator so I didn’t replace it with one that went all the way to the top.  

Having to gimp my way up the stairs on a bum knee in front of a guy I planned to repeatedly fuck senseless was embarrassing.  It also brought home the fact we would need to be a bit creative since I couldn’t put a lot of pressure on the joint. Of course, figuring it out could be interesting. 

Eric did the heavy lifting in the elevator, pulling the grate down with a grin.

“Going down?”

I snorted and answered truthfully. “Nope. It’s going up.”

His gaze dropped to my zipper and that shit-eating grin on his face widened. “I’m not sure it’s acceptable to take advantage of you when you can’t run from me.”

“What makes you think I’d run even if I could?”

He closed the distance between us and my dick finished its rise to attention. The smile faded from his face, replaced by a searching seriousness as I grasped his hips and pulled him closer. His hands went to my shoulders, his intense hazel gaze locked with mine. I stared into those gleaming orbs and memorized every golden and green fleck. The elevator jolted to a stop but I barely felt the bump in my knee.

“Time to get off.”

Eric shook his head, his husky voice barely above a whisper. “It won’t be that fast.”


ABOUT A Perfect Hire

Shopkeeper Chris Douglas traveled the world as a tour guide. He settled in New York City and turned his love of coffees and wines from around the world into a thriving specialty business. He enjoys meeting new people and his small emporium just off Bleecker Street brings all sorts through his door. After he falls off a ladder, Chris tapes a “help wanted” sign on the door and hopes it will attract the right person.

Eric Todd is at loose ends after the company he worked for changed hands and he was let go. He can get by financially, but with too many hours to fill in a day, he’d like a part-time job to keep busy. When he spies the hand-drawn sign on the door of The Corked Bean, he goes inside to check out the store - and the sexy proprietor.

The two men hit it off and Chris hires Eric on the spot. Now the pay and benefits aren’t as enticing, or satisfying, as the after-hours perks available for the perfect hire.

AVAILABE at:  Amazon       Itunes       Barnes and Noble       Kobo

KC Kendricks

Wednesday, February 28, 2018

Twice Removed From Yesterday - last MidWeek Tease of February

February 28, 2018

Have you ever noticed how the end of February sneaks up on you? It happens to me every year.

Welcome to the last MidWeek Tease blog hop of February! This week I'm revisiting the Men of Marionville collection with Twice Removed From Yesterday with an excerpt you won't find (legally) anywhere else. 

Be sure to check out all the MWT blogs by using the list at the end of this post. Enjoy!


Asking a few nosey questions seemed to be in order. The worst that could happen was he would tell me to mind my own business. I took the chance.

“So what’s your hesitation on the house? Smart money says Dylan pays you pretty good. Heck, I’m a temporary employee and he’s paying me like I’m a regular hire.”

He turned onto a side road and in a few moments, we were parked beside a stream. Just ahead I could see an old wooden covered bridge. It was a picture worthy of a frame.

August leaned toward me and slipped his arm around my shoulders. My gaze collided with his and held it. His lips parted. I slid toward him and let him kiss me. I knew a second of complete stillness and peace in which I marveled at the soft texture of his lips as they moved over mine, and then a heat bomb fired off inside me.

My skin flashed hot as I reached for him. Goosebumps spread over my thighs and ass. My balls tingled and drew up close to my body. My cock hardened in a deliciously throbbing rush as the need to sink into him ripped the air from my lungs.

He surged forward to push me down beneath him on the narrow car seat. His hand was cool as he slipped it down the front of my jeans to fist my shaft and I realized he was incredibly tense for a man making his move. I flicked my tongue to his and lifted my hips to move my dick in his hand.

He smiled against my mouth and pulled away. He looked a bit sheepish. “I didn’t plan to jump you like this, Chandler.”

“Thank goodness you did. It clears up a few things for me.” I pulled his mouth back to mine.

This kiss was no less tame as we nibbled and tested each other, searching for boundaries and finding none. His silky tongue slid over mine. He withdrew and I followed. Back and forth we parried until I was breathless. He pulled away again, releasing my erection and sitting up to put both hands on the steering wheel. I missed his warmth as caught my breath. A quick glance showed me he was equally out of breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

I pondered the wisdom of giving him a blowjob. It would be so easy to unzip his jeans and bend over him. In this secluded, idyllic spot, who would see?

But he’d moved away from me, a sure sign he wasn’t ready for more and any move I made might be overstepping a boundary. I took my cue from him and sat up straight to pull my shirt into place.
I grinned. “You can bring me out here every day for that.”

He hung his head. “You shouldn’t tempt me. And you have to quit The Wharf at the end of your week.”

I blinked at him. He was serious. “Oh? Just why do I need to do that?”

“How can I ask you out on a real date if you technically work for me? There are sexual harassment laws about employers taking advantage of employees, you know.”

So that was his hang up. It was actually a relief to learn where his head was at with me. I understood his caution but I also knew he and I had to get the sex out of the way and in a hurry. I sensed we were wired the same in that regard. If the sex didn’t work, we’d settle our asses down and be friends, and not friends with benefits.

And if the sex did work for both of us? The answer to that question, that possibility, was best left in the future.

I snorted. “Who said anything about sex?”

He echoed the noise I’d made. “My hard dick and your hard dick.”

“Well, there is that.” I held my hand out to him and he wrapped his fingers around mine. “Relax, Gus. Let’s just go with the flow for a few days, okay?”

“I’m serious, Chandler. I can’t bring that sort of risk into The Wharf. Dylan’s been too good to me. I…I want to take this to the next level, but I can’t until you’re done.”

A wave of carnal frustration hit me. I understood where he was coming from, but I thought he was being overly cautious. He wanted me as much as I wanted him and he wanted to wait? Yeah, it would make me crazy to be near him and know his balls tingled the way mine did.

“Okay. Just for you, I’ll force myself to behave until then.”

It was his turn to blink at me. “You’re going to make me regret this, aren’t you?”

I flashed him my best smile. “Take me home, Mr. Howard. I need to get ready for work and so do you. And yes. Gird your loins, so to speak. I plan to torture you.”



Chandler Beck is at a crossroads. To move forward, he has to take a trip back to the biggest regret in his life. He discovers a man happily settled down with a partner, both of whom are ready to call him a friend. When they offer him a place to rest, Chandler ends up in their guest room and with a job at the best restaurant in town.

Once a rising star on the pro golf circuit, a back injury forced August Howard to give up the game. Swallowing his pride, he accepted a job waiting tables and worked his way up to the manager of The Wharf, the area’s premier restaurant. He’s not happy when the owner does a favor for a friend and hires the seemingly inexperienced Chandler Beck as a bartender.

It doesn’t take Chandler long to win over the prickly August, but August is a man with secrets. Their friendship heats up and when August’s past comes calling, Chandler pays the price. The only option open is for August to confess all and hope those around him, especially Chandler, will accept he’s a different man from who he was in his yesterdays.  

Now available at:

KC Kendricks

Sunday, February 18, 2018

Today in History, February 18 - It's in the nickname

sunrise on the mountain
February 18, 2018

Today is one of the few days a year I know I won't open a manuscript-in-progress and work on it. Today is Daytona Sunday. 

My enjoyment of NASCAR began way back in the day when my Uncle Bob would take my cousin Linda and me with him to the local dirt track. I'm sure I thought the dirt track was great fun but you won't find me at one now. Dirt in my hair is NOT my thing. Linda and I could also pick any Sunday to sit in our Aunt Libby's backyard and watch the cars at the local dragstrip, too. Our county has a long and storied history of a vibrant car culture.  

NASCAR has gone through a lot of changes since the 1970's, some good, some bad. NASCAR is a single-family owned franchise - an oddity in the realm of sport. Sometimes they make crazy stupid rules but my sense of it is they don't want another death during a race. NASCAR is a lot tamer than it used to be. 

On this date in history, February 18, 2001, NASCAR legend Dale Earnhardt, Sr. died in a crash on the last lap of the Daytona 500. I think Darrell Waltrip summed it up best: "Live by the push, die by the push." I think he was talking in a more metaphysical sense when he said that, nevertheless, Earnhardt earned his nickname of The Intimidator by perfecting "the push." He did a lot of "blocking," too, and we all saw how badly that ended. 

I wasn't a Senior fan, although I did like Junior. "My" driver was always Terry LaBonte (#5). I just liked the way he drove. They called him The Iceman for his seemingly unflappable style and coolness under pressure. Terry didn't go out and deliberately wreck other drivers. Later, they called him "Iron Man" for the number of consecutive starts he had over his career. After Terry retired, I started to pay attention to Tony Stewart. You know. The guy they called "Smoke" for his temper. I loved his outspoken attitude and fearlessness in telling the France family (NASCAR owners) the truth. Alas, he too retired. 

You know folks in the South love their nicknames. If you earn one, wear it like the badge of honor it is.

But there was hope. Stewart partnered with Gene Haas to create Stewart Haas Racing, which has four drivers. And one of those drivers is Kevin Harvick. I kinda slid into paying attention to him and now he's my driver. Happy Harvick is what Darrell Waltrip calls him. I think they should call Harvick "The Instigator" but that's for another blog. 

It wasn't until this morning that it struck me that Kevin Harvick is the driver they tapped to take over the #3 ride when Dale Earnhardt, Sr. was killed on this date back in 2001. 

So here we are with this year's Daytona 500 falling on the date in history, February 18, of Senior's demise. I can just hear those chatterbox announcers now. 

Maybe, just maybe, I'd be better off writing today. 

KC Kendricks

PS. The spousal unit will be cheering for Kyle Busch. They call him, "Rowdy." 

Saturday, February 10, 2018

Cover reveal - A Perfect Hire by KC Kendricks

February 10, 2018

Greetings from wet western Maryland! Snow, ice, rain. Gotta love living in the Mid-Atlantic region. 

I suppose the winter weather inspired me to get to work on A Perfect Hire. You've heard the phrase, "when hell freezes over." Well, hell froze over. That's the only explanation I can give for my decision to re-release this book. 

That and fact that since I've undone all the "editing" done at a publisher-who-will-not-be-named, the book is back to its original vision and story. 

The cover turned out okay. I've made better. I've made worse. This one is okay. I wanted to keep it simple with a store/shop background and a guy. And since the guy is hired to work in a specialty shop that sells coffee and wine, it was appropriate to have a cup of coffee and a glass of wine by his side. It works for me. 

The big question? When is the story going live? Probably February 24 or 25. I know it won't be on February 18. That's the day of the Daytona 500. Priorities, you know. 


Shopkeeper Chris Douglas traveled the world as a tour guide. He settled in New York City, and turned his love of coffees and wines from around the world into a thriving specialty business. He enjoys meeting new people and his small emporium just off Bleecker Street brings all sorts through his door. After he falls off a ladder, Chris tapes a “help wanted” sign on the door and hopes it will attract the right person.

Eric Todd is at loose ends after the company he worked for changed hands and he was let go. He can get by financially, but with too many hours to fill in a day, he’d like a part-time job to keep busy. When he spies the hand-drawn sign on the door of The Corked Bean, he goes inside to check out the store, and the sexy proprietor.

The two men hit it off and Chris hires Eric on the spot. Now the pay and benefits aren’t as enticing, or satisfying, as the after-hours perks available for the perfect hire.

KC Kendricks
mailing list:

Wednesday, February 7, 2018

Beneath Dark Stars by KC Kendricks for the MidWeek Tease

February 7, 2018

Welcome to the MidWeek Tease blog hop! This week I've got an excerpt from Beneath Dark Stars. Our heroes are a detective and his shapeshifter lover. And he's not your garden variety shapeshifter, either. He's a true shapeshifter, able to take on many forms. 

Be sure to check out all the MidWeek Tease blogs using the list at the end of the post. I hope you enjoy the excerpt! 


Beneath Dark Stars
Book 2 of the Sundown Saga
Gay romance with a paranormal shift

Have you met a shapeshifter? How would you know?

Fallon Roxbury, seasoned detective and special police consultant, knows that appearances can be deceiving. Trained to gather the clues and arrive at logical conclusions, he fits the puzzle pieces of a situation together to find the truth. But there’s nothing reasonable in Fallon’s attraction to the sexy, secretive shapeshifter called Sundown.

Sundown has studied people all his life. Having his very own human male is all he ever wanted. In Fallon, he’s found a man he can trust with his secrets and reveal his true nature. Keeping Fallon happy is a joyful exercise into which Sundown puts his heart and soul—when he’s not teasing Fallon’s police partner by leaving strange footprints at crime scenes, that is.

Fallon’s new case ties into an old one. At a dead end, he knows it’s time to ask Sundown for a little help. With his special abilities, Sundown can get into places Fallon can’t. All Fallon has to do is figure out a way to prove what he already knows. But what’s a cop to do when the truth takes a shift that’s stranger than fiction?


With a groan, I collapsed onto him. He let out a loud umpf and, with his surprising strength, flipped me over onto my back. I was too limp to protest even had I wanted to. A satisfied purr vibrated out of him as he snuggled tight against my side. I found his hand, laced my fingers through his, and asked him a question he’d so far avoided answering.

“When are you going to tell me what it’s like for you, Sundown?”

He sighed. “It’s what I wish it to be, Fallon.”

I’d heard that before. He was uncomfortable with my curiosity about what was normal for his kind. It wasn’t like he didn’t trust me, but more I needed to be patient with him for a little longer. I turned my head and kissed his temple.

“I’ll do a little better by you this afternoon, babe. I promise.”

“Now you’re trying to bribe me, are you not? Very well, Fallon. The more pleasure receptors I align for sexual enjoyment, the more intense the experience.”

I had asked, so I confirmed one of my suspicions. “So sometimes you ‘align’ a lot of them, like this morning?”

“Yes. And sometimes, I wish for something different. This afternoon may be one of those times.” His green eyes gleamed warmly above his smile. “You’ll need to spend a lot of time touching me to find them all.”

“Not a problem, babe. Is coffee a problem? I mean, since I’m awake now and all that. And I did stimulate your pleasure receptors for you.”

Without a word, Sundown rolled from the bed and padded off to the bathroom, his footsteps silent on the carpet. The skin he wore for me was quite attractive. Tall and slender, he moved with a controlled grace, each step measured, no effort wasted. His shiny dark hair, green eyes, and full, berry-colored lips were perfect—too perfect if someone looked closely at my shapeshifter lover. I closed my eyes and listened to him move around the apartment, finally reopening them to admire his form as he returned carrying two cups of coffee.

I accepted both mugs until he rejoined me under the sheet, then handed one back to him. I loved these lazy mornings when we the most strenuous thing we had to do was nothing at all. Sundown rubbed his thigh against mine.

“Tell me more about this girl whose killer you seek.”

If I didn’t tell him, he’d chatter at me until I did. It was better to give him the short version and get it over with, even though I knew it would upset his tender heart.

“Maria DeLong’s parents reported her missing ten years ago. She turned up dead four years ago. Someone beat her to death and tossed her body out along Route 17. They carved the letter W into her cheek.”

Sundown grew still and silent. Not for the first time I wondered if his kind had racial memory and could remember those things done to their brethren in the Chal ancient past he refused to discuss with me. His people had been enslaved when they arrived on this world, and that’s all the Chal history I’d gotten out of him.

He drew in a quick, short breath and then blew it out.

“The Chal can help. We are able to go into places where you can not.”

For once, his people would be on my side. “The Elders will sanction that? Right. Tell me another story.”

“I was with the Elders yesterday, apologizing for my actions regarding Sergeant Mack. I have promised them—again—that I will cease to play Sasquatch tricks on him.”

“But did you promise not to play any tricks on him, period, or just the Bigfoot ones?”

He blinked at me, dismay written all over his face. Uh-huh. I had him now. “Chupacabra, perhaps?”

His mouth dropped open. His eyes widened. “That is not me! I’ve never been to Texas!”

Beneath Dark Stars
Gay romance with a paranormal shift available at:

Barnes and Noble/Nook

KC Kendricks
mailing list at:

Wednesday, January 31, 2018

How to fix a dead processor

Image result for computer processor dellJanuary 31, 2018

I've been remiss about blogging this month. As January comes to a close, it seems like a good time to explain myself.  Yes, I've participated in the MidWeek Tease blog hop, but that's promo. And yes promotion is a big part of why I have a blog. Beyond that, blogging keeps me focused on my writing life. 

Hmmm. One could conclude from that I've been focused this January and didn't need to take a look and explore where I am. That's only partially correct. 

Getting Twice Removed From Yesterday out was definitely the high point of the month. And just when I'm cruising on a new story, along comes the computer gremlin. It didn't hit me, thank goodness, but it sure as hell zapped the spousal unit. 

Oh, my God, have you ever seen a grown man whimper? It's not a pretty sight. 

I tried to save his old processor by hitting a restore point. No good. So I did a recovery reset. Even worse. A ten-year-old processor is a ten-year-old processor and when it's dead, it's dead. It's time to yank the hard drive out and play Taps. Thank goodness the man has the important *stuff* backed up. 

I'd hoped he'd be able to use the laptop for a couple of weeks, but he doesn't like a laptop any better than I do. It seems we're both spoiled by unmoving flat surfaces and the ability to scroll with one hand. Imagine that. 

Soooo, with my honey in computer crisis mode, I did the only thing I really could do. I offered him my old processor effective upon receipt of a new processor for me. A one time only good deal that will cost him nothing but an HDMI to VGA adapter for one of my monitors. 

You know he said yes. With any luck, it will arrive tomorrow and all will be happy again at my humble domicile. 

KC Kendricks

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Twice Removed From Yesterday by KC Kendricks

January 24, 2018

Welcome to the MidWeek Tease blog hop! This week I'm debuting the latest book in the Men of Marionville collection, TWICE REMOVED FROM YESTERDAY

New release time! I'm probably not alone in the occasional bout of new release doubt. You know - those moments in the dark of computer hell when one wonders if the spell check is working, where the computer tossed the original manuscript into some obscure folder. When you wonder into what folder the blasted computer dumped the brand new cover you just created into (found it!). This one had it all happen but don't despair - all is well! The book is up everywhere except Amazon and that'll be done soon!

Here's an excerpt from Twice Removed From Yesterday. Be sure to check out the other MidWeek Tease blogs by using the list at the bottom of this post. Enjoy!


That got me a sharp look. “So, you’re just taking advantage of Dylan, are you?”

“No! What is wrong with you, man? You need to relax.” I set the cup of coffee in front of him. “You really need to chill out. Stop pushing people away.”

He put his elbows on the bar and covered his face with his hands. His shoulders slumped. I recognized a man at the end of his endurance when I saw one.

I grasped his wrist. “Hey. You’re exhausted, aren’t you? What can I do to help?”

August raised his head. Our gazes locked. "First off, don’t presume you know anything about me beyond what I tell you. Secondly, I need a glass of water, too.”

“Coming right up.”

I drew a glass of carbonated water from the soda tap and set it in front of him. He drew a small tin from his pocket. “You didn’t see this.”

What I saw was him select a white pill from the tin, neatly crack it in half, and swallow one of the pieces. Did he have a drug problem? Since he’d taken the pill in front of me, I didn’t consider it as being nosey to ask what it was.

“Okay. What sort of medication did I not see you take?”

“I messed up my back so bad ten years ago I was forced to quit the tour. Whenever I’m on my feet for hours on end, it becomes painful. Even with acetaminophen, I won’t take more than I absolutely need to take the edge off.”

Tour? The pro golf tour. I gawked at him as the bits and pieces came together in my mind. “Oh, my God. You’re August Howard. I saw you play at Augusta in the Open. You were really good and then you vanished.”

He grimaced. “Two weeks after Augusta, I unloaded on a tee shot and hit the ground. Herniated disc. Pinched nerves. Two surgeries. No…more…golf.” He pushed the empty water glass in my direction and reached for his coffee. “I can’t even play a par three course now.”

The grief in his voice was palpable. I thought I understood. The guy had had the world by the ass. Money, fame, recognition - and it vanished in a second. Not only had the talent he’d been given been rendered useless, he now lived with physical pain. What did one say in the face of his loss?

“I’m so sorry, man.”

His angry gaze locked with mine. We stared at each other. I refused to blink. To my surprise, his features softened and he took a deep breath as he searched my face.

“I think you mean that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice pitched low to almost a whisper.

“Yeah, August. I do. I can’t imagine losing a dream like that.”

He almost smiled. “Who said golf was my dream?”

I did smile. “You know what they say. Don’t kid a kidder.”

He rapped his knuckles on the bar and slid off the barstool. “We have work to do, kidder. We should get to it so everyone can get out of here and go home for the night.”

I grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Hey. Did we just have a moment?”

August grinned and walked away. 

About Twice Removed From Yesterday

Chandler Beck is at a crossroads. To move forward, he has to take a trip back to the biggest regret in his life. He discovers a man happily settled down with a partner, both of whom are ready to call him a friend. When they offer him a place to rest, Chandler ends up in their guest room and with a job at the best restaurant in town.

Once a rising star on the pro golf circuit, a back injury forced August Howard to give up the game. Swallowing his pride, he accepted a job waiting tables and worked his way up to the manager of The Wharf, the area’s premier restaurant. He’s not happy when the owner does a favor for a friend and hires the seemingly inexperienced Chandler Beck as a bartender.

It doesn’t take Chandler long to win over the prickly August, but August is a man with secrets. Their friendship heats up and when August’s past comes calling, Chandler pays the price. The only option open is for August to confess all and hope those around him, especially Chandler, will accept he’s a different man from who he was in his yesterdays.  


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Wednesday, January 17, 2018

Ace, Deuce, Trey for this week's MidWeek Tease

January 17, 2018

Welcome to another MidWeek Tease! I hope your January is going well! It's cold here and we're getting a bit of snow, although it's not enough to slow anyone down. 

Ace, Deuce, Trey is the third installment in Ian Coulter's Amethyst Cove. Ian's a PI with an FBI lover, a sexy office manager, a movie star client, and a drag queen BFF. Life stays pretty interesting for Ian as he and Rick struggle to work things out. Cases they can solve. Relationship issues between two strong-willed men take a bit more work but they're determined to find a way to be together, especially when their cases overlap. 

Here's an excerpt from Ace, Deuce, Trey. Enjoy!  And be sure to check out all the MWT blogs using the list at the end of this post.


The description of the Harmon con man was a good match to the pictures we had of Saylor’s accuser. I checked the name of the detective on the Harmon case. I didn’t know him but I’d take the chance and call him to let him know I had a client with a similar situation and see what he said. I’d do what I could to ensure this con artist didn’t make Amethyst Cove his permanent home.

The air around me changed, expanded. I froze and listened into the quiet office. The outside door snicked closed. I drew my Sig Sauer P228 and held it in my lap.
“It’s me, Ian.”
I laid the gun on my desk. “You should have yelled first.”
It was so quiet I wondered if my mind had played a trick on me.
“What the fuck are you doing, Rick?”
He swaggered into my office. His hot green gaze slammed into mine. “Making sure the blinds are closed.”
I leaned back and put my feet up on my desk. “I have a gun, bucko. What are your intentions?”
Rick reached behind his back, pulled out his Glock .9mm and laid it beside my pistol. “Mine’s bigger than yours.” He leaned over and kissed me. I pulled back.
“Dream on. That must have been one hell of an arrest and booking to get you so worked up.”
“Oh, it was. Law enforcement agents in three countries are going to dance in the street when word gets around.”
I grinned up at him. “And your name is going to be on the report.”
He shook his head. “Not mine, no. I have an alias, you know.”
That was news to me. “Because you’ve done undercover work for the Treasury?”
Rick grasped my ankles and lifted them off my desk. I set my feet on the floor and he went to his knees in front of me.
“And I might have to do it again so my team second gets the credit and the public glory on this one.”
I spread my knees and he slid his big, warm hands up the inside of my thighs to my balls. “You have something in mind here, Mr. FBI man?”
“You don’t have anything to say about the fact I might have to go undercover again?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Something you need to fill me in about?”
“No, no. I’ve let it be known I’m the last option for those assignments.” He pulled my shirttail out of my jeans. “I even told them why.”
“That’s a good career move. ‘I’m gay and I’m shacked up so don’t call me.’ I bet your boss loved that.”
My cock swelled as Rick eased my zipper down. “He laughed at me. In my face. So I beat the shit out of him.”
I snorted. “Right. On the shooting range. What do you think you’re doing?”
He yanked my pants down and all but dragged me out of the chair to the floor. “I’m going to do you in your office, darling. It’ll be a fantasy come true.”
“I’ll scream.” I wiggled my ass to aid him in getting my jeans down and out of the way.
“Yes you will before I’m done with you.”


About Ace, Deuce, Trey:

Doing the job is easy but figuring out the relationship is tougher. Fitting their lives together isn’t without obstacles, but one thing is certain. On or off the case, Ian and Rick always get their man.

Ian Coulter has his hands full with a sexy office assistant, a favorite movie star client and a drag queen determined to save the world one lost runaway at a time. He can juggle all of it because he and his lover, FBI agent Rick Mohr, are finally together.

Rick’s transfer to Amethyst Cove puts him in charge of multiple operations. When one of Ian’s clients is targeted, it doesn’t take long for Ian to suspect the con artist is on an FBI watch list. With their cases overlapping, Ian and Rick are short on time. Together they set a trap and spring it before their suspect escapes.

Sunday, January 14, 2018

Happy Birthday to my darling Deuce!

January 14, 2018

My darling Deuce is two years old today! What a joy he's been and he is - every day. 

He was a whopping nine pounds when we brought him home. Today he's eighty pounds of muscle wrapped in a sleek, shiny black coat. He takes up a lot of room in the bed but we wouldn't have it any other way. The pack that sleeps together, stays together, or something like that. 

Deuce is chronicling his life in his very own blog, Deuce's Day. . We invite you to stop by and see what his dog's life is like. It has its moments. 

Happy Birthday, Deucie-baby! 


Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Deuce of Diamonds for my first MidWeek Tease of 2018

January 10, 2018

Welcome to another MidWeek Tease! I hope your holiday season was everything you wanted it to be. Mine wasn't, but it's okay. Sometimes things are out of our control. We're moving on for 2018 and getting back in the swing of things. Be sure to check out all the MWT blogs using the list at the end of this post.

Deuce of Diamonds is the second installment in Ian Coulter's Amethyst Cove. Ian's a PI with an FBI lover, a sexy office manager, a movie star client, and a drag queen BFF. Life stays pretty interesting for Ian as he and Rick struggle to work things out. Cases they can solve. Relationship issues between two strong-willed men take a bit more work but they're determined to find a way to be together. 

Here's an excerpt from Deuce of Diamonds. Enjoy!


His gaze slammed into mine, hot with anger that didn’t touch me. “I was a fool to walk away from you. ‘One more try’ he said. What a joke.”

“I’m sorry.” And I was sorry he’d been hurt.

“Jesus, Ian. I knew when I left you standing there on the street, leaning on your car tipping your hat at Frank Bunson, it was a mistake to give Johnavan a last chance.”

He’d seen my little act of defiance at Frankie-boy? Huh.

“Why was it a mistake?”

His mouth dropped open. “Why? Why? Why the fuck do you think?”

“I think all sorts of things, Rick. I’d like for you to tell me the truth so I can make sense of some it.”

“It was a mistake because I’d met you.” He sighed heavily. “I didn’t …my heart wasn’t really in giving him another try.”

“And yet you did.”

“I wish I could lie to you, Ian, but I can’t. I’m not that big a bastard. You know what I thought? I thought I’d get him moved back east where he’d be happy and I’d be free to move on.”

I winced inwardly. Rick wasn’t a cold or calculating man in his personal life. “So how’d that work out for you?”

“How the fuck do you think?” He scrubbed his palms over his face. “I’m not good doing things to deliberately hurt people. He didn’t find a job right away, so I couldn’t just say ‘bye’ and leave him without rent money, now could I?”

That sounded more like him. “No, you couldn’t. Did he get a job or find someone else?”

Rick looked at me, a mix of emotions on his handsome face. He shook his head and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “I came home from a day at the office and he was all packed and ready to go. It seems he used me as his ticket back to New York.”

“Oh, jeez. Hoist with your own petard.”

“Yeah, Shakespeare. I was. So I said it was fine and decided to enjoy a couple of weeks of solitude to make sure my head was out of my ass. Then you fucking call me and you’re going the fuck out with movie star Saylor Blackwood and I’m a fucking idiot!”

My joints went to jelly as the realization he was jealous I’d tricked Saylor sank into my brain. I grinned at him. “You’re not too fucking stupid. You are here now.”

“And you want to sleep on the couch!”

I echoed his tone. “Well maybe not!”

We stared at each other.


About Deuce of Diamonds:

Private investigator Ian Coulter has a knack for finding trouble even when he’s minding his own business. Ian’s in the midst of a routine weekly job for movie star client Saylor Blackwood when the man confides he thinks he has a fan turned stalker. Ian stays close to Saylor to observe the people around him and gets an unwelcome shock when FBI agent Rick Mohr contacts him.

Rick Mohr has a problem. Ian’s name just popped up on an FBI watch list. Rick knows it’s guilt by association where Ian is concerned, but what about Blackwood? Rick won’t allow Ian to get dragged into the mix when he’s not involved. For Ian, he’ll break whatever confidentiality rule necessary.

It doesn’t take long for Ian and Rick to join forces to clear Ian’s name and get to the bottom of what’s going on in Amethyst Cove, because on or off the case, together is how they work best.

The sequel to Double Deuce
contemporary gay romance

KC Kendricks
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Tuesday, January 9, 2018

The writer in the new year

January 9, 2018

When I embarked on this so-called writing career, there were a few things of which I was unaware. Yes, it's true. I was the perfect example of the neophyte. I was lucky enough to get some good advice early on, and perhaps I should recount that here for posterity. It's really quite simple: keep track of everything you do. 

Welcome to 2018 and the blank spreadsheet! 

With the arrival of January, it's time to close out the last year's spreadsheets. I have spreadsheets for everything. It's ridiculous but necessary. 

Taxes. I have individual folders for each tax year and a spreadsheet summary on all income and expenses for each year. It makes filing the annual tax return a lot easier. 

Activity. Speaking of taxes, I may one day need to prove I actually "participated" in the business I report income and expenses on. I have a spreadsheet with book names, dates, word count progress, completion date, upload to the .com date, and release date. 

Sales. I have a spreadsheet to track the number of copies sold per book and the income per book. This is also handy at tax time but mostly it's because I think it's important to know these things. 

Backup your work. It's January so I have a new jump drive (memory stick, flash drive, whatever you prefer to call it). I keep the old ones in a little box just in case something fucking weird should happen. 

Ideas. I have a spreadsheet with possible titles and possible character names. The best titles come to me while I'm driving. I've actually called home to ask Himself to write down a title for me so I don't forget it by the time I get to my computer. 

Who, in the beginning, knew writing was a business? Not me. But you know what? It's sort of a mood booster to look back over those spreadsheets at the beginning of a new year and pause for a moment. Looking at the data can bring to mind specific moments in the evolution of each creation, a snapshot only the author can see. 

Rather than inciting me to rest on my laurels, they send me forward to the next story. I will make the first wordcount entry on a new spreadsheet and feel as though I've accomplished something that binds my past, present, and future as a whole. 

I like that. 

KC Kendricks

Saturday, December 30, 2017

2017 - Looking back at a year of change

December 30, 2017

This has not been a year I will remember with much gladness. Much of what I'd hoped to accomplish is left undone. If I simply say I'm caring for aging parents, most of you will know exactly what that entails and I need not expand on the facts. It's been a year of change. Nonetheless, I won't be deterred. Slowed down, yes. Stopped, no. 

Now on to the writing front! 

First up in 2017 was Undeniable. I didn't do much of a re-release launch for this one due to how many copies went out in the original release. To my chagrin, I missed out. I should have done more promo because it went well again. I highlighted this book on January 14th, which just happens to be Deuce's birthday. He was one year old, and as we approach his second birthday, he is undeniably a joy in my life. MSS also went on hiatus with a projected return date in June. It didn't happen and after all this time I doubt that vehicle will return. 

In February, Bourbon and Blues debuted! It's always fun to take two characters and plop them down in circumstances they'd never find themselves in on a good day. Kory and Griff meet in the drunk tank, a place neither of them had ever been before, nor will be again. Lady Fate does like to have her fun although getting locked in a cemetery after hours is, I admit, nothing I would chuckle about. 

Bourbon and Blues is part of The Men of Marionville series. Dylan, Cassidy, and Leon make cameo appearances. Revisiting old friends is why I love this series so much. It's nice to check in with them to see how they're getting along. 

In March I performed an experiment with the Sundown Saga. I *think* that story is finished although as a writer I know to never say never again or there will be more. My experiment consisted of putting all five Sundown stories into a mega-book with a limited release. Strangely enough, it depended on the vendor as to how well received it was. Amazon, with all the free stuff, was a bust. I may offer the mega book again sometime, but not on Big A. 

I sat out the 2017 A to Z Blogging Challenge due to changes in the format. Guess what? I didn't miss it. I was too busy putting the finishing touches on Chain Lightning.

I like to call Chain Lightning a contemporary shapeshifter. Eli and Rio are true shapeshifters, able to take on any form the situation calls for. I think it's more fun than having them restricted to just one creature alter ego. Maybe I should stop watching Ancient Aliens. 

By the time May rolled around I grappled with what has been a constant burr under my saddle - noise. Specifically, the noise the man of the house creates when watching any sport on the television. The 2017 baseball season promised to be rather miserable. I gave up my lovely merlot inspired office where every story I'd ever written to that point was created. I moved to the sunroom, desk, computer, lock, stock, and dog. It's much, much quieter. And with windows on three sides, very light and breezy. I catch myself staring out the windows instead of working. I will confess comfortable digs doesn't negate the feelings of resentment I continue to harbor after being driven insane by the ceaseless shouting at the TV screen. ("And that, Your Honor, is when it happened.")

Next on the agenda was the re-release of Passion's Victory. This story was a Romance Studio CAPA nominee in its debut back in 2008. It's a complex story - an age difference, an on the job romance, grief, and having the courage to make a leap with someone who has an uncertain future. Even with all that, the ending is one of hope and victory. I love this story as much today as when it was written. 

Several years ago, I co-wrote two series with Christiana France. With the closing of Amber Quill, we decided to each take a series and run with it. I pulled the card for The Ghost at the B and B and she got The Escort. We maintain equal writing credits on the covers and copyrights. I'm delighted with the way it worked out. The Ghost at the B and B is actually three stories combined into one edition. Writing the ghost gave me idea after idea for more ghost stories. All I need now is time. The series is set in Williamsburg, Virginia, which is one of my favorite vacation destinations.

July brought another re-release, or rather two. Shining Victory and No One But You tells the story of Stacy and Levi. Shining Victory is written from Stacy's point of view. No One But You picks up five years later from Levi's point of view.  I re-read the pair before the re-release and was amazed I wrote them. 

Life intruded in the second half of the year. I was needed elsewhere and all the best-laid writing plans needed to be put on hold. But one thing was ready - Surrendered Victory. Surrendered Victory is where it all began for KC Kendricks. Sometimes it's difficult to believe I've been "KC" in my writing life for ten years now. 

Surrendered Victory represents several "firsts." The first contemporary gay romance I penned, the first KC book, the first acceptance at Amber Quill which was a good company back in 2008. I still consider it to be one of my finest works. 

Currently, there are two works-in-progress. One is another installment in the Men of Marionville series and the second has a ghostly theme. The MOM story is all but finished, the friendly spirit barely begun. I'll get there, eventually.

The year of our Lord 2017 didn't pan out as I hoped. One of the better things about gaining life experience is one learns to roll with what comes your way. The needs of loved ones has me moving in a reactive mode instead of a proactive mode. My mother has Alzheimer's Disease and if 2018 sees her passing, that will bring a mixture of sadness and relief. It will also bring a new phase of living to my life. When it happens, as it surely will, my hope is to return more fully to the pages and submerge myself back into writing. For now, the writer is forced to operate on the fringes but she's still operating. 

I hope you'll come with me, down into the spaces between the keys.

KC Kendricks

The 2016 Retrospective

The 2015 Retrospective

The 2014 Retrospective

The 2013 Retrospective

The 2012 Retrospective