Saturday, August 25, 2012

A little help from a friend

August 25, 2012

I love Saturday mornings. I get up at the crack of dawn and settle in for some serious writing time. The world is quiet....if my partner isn't snoring in the next room. My two boys always keep me company. The dog flops down behind my chair (he snores, too) and the cat... well, the cat does what he damn well pleases. This morning, he thought he'd give me an assist.

I think this fellow wants his face on another book cover. He clearly wants something I'm not currently providing. I guess I'd better figure it out or I'll never get any more work done.



Thursday, August 23, 2012

Earthquake? Really?

August 23, 2012

The best thing my father taught me is just because something is deadly serious doesn't mean it's not funny. He had a wonderful sense of humor and the quick wit of the Gemini. I'm sorry he missed what would have been, for him, prime material.

One year ago today, on August 23, 2011, the east coast of the United States had a true Carol King moment - the earth moved under our feet. Centered in Mineral, Virginia, the 5.8 magnitude quake rumbled as far away as Ontario, Canada. News of the quake spread faster than the shock wave. People in New York learned about it on Twitter fifteen seconds before they felt the quake. Such are the times we live in.

This earthquake is the only one I've ever experienced, I'm delighted to say. I didn't enjoy it. I spend the work week trapped in an old building, and when said old building began to vibrate, I was not pleased. When my chair began its possessed roll sideways, I knew it was time to run before the ceiling collapsed. (The roof above my head is where several HVAC units sit. Would you have simply sat there? I don't think so.) Being there alone that afternoon, I grabbed my purse and exited the building - fast.

Outside, the world seemed so normal. No sirens blaring. No motorists out of their cars wandering about the street looking dazed. Never having felt an earthquake before, I thought something HAD happened inside the building and I began to look for smoke or some tell-tale sign of an explosion. There was nothing. Nada.

At this point, I questioned my sanity.

Then my cellphone rang - my friend in Kansas calling.

"How'd you like the earthquake?" she asked.

"Is that what the fuck that was?" I replied. (My language deteriorates in direct proportion to the world tilting under my feet.)

I perched on the fender of my car and enjoyed the sunshine for a wee bit while we chatted and I convinced myself it was safe to go back inside. When I did, news of the quake was all over the Internet and I caught up.

I called my partner to see how he and the house fared. He wasn't home, but he was fine. In the end it shook out that people in smaller structures didn't get the same vibration people in larger structures did. Large mass versus small mass. Simple equation.

Thankfully, and most importantly, no one in my community was injured, and property damage was minimal. And that's why we can look back on the August 23, 2011 earthquake and laugh at our reactions. 

Because it's good to laugh at yourself sometimes. Keep smiling!

KC

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Reviewed: A Cat Named Hercules

August 22, 2012

Many thanks to Madison at MM Good Book Reviews for the kind words in the review of A Cat Named Hercules. (Not to mention giving Herc 5 Hearts!) You made my day!

Here's a snippet from the review:

These two have amazing chemistry both in and out of the bedroom. They are a perfect match. They adore each other, just as much as they adore the feisty little kitty cat that brought them together. I hesitate to call this story “adorable” (although it is) only because it was also very, very hot. K.C. Kendricks not only lets us peek inside the bedroom, she also lets us peek right under the covers to witness all of Gale’s firsts in what are some very steamy love scenes. Once I started reading, I could not put this one down! Loved it! - Madison

You can read the entire review here.


Now for a bit about the book. You didn't think I'd let you go without a steamy promo, did you???



A CAT NAMED HERCULES
Book five in the Men of Marionville series

Now available at AmazoniTunesBarnes and NobleKobo and other online book sellers


New in town, Shiloh Rudy joins a group of civic-minded volunteers to better acquaint himself with his recently adopted community. It’s a good way to make friends, network, and help make a difference, not to mention perhaps meet someone interesting—in a romantic sort of way. The one thing Shiloh didn’t expect was a love to rival all others to come with four white paws.

Gale Widmyer is on his feet and moving forward after piecing his life back together following a series of wrong choices. The one bright spot in his existence, even in his darkest moments, was the fulfillment of his dream to become a veterinarian. Gale’s making good on a promise to himself when an abandoned kitten leads him to Shiloh Rudy and a chance at the happiness he never hoped to have.

Laying the cornerstone for a developing relationship comes easy for Shiloh and Gale. But the wounds of the past often remain unhealed at their deepest point. A few careless words erect a wall of silence between the two men, one Shiloh has to breach if he hopes to win Gale back. But it will take more than apologies to win Gale’s forgiveness and put old fears to rest. It’ll take a cat named Hercules...

INTRO:

…The abrupt weaning I understood, but the other? Who would do that to such a helpless creature? “Then I’m keeping him.”

“In that case, your kitten has fleas, ear mites, and a touch of conjunctivitis. He’s also under nourished and almost surely has worms.”

My heart pounded as I snatched the kitten from Galen’s hands and tucked him safely against my chest. “Is he going to die?”

Galen pushed his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head and grinned at me. I fell into his gorgeous hazel eyes as he stared into my sky blue orbs with open curiosity. Damn, the man had long eyelashes.

“He’ll be fine. Do you think we can finish our chores here this morning, or do we need to go straight to my clinic so I can treat him and fix you up with what you need?” He poked the kitten’s paw and those tiny, wicked claws popped out again. “You’re in for a real treat with this little guy.”

I’d go anywhere he asked me to go, but I didn’t want to appear too eager. “Oh? Why is that?”

“They call cats with these black and white markings a ‘tuxedo’ because, obviously, they look like they’re wearing one. This fellow has the added bonus of white ‘gloves.’ Tuxedos tend to have a lot of personality.” Galen squeezed my elbow. I thought his hand lingered a moment too long, but perhaps it was just wishful thinking.

“C’mon. I’ll tell the other work crew they’ll have to finish pulling up these bricks and we’ll go to the clinic.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.”

I knew I was in two kinds of trouble when he nodded and grinned. “I’m afraid you will…”


EXCERPT

...Gale opened his front door and moved back so I could step inside. Complimenting his choice of attire required breathing, and he’d knocked the air right out of me. Black slacks, a maroon-and-black long sleeved knit shirt in a classic argyle pattern, and loafers had never affected me like this before. I managed to speak the inane phrase.

“Wow. You look great.”

He smiled at me as he closed the door. “Thanks. So do you.”

Gale reached for me, then stopped. I hated to see his uncertainty. It was more proof he needed to do some living before he got serious about anyone, including me. I smiled and closed the distance between us, slipping my arms around his waist. Our lower bodies touched, then he leaned into me. His lips opened as my mouth covered his, and I tasted the cinnamon freshness of chewing gum recently disposed of. He pulled away.

“What? You’re grinning.”

“I am. I just learned what gum you like.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re a little nuts, aren’t you?”

I was nuts about him, but I couldn’t say the words aloud. “I’m no more crazy than the next guy.” I kissed him again, enjoying the connection between us.

Gale deepened the kiss and my body responded with a delicious jolt of arousal that sent heat all the way to my toes. My cock swelled, eager to convince to me to forget dinner and go hungry this evening. Gale rested his forehead on my shoulder.

“I could get all stupid and say we should forget dinner and just go to bed.”

I ran my hands over his back, feeling the lines and planes of the lean body under the soft shirt. Was he hard, too? I cupped his ass to steady him and pressed my pelvis tightly to his.

“We’re at the same level of ‘stupid,’ but we’ve got to eat.” I squeezed his butt. “Don’t we?”

His stomach rumbled, and we laughed. I loved being able to laugh with him. He kissed me with those cinnamon-flavored lips again, then released me. “I am hungry, Shiloh. Let me get a jacket.”

“We have time for a quickie, you know.” Damn. I shouldn’t have said that. The sharp interest in his shining gaze was total agreement. He grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the oak stairs.

“Nice place you have here.”

“Don’t try and change the subject. Remember, I’ve been deprived. I have to make up for lost time.”

I barely noticed his bedroom. We’d both dressed for each other with such care and now clothing flew in all directions. His hands brushed across my chest, cool with excitement, then he turned away. Gale yanked the bedspread down and jerked open a drawer in the large bookcase headboard and tossed condoms and lube onto the pale blue sheet. I grabbed his hips and bumped my pelvis to his ass.

“No time for that.” I planted my left knee on the bed, held on tight to him, and rolled us onto the mattress. “Hand job. Then we get some food into us so we can come back and do it better.”

He grunted as he broke free of my grasp and crawled up to the pillows. “I guess we can leave our socks on, huh?”

“Yep.” I knelt over him. Gale laughed and caressed the inside of my thighs. I shivered, but not with cold. My sac tingled and drew tight to my body as he cupped it.

“Tell me you don’t plan to shoot all over me again.”

I grinned and flopped down beside him. “Not tonight, at least.”

“What do you plan to do to me?” He shifted to face me.

I rolled onto my side and fisted his hard dick.

“Just this right now...”


A CAT NAMED HERCULES
contemporary gay romance

Book five in the Men of Marionville series

Now available at AmazoniTunesBarnes and NobleKobo and other online book sellers

The inspiration for Hercules. He's such a ham! 





KC Kendricks
website at: http://www.kckendricks.com
blog: http://www.kckendricks.blogspot.com
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/kckendricks
mailing list at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/betweenthekeys

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Errant thoughts

August 21, 2012

It's only seven months until the 2013 A to Z Blogging Challenge begins.

I don't have a clue what to have for dinner tonight.

What recipe can I send in for the ARE cookbook? Need to find one. 

My ad in the ARE Wildfire newsletter might be in today. 

The 2012-13 bowling season starts next week. I need a new wrist brace this year. Gotta save my hands for typing stories.

There's an Amber Quill chat at Love Romances Cafe tonight. I'm not sure I'll make it, but I might.

I'm supposed to blog at The Rainbow Studio next Monday. What'll I say??

How popular are audio books? I should find out.

I have no idea what those things have in common or why I thought of them at basically the same time. Maybe it's a manifestation of the general jumble of weird my day has been.  Or maybe the approach of quitting time kicked my brain into gear. The gray matter is definitely like jello tonight. 

Damn. I'd better watch out for zombies!

KC

Monday, August 20, 2012

Driver Beware

August 20, 2012

I've noticed an increasing trend in my community, and it's not a good one. There seems to be a segment of the population that is deliberately trying to sucker other drivers into bad judgement calls that cause accidents. It happened again this morning, and what really got my attention was the same driver did it to me three short days ago.

Living out in the country as I do, it's a daily jaunt to the state highway. Last Friday, I stopped at the stop sign (of course) and checked both ways for traffic. This old, battered wreck of a white and rusted car was traveling westbound with the right-turn signal blinking. Being the non-trusting sort of driver, I waited for him to slow and turn before I pulled out onto the highway.

Only - he didn't slow and turn. He kept going. And he flipped me off as he drove past me - why I had no clue. Just for breathing, I supposed at the time. Or for having the nerve to drive a Charger, maybe? As soon as I pulled out behind him, the turn signal went off.

He did the exact same thing this morning.

It's alarming to realize the same complete stranger, for no good reason, has twice now tried to lure me to make a stupid move. It's even more alarming to hear co-workers say they've had similar things happen. One has actually changed her route to work to avoid a four-way stop after a man in another car waved her through then quickly accelerated toward her when she moved forward. Luckily she was able to stop before a collision that would have legally appeared to be her fault.  

So what's going on here? Did someone put a sign on my car I can't see that reads, "Has insurance - okay to sue?"

Driver beware. There's a new threat on the road, and this one is truly malicious.

KC

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Anointing the new family Patriarch

August 19, 2012

My summer has been full of family. It's been a few years since we've come together this often for so many different things. Every other week we're celebrating *something* wonderful, and in the off weeks, we've got our heads together on this-or-that project. Birthdays, anniversaries, baby showers, a wedding, impromptu picnics, a new pool (yeah I sure like that one!) and, yesterday, the family reunion. Still ahead is a trip south to visit my step-son.

I know why my side of the family was so quiet last year. The death of a beloved aunt cast a pall over all of us. But time heals, and this summer has been a wonderful affirmation of who we are now.  We, my partner and I, made a similar passage a few years ago when his mother and uncle died within a month of each other. Siblings, niece's, nephews and cousins all, we've woven new threads to mend the tears in the fabric of family left by sudden departures.

At the reunion yesterday, the family, et al, seemed to suddenly realize that only one member of their parent's generation remains - an aunt. My beloved is now the family patriarch. He's been well aware of easing into this role for a couple of years, but by now it seems everyone else is ready to acknowledge his is the new senior generation, and he is the oldest male.

I'm not sure this is a good thing. The man already believes he's the Boss of All He Surveys. But, as I told his sisters, I'm up to the challenge of keeping his ego in check. I've been doing it for twenty or so years. I've had practice.

Joking aside, it was good to be among his family and know that I'm not considered "an in-law." I'm simply part of the family. Wouldn't it be wonderful if every family were as accepting of all its members? The world would be a warmer place.

The Patriarch partied with the siblings until the wee hours and consequently missed the sibling breakfast. I didn't need to say a word to remind him he used to be able to party all night and go all day. He's got that one covered himself. But such whining!

I didn't even try not to snicker at him. I didn't even try to refrain from pointing out the obvious to him - I was up, showered, dressed and ready to go. The only defense he offered was he's ten years older than me, and one day, I, too, would no longer be able to party half the night away and get up at seven a.m.  I kicked my sneakers off and told him he might be the newly anointed family Patriarch, but since he wasn't buying my breakfast, he could cook it.

So he did, and with great aplomb, too. I only regret I didn't get a picture.

KC Kendricks

website at: http://www.kckendricks.com
blog: http://www.kckendricks.blogspot.com
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Saturday, August 4, 2012

The Passing of an Era

August 4, 2012

Life is a mixed bag of events. You win some, you lose some, you cherish the good memories, and try to move on from the bad. I’ve been so very blessed in my life with good memories - so many, I’ve discovered, I don’t remember them all until reminded.

This morning, I was up and out of the house at six o’clock to meet my closest cousin to end an era in our lives. This man is more brother to me than cousin. We were raised side-by-side, our respective parents in my maternal linage being siblings, and then he and I only children. I met him on the road in front of our grandparents’ house and we shared coffee and memories.

We grew up in the modest brick house attached to an old log cabin, built by our grandfather. I lived there longer, but it hardly matters. In the late 1950’s we were all there - grandparents, parents, and two spoiled toddlers. The bond remains strong whereas all things brick and mortar are fleeting. While the brick house stood firm decades beyond the crumbling logs, Time will have her way. Her most wicked tools are not wind, water and fire, but the stubborn pride and fragility of humans in declining years.  

When our grandfather passed, the last of our first generation, all agreed my cousin should get the home place to ease the way of the fourth generations, and to place a trust for the fifth, which is growing. To build their future, our past must give way.

My cousin-brother and I reminisced for a while, and then Time demanded her due. By ten o’clock, the brick house was gone. In some small selfish way, I’m glad no future stranger will ever live there. It belonged to my grandparents, and they to it. The joy that lived in the house was Family, and I’m well content that it will always belong only to us.

As I write this, the smell of smoke lingers, but is already fading. What will never fade are the memories of life in that house, that haven a good man built for the family he cherished above all else. It was a hard decision, and my cousin-brother and I have shed tears over it, but never harsh words.

Would our grandparents be sad to see the house gone? I’m sure they would be. It was their home, where they raised their family into the third generation - my own. But now a new house will be built, almost where the old one stood. Another member of the fourth generation is about to marry and, hopefully, in due time, present us with new toddlers to play in the yard where my mother and uncle played, and where my cousin-brother and I picked dandelion blooms on bright spring days for a nickel.

And that will please the spirits of my grandparents.

KC Kendricks