Saturday, April 30, 2011

Zee End

April 30, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 26 - Z

We’re finally to ‘Z’ in the A to Z Blogging marathon. I wasn’t sure I could pull it off – don’t go there – but here I am, at Zee. One thing is for sure - Zee is not final. It’s not an end in and of itself. It’s a stepping-stone to another level, one that I feel challenged to attain. Zee is having kept the commitment to complete the challenge and looking forward to next year.

The 2011 A-Z Blogging Challenge brought bloggers from all over the Internet together. I stopped by the blogs of writers, gardeners, movie lovers, chefs, moms, music lovers - you name it, the bloggers were there. How wonderful to have a glimpse into the lives of so many and see how the things I love are shared by others.

Sadly, the A-Z 2011 Blogging Challenge has to end. Zee must be met for this year and I must get back to zee writing. Thanks to everyone who stopped by Between the Keys, especially those who decided to click the follow button. I hope you’ve gotten a smile or two, or at least been entertained in some fashion.

Will I do the A to Z Challenge in 2012? It depends on where I am in my life to some extend, but I plan to regardless of those unexpected things the future may bring. I'm already plotting and planning, on the lookout for interesting topics for all the letters. Perhaps I'll even blog on one central theme. Check back and see.

I need to keep going toward my goal of a better me, to remember that no matter how hard I work or how much I learn, it’s likely my best will always be out there ahead of me, in the undiscovered country. I’ll make it there, someday. Rest assured I travel a path that allows me to enjoy the journey.

KC Kendricks
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Friday, April 29, 2011

In Celebration of Yellow

What sort of blogger would I be if I didn't comment on the Royal Wedding? It was a given Katie-Catherine would look stunning. Okay - she was absolutely-completely-utterly-regally stunning and I'm sincerely happy for her.

But I was also pleasantly surprised at the Queen. She was a little ray of sunshine in yellow. No matter your politics - love the monarchy, hate the monarchy or couldn't care less - today isn't the day to quibble over anything. And to that end I'll give the old gal her grandmotherly due - in celebration of yellow.

Yellow Cars

April 29, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 25 - Y

There’s something about a yellow car that grabs the attention. They’re like a burst of moving sunshine. I’ve never owned one, nor do I plan to, but I confess I like them.

I take it back. I certainly would own one like this.

Or this. I actually did own a 1969 Camaro, like this one, only in that weird shade of medium green Chevy had year.

Oh, heck. I fibbed again. Give me a Gibbs car!

Or a Nash Bridges ride!

And let’s not forget two-time Winston Cup champ Terry Labonte’s best ride. It was easy to keep an eye on the rooster, back in the day.

A buddy of mine had one of these. He was a little Starsky and Hutch crazy, but he got over it before he ruined this paint scheme.

And so goes the next to the last day of the A to Z 2011 Blogging Challenge. I hope you enjoyed the sunbursts.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Xanthippe for a day

April 28, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 24 - X

I think it would be appropriate to confess the letter ‘X’ almost stumped me. There are the usual “X Factor” ideas, and the list of strange and obscure words begging with the letter X, but I don’t count those as too original. And let’s not mention my fear that with all us authors blogging about the really cool X-words that are out there, some reviewer whose wit does not outpace the English language will start using them to describe contemporary gay romance books. (Make a bet, anyone?)

In my quest for X, I did find this one and it struck a chord:
xanthippe- an ill-tempered woman. That might very well describe me today. Here I am, all the way to X, and the well of words has filled with silt, and it’s made me cranky.

And cranky authors are not a good thing. Unless you're Maxine.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

What You Don't Confess by KC Kendricks

April 27, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 23 - W

What You Don't Confess
Contemporary gay romance

What You Don't Confess is available now at 
AmazoniTunesBarnes and NobleKobo and other online book sellers.

Bright and beautiful, Cassidy Barlow is one of Marionville’s new breed of movers and shakers. Outspoken on political and social issues, Cass draws a lot of media attention, and knows how to us it. Out and proud, Cass makes no apologies for who he is, or who he wants – and he wants Dylan Donaghy. The only thing is, from where Cass stands, Dylan seems to be involved with two different men.

Coming out. The most difficult phrase in Dylan Donaghy’s vocabulary. Handsome, successful, wealthy, he’s made it this far in life with only his closest friends knowing he’s gay. Dylan has a good reason for that to change – his deepening attraction to Cassidy Barlow. It doesn’t come easy, but Dylan takes a few first steps out of the closet. It’s his only choice if he wants to be with Cass, even though he knows Cass has some secrets of his own.

Every man has a private past, and an unwritten future. What he won’t confess stands between the two.


“You do know those four watchdogs of yours were there the entire evening, don’t you?”

I nodded. “They like to keep an eye on me. Obviously, it didn’t discourage you at all.”

His hand gripped my shoulders again. His amber gaze drilled into mine. “Just so I don’t step in it, Dylan, how many of them have you slept with? And don’t lie to me.”

I fought back against of wave of anger. How dare he imply I’d not tell him the truth? Being astute, he knew he’d pissed me off. I saw the apology in his eyes as he touched his fingertips to my lips.

“That didn’t come out right, Dylan.”

“ Apology accepted. Before today, I might have told you it was none of your business, but now I think you should know. We’re no longer intimate, but I have a very close, special relationship with both Travis and Tyler. I’m very happy for them that they both found a partner.”

“That’s what I figured out Friday night when they spent all that time running in and out of an area marked ‘private’. Especially Templeton.”

“Don’t test me too often, Cass. I don’t like it.” I spoke sharper than intended, but he needed to know my boundaries. “There’s a lot of space between your age and mine. Be careful not to judge until you get to where I am.”

Those restless hands of his skimmed along my sides. “I’m not being judgmental, I swear. I just needed to know what the dynamics are between you and them so I don’t put both feet in my mouth.”

“Okay. I get it. And for what it’s worth, all four of them, especially Travis, are rooting for you.”

“Really? He’s in my corner, is he?” Cass tucked his fingers under my belt and tugged. I levered my weight off the door and stepped past him, capturing his hand to pull him into the casual space I used for informal gatherings.

“He’s using tough love on me when it comes to you, so don’t be shocked, or surprised, at his little quips. Have a seat.”

Cass eased down on the love seat and patted the spot beside him. I ignored him, and went to the bar. “What would you like to drink?”

“Ginger ale?”

I nodded and poured two, handing his to him with an apology it didn’t come in a brandy snifter as I settled in beside him. I stopped him when he moved to put his arm around me.

“You’re killing me here, Dylan.”

“No, I’m not.” I sipped my drink. “Cass, I don’t want to make a misstep with you. I know what you want tonight, but what do you want next week? Or next month? Christ, what do I want next week?”

He leaned back and watched me with those amber eyes. His cool, even regard gave little indication of his thoughts. Cass downed his drink in three fast swallows, then swirled the ice around in the bottom of the empty glass.

“Do you always think everything to death, Dylan?”

“It’s a hazard one encounters in middle age.”

“I’m not some mistake you’ll regret when you’re ninety.”

I laid my hand on his thigh. The heat of his skin penetrated his jeans, and snaked up my arm. “You’re right, you know. I won’t regret meeting you, whether dinner is all we share, or we become friends, or if we become lovers.”

“Or? If? I don’t appreciate being jerked around.”

“Well, poor little you that I haven’t figured this out yet.”

Cass’s mouth dropped open, then snapped closed. He stared at me, blinked, and stared again. I reveled in private glee that I’d seen him speechless twice in one day, but that amusement was strongly tempered by the knowledge I had him too far off balance. I squeezed his knee.

“Look, Cass. I’m not jerking you around. Getting involved with someone isn’t easy for me. I’ve never been someone who gets a hard-on for a guy and loses my mind until I fuck him. I have to think things through, and consider the impact it may have on my life.”

He shook his head. “Babe, you’ve got to start living in the moment, and stop living in fear.” Cass set his empty glass down on the end table and stood. With angry, disappointed eyes, he met my gaze. A muscle moved in his clenched jaw.

My heart beat painfully. I knew what he was going to say...


What You Don't Confess is available now at 
AmazoniTunesBarnes and NobleKobo and other online book sellers.

KC Kendricks
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Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Vino & Violets

April 26, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 22 - V

We're in the home stretch of the A to Z Blogging Challenge month. The days have has flown past. Presenting a blog every day has not been a chore, although I would never say there have not been a few challenging moments. It's taken a great deal of time - enjoyable time - and that's fine. As we near the finish line, I'm pleased I will cross it.

I'm not sure what made me think of Vino and Violets for today. Perhaps a more logical choice would have been to promo the Victory series, but out of memory came the following poem. I'm sure my tenth grade English teacher would be surprised if I could tell her the six weeks of poetry she shoved at us weren't entirely wasted.

Reading the poem again led straight to The Days of Wine and Roses, so I've included those lyrics as well.

I'll leave you to your own interpretation of the poem. Like art in the eye of the beholder, what it means to you is the important thing.

"Vitae Summa Brevis"

They are not long,
the weeping and the laughter,
Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no
portion in us after
We pass the gate.
They are not long,
the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while,
then closes Within a dream.
–Ernest Dowson (1867-1900)

* * * *

The Days of Wine and Roses

The days of wine and roses laugh
and run away like a child at play
Through a meadow land
toward a closing door
A door marked "nevermore"
that wasn't there before

The lonely night discloses
just a passing breeze filled with memories
Of the golden smile that introduced me to
The days of wine and roses and you

The lonely night discloses just
a passing breeze filled with memories
Of the golden smile that introduced me to
The days of wine and roses and you.
_Johnny Mercer

KC Kendricks
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Monday, April 25, 2011

The Undiscovered Country

April 25, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 21 - U

“I offer a toast: the undiscovered country – the future.” - the future (and late) Chancellor Gorkon of the Klingon Empire
* * *

Marty McFly: What about all that talk about screwing up future events? The space-time continuum?Dr. Emmett Brown:Well, I figured, what the hell! – Back to the Future* * *

“Just because something is unknown does not necessarily mean it needs to be feared.” - Teyla Emmagan, Stargate Atlantis
* * *

“If we fail to anticipate the unforeseen or expect the unexpected in a universe of infinite possibilities, we may find ourselves at the mercy of anyone or anything that cannot be programmed, categorized or easily referenced.” – Mulder, X-Files
* * *

“And so it begins.” - Kosh, Babylon 5
* * *

“Always in motion is the future.” – Yoda
* * *

Marty McFly: Hey, Doc! Where you goin' now? Back to the future?
Doc: Nope. Already been there.
- Back to the Future III

"I look to the future because that's where I'm going to spend the rest of my life" - George Burns***

KC Kendricks
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Sunday, April 24, 2011

Happy Easter

To all who celebrate the mystery and joy Easter - He is Risen!

And yes, KC is on her computer instead of being among the faithful at her house of worship. It gets too crowded on Easter morning and someone I haven't seen in a year is always in my favorite seat. :) Besides, I'm cooking for a hungry hoarde due to arrive in a mere three hours and thirty minutes. Who wants to peel the potatoes? Vacuum the living room floor? Glaze the ham? Sweep the walk after last night's storm? Can I get a little help here?

I didn't set out to blog about all that. No, it's my horror-scope again. If it seems strange that I celebrate Easter and also read my horoscope - hey, life is full of contridictions so move along and get over it. Anyway, Mercury is just out of retrograde and I get this for today:

Your intellectual energy is pulsing today, and you should find that it's easier than ever to tackle big issues with ease. In fact, your good ideas come so quickly that you should write them down!

The universe has too much fun at my expense. Excuse me. Did you not just hear me say I have to cook? Who has time for good ideas when one is glazing a ham and making biscuits? Oh well, I can always write them in butter.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Tiwanaku and the Tough Target Story

April 23, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 20 - T

I’m fascinated by ancient lost cities and civilizations. Machu Picchu, Teotihuacan, Easter Island, Angkor Wat, and Tiwanaku.

There’s speculation about just how old Tiwanaku really is. There’s speculation about just who actually built the city. The ruins of the city are near the shores of Lake Titicaca (think El Dorado’s gold) and is generally recognized as important to the emergence of the Inca. And yet what we don’t know is greater than what we do know.

I’ve long wanted to write a story that includes these marvelous ancient places, but I’m unsure of how to proceed. Oh sure, there’s the archeologist, the adventurer, the hapless pilot, but I fear those characters have been around the block a few too many times.

The desire to write something that is likely unmarketable is something most authors will encounter sometime in their career. Our personal interests are not always shared by the masses, and it’s never a good thing to expect our readers to fall into line and love our stories no matter what.

That’s not to say we should allow ourselves to grow stale, writing the same thing over and over and over again. That also is a disservice to our readership. The reader/author relationship is deeply symbiotic, and we need to remain cognizant of that fact.

So perhaps, someday in a story, I will insert a moment like this one:

A lover comes home from a long day at work and flops on the sofa beside the object of his affection. He’ll ask what’s so interesting on the television. The reply, just before they kiss: A special about the ancient city of Tiwanaku.

Mission accomplished.

KC Kendricks
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Friday, April 22, 2011

Shine A Light for the Earth

April 22, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 19 - S

For the Christian world, today is Good Friday. The faithful fast, recreate the walk of the cross, reflect on certain aspects of in their lives that need attention, and pray. It’s a solemn day that prepares the Christian for the celebration of Easter.

Easter – the first Sunday after the first full moon after the spring equinox. That’s why Easter falls on a different Sunday each year. Honest. It’s a bit pagan, isn’t it?

Today is also Earth Day 2011. Founded in 1970 on the premise that everyone, regardless of race, religion, location or income has a moral right to a healthy environment, Earth Day reminds us to take stock of how we live our lives, and what positive changes we may need to adopt.

There’s something about Good Friday and Earth Day falling together that strikes me as very appropriate, although I don’t think we need to give up our life(style) to make the world a better place. I think we need to pick one thing we can do better and consistently do it. From there, if you choose, you can build on your success and step up to the next thing. Lists of ideas abound on the Internet so I won’t bore you with suggestions. Myself, I’ve taken steps that are both financially practical and environmentally friendly.

My home has an upgraded heat pump and compact fluorescent light bulbs throughout. Both my partner and myself us stainless steel reusable water bottles and coffee travel mugs that cost a small fortune, but are very good quality and will last forever. As a country girl, some of the things like composting are way old school stuff. It’s all little things, and admittedly painless, but it’s always a good thing when doing the right thing doesn’t hurt.

Of course, I’ve got to give a plug to ebooks. Think of the trees you save by buying ebooks. After people, trees are the number one thing that can most benefit the environment.

So shine a light for the blue planet, metaphorically speaking. This is our home, the only one we have. We may or may not be all alone out here in the void. If we are indeed alone, we need to take care of us because we’re worth it.


Thursday, April 21, 2011

Rewind, Relax, Renew

April 21, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 18 - R

When I signed up to do the A-Z Blogging Challenge, I’d just completed a very busy writing period. I’d lived through the holidays and completed a few manuscripts while doing so. One of the books had released, and the edits were finished on the other two. Two more stories are partially written at about 10K each. Not a bad six months.

Like every other super productive phase I’ve passed through, I felt the need to step back from writing. The Challenge seemed as though it would be just the ticket, and it has been. As I write this, some weeks before it will actually be posted at Between the Keys, I’ve been working on the daily articles for just a week, and I’m all the way to ‘R’.

I confess I’m almost ready to get back to the writing. A week might not sound like long enough to relax, but down time from writing can’t be measured in definable units like minutes. It’s almost as if I can feel some wheel or dial inside me turn. Or maybe it’s like the tumblers in a lock falling into place. I’ve got one last thing to do before I begin again – walk back to the pond.

When I was growing up, a walk to the pond was a family affair, and most of us came home with wet shoes and paws. You have to cross three different creeks to get there - and cross them again to get home. Being young and nimble, I usually managed to make the leaps. Dad never landed in the water, but being six- foot-two he had the advantage of longer legs than the rest of us.

The pond is a magical place for me, a place of renewal. You might look at the picture and shrug, but you can’t smell the spicy tang of the woods, or hear the smallest twig snap as a deer comes in to drink. The picture doesn’t let you see the flash of silver as one of the little sunnies swims into a too shallow spot and has to flap his way back to deeper water. The pond photographs best in autumn, when I generally go, but this year I want to see it poised on the edge spring, echoing what I feel inside.

Walks to the pond are almost solitary events these days. The dog goes with me, but the woods walkers in the family have been reduced to one – me. Mom can’t do the distance now, which is worrisome in that it reminds me she’s not so young anymore. My partner completed the walk once, by willpower alone, but while chemotherapy saved his life, it left him no longer strong enough to walk such a distance and we both know it. My grandparent’s are gone, and my cousins married girls that practice mall walking. It’s all part of a bigger wheel turning and it’s okay.

Take time for yourself in all your endeavors. Discover what it is that gives you space to breathe and learn to use is as the life tool it is. Don’t shortchange yourself by living with your nose unceasingly pressed to your personal grindstone. It will strip you away, layer-by-layer, and leave you wondering what the heck happened to the days of your life. Without downtime, it’s easy to forget why you love doing what you do.

Rewind, relax, renew. You really are worth it.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Q is for Quetzal

April 20, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 17 - Q

Did I fool you on this one? Blogging for “Q” is not easy. Yeah, yeah, I know. I could have gone with queer (as in the unusual) or Queen (long may the music reign, Freddie), but that was too easy. I just shluffed off three days on promo for Netting Neptune, Open Roads, and Passion’s Victory. I had to come up with something special for Q.

The quetzal is a bird that lives in Central America. I guess it needs the beautiful colored feathers to make up for a less than pretty face. I knew about this bird and its importance to Mayan and Aztec cultures (being a National Geographic devotee), but who knew I’d ever use it as blog fodder? Not me, that’s for sure. But this is one of the more interesting aspects of writing – the pieces of information that become useful.

Curiousity about the obscure is something I hope I never lose. This little blue sphere we live on is full of magic and mystery. Imagine life one-hundred years ago, a time when virtually all of us would never know about the huge cave found in an Asian jungle, or Easter Island, or the Nazca Lines. I’ll never be an expert on any of it, but I’m happily curious about it all.

The more serious writer would probably scoff at the time I waste clicking here and there about the Internet, wasting time on things like looking at pictures of a weird little bird. Heaven only knows what sort of infractions I’ve heaped on my own head by blogging about it, but I don’t really care. I don’t think it’s time wasted.

I don’t think it matters that I’ll never write a story about a quetzal. Just knowing it’s out there, that it’s been out there in some stage of evolution for thousands of years, brings a sense of wonder into my life. And we could all use a little more of that.

KC Kendricks
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Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Passion's Victory by KC Kendricks

April 19, 2011

A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 16 - P

I don't know many authors who don't have at least one book that garnered some pretty awesome reviews. I don't put a lot of stock in reviews, but when one of the most acclaimed authors in the genre rates a story 5 out of 5, I take notice. When it's one of my books that received such a review, I say a very respectful 'thank you'.

We're through the promo patch, and entering the last third of the A to Z Blogging Challenge. So far, it's all good. - KC

2008 CAPA Nominee

When passion is the prize, it’s time to change the rules….

Micah Souther is young, talented, and gay. As the junior owner of the family business, he knows better than to look for love “on the clock.”

Jonas Chadwick is the new guy at the firm. Older, wiser, and a survivor of the school of hard knocks, he’s not in the market for an office romance, even if he knows for certain his young boss is gay.

One kiss is all it takes to send Micah and Jonas on a collision course, and when bodies collide, the friction gets hot...


...My pulse pounded loudly in my ears and my cock rose, anticipating something I knew wasn’t a certainty. He’d come back, but for what? His warm lips found mine, seeking permission. I opened to him, inviting him to plunder at will. He did, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I met him eagerly, hungrily. I wanted this, and more.

Jonas’ strong fingers encircled my wrist and he lifted my arm above my head as his body pinned me, full length, against my front door. He pressed the hard ridge of his erection firmly to mine. I reached for him with my free hand, wanting to feel his length and girth, but he grabbed that wrist, too, and lifted it beside the other. I bucked against him, totally turned on by the aggression I sensed in him.

“Be still,” he growled in my ear. He trailed kisses down my neck, even as his grip tightened. I struggled to break free of the vise grip he had on my wrists.
His pelvis ground against mine. I tilted my head and delved into the heat of his mouth. I moaned. He moaned. I wanted my hands free in the worst way. I needed to touch him, caress the sensitive, silky skin I knew sheathed his penis. I ached to feel his lips on my cock.

I threw my weight forward, desperate to force him to take a step back. It worked and I quickly spun him around and pinned him with my body. He grunted as he came in contact with the door and his lips bowed beneath mine. His strong fingers released my hands, and I reached for him, gathering him to me. His muscled thigh slipped between mine and applied upward pressure on my balls. Instead of worrying about injury I pressed down, reveling in the tingling sensation.

“Jonas,” I murmured against his smiling lips. “Talk to…” His tongue flicked to mine, cutting off my request for a moment of conversation.

Any of my neighbors watching were getting quite a sideshow. I shoved my hand in my pocket, fumbling for my keys. They fell from my shaking fingers to the porch decking. Jonas pushed me back, breaking physical contact. I longed to see his eyes, to get some idea of what he thought, what he felt.

“Bend over and pick them up,” he said cheerfully as he rubbed my nipple.

I stared at him and tried to catch my breath. “Not in front of you, Chadwick. I know all about men like you.”

“Do you?” Something rough and dark in his voice gave me pause. What demon did he battle?

“I know enough.” I pushed him back against the side of the house, not with some little force. “Why did you come back?”

“I don’t know. Maybe to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Bullshit.” I fisted my hands in his shirt and gave him a shake. “We take this inside, make it private, or we’re done here.”

Jonas stared at me for the longest twenty seconds of my life, then he nodded. I released him and he bent over, snagged my keys, and dropped them into my outstretched palm. I unlocked the door and invited the devil into my home for the second time in one day.

“I need a drink. Do you want one, Jonas?” I needed to haul him into my bedroom and have my way with him, that’s what I needed. My insides quivered. I shivered despite the warm evening.

But I knew, to my sorrow, that quickie sex now would be a mistake, and I bet he knew it, too.

“I’ll take a brandy, if you have it.”

“I hope you’ll settle for bourbon.”

I poured us each a generous shot and handed him one. He nodded and tossed it back like a pro. I followed suit, and we set out empties down on the counter in unison. Jonas reached for me again. I lifted my chin and stared him down. His hand dropped to his side.

I wanted him. God, how I wanted him. I ached with it. His gaze met mine before flicking down to the bulge in my pants and back up.

“Looks nice.”

“It’s a sock,” I told him cheerily, in the same tone that he’d used to tell me to bend over.

“Hmm. Well, that’s the risk we run, isn’t it?”

I snorted. “Ya think?” I went to check his package, and he moved away.

“Shy?” I hardly thought shyness to be a problem for him given his examination of my tonsils with his tongue.

“Let’s just say I’m cautious...”

2008 CAPA Nominee


 KC Kendricks

My home on the web- Between the Keys: 
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Monday, April 18, 2011

4 Divas for The Back Stairs

April 18, 2011
**updated October 27, 2019**

Dark Divas Reviews has given The Back Stairs a 4-Diva review. My thanks to Lasha for her glowing words. I blushed when I read them. (Was she saying that about MY story???)

It's my first Dark Diva review, and I couldn't be happier. The reviewer used words like "original and intriguing," "unique," and "sizzle." Now there are words to make an author's heart go pitter-patter! AND THEN she said she may read Beneath Dark Stars!

Yes, I'll be over the rush by morning, sad but true. Real life will intrude like it always does, but tonight - I gloat!

Here's the scoop, but be a doll and go give the review site a click for their counter. It's good politics.

**Please note that the review shows the original cover and links to the original publisher site, which are both out of date. The links in this blog are correct and active.**

I loved the world-building in The Back Stairs as it brought a depth and texture to the plot. Although the novella is set in the present, it had an other-worldly feel and the backstory of Sundown was original and intriguing. Bring in Fallon and Sundown’s unique love story and this book really begins to sizzle. And since I enjoyed this first novel so much, I am looking forward to reading (and reviewing) the second book in this series, Beneath Dark Stars. Sundown and Fallon are quickly becoming my favorite human-shapeshifter pairing.
Rated 4 Delightful Divas by Lasha!

KC Kendricks

Open Roads by KC Kendricks

April 18, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 15 - O

Open Roads is one of those special stories. Every author has a few. The ones that just flow onto the
page without any apparent effort, writing itself. Open Roads is the kind of story a writer looks
back at and says, "Wow. I wrote that...."

Open Roads
contemporary gay romance

Open Roads is available at AmazoniTunesBarnes & NobleKobo, and other online booksellers.


Tyler Phillips enjoys his small-town life. He’ll never get rich working the family business, but he knows there’s more to a man than the size of his bank account. Easing into mid-life, Tyler’s restless for something he can’t find in the little borough of Easton – male companionship.

Noel Springs got caught up in the economic downturn. His job gone, and retirement a lot of years in the future, Noel decides to take a long drive and see some of the country before dedicating himself to finding new employment. The open road is just what he needs right now.

When his car overheats outside the little town of Easton, Noel discovers the local mechanic is hotter than his radiator, and just as eager to blow off some steam.

INTRO: (from Tyler's point of view)

“Nice car. How far back did the trouble start?”

He leaned inside and pulled the release lever. Little lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes as he smiled. “About forty-one years.”

I grinned at him, already liking his sense of humor as I lifted the hood. A wave of steam engulfed us. I hastily closed my eyes and stepped back to keep the antifreeze-laden vapor from leaving a film on my contact lenses. “Come inside. We’ll let that cool down so I can take a look at her.”

“You’re going to tell me it’s the radiator, aren’t you?” His clear tenor held just a trace of the west as he followed me into what passed as a reception area and office combined. I opened the soft drink case.

“What would you like, on the house? And don’t panic yet.” Based on the way the steam smelled, I suspected his radiator would be fine, but what was inside it was not.

“Too late. I panicked about five miles ago when the temperature gauge shot up.
You can’t imagine how relieved I was to see your sign. I’ll take coffee, if you have it.”

I popped the cap and handed him a cola. “Sorry. It’s a little late in the day for any to be left in the pot.” I grinned at him. “And I hear that a lot about my strategically placed sign out there on the Interstate.”

His grey gaze held my hazel one captive as I held out my hand to him. “Tyler Phillips, owner-operator.”

Strong fingers closed around mine, holding my hand a moment too long for politeness. “Noel Springs, stranded motorist.”


Our bodies brushed, hip against hip, as I leaned past him. I heard the sharp intake of breath as he jumped, and felt his heat when he seized the moment and pressed the long length of his muscled thigh to mine. My mouth went dry, but I didn’t need to speak.

Hidden from public view by our bodies and the car, Noel’s hand stroked across my ribs and came to a stop as his strong fingers gripped my waist. I had my hands full, carefully securing the pie for the ride home. His pelvis bumped my ass, a quick thrust that almost knocked my head against the doorframe. My cock hardened in a rush, straining within its denim prison.

“That’s what you get for bending over in front of me, you little tease.”

I wiggled my butt, and he smacked it, hard. I straightened and turned around, grinning at him.

I looked down. He looked down. Noel returned my grin. His grey eyes gleamed in the sunlight as his pink tongue licked his full, rosy lips.

“Seven-and-a-half, cut.”

"Eight. Cut"

Noel narrowed his eyes. “Top or bottom?”

I grasped his hips, not caring if the whole town buzzed it up on the gossip chain by sundown. “You’re too eager.”

He glanced down at my bulging zipper a second time. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“You know, Noel, I don’t want to get all stupid with you. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of your misfortune on the highway.”

“I know, Tyler. And I don’t want you to think I ever planned to abuse your hospitality. This is just one night. Maybe a little friendly companionship, provided…”

He moved to kiss me, and I jerked away. He looked surprised.

“Sorry, Noel.” Kissing on Main Street might be a bit too much for the neighbors whose good will supported my standard of living. “I keep my private life low profile.”

“Of course. I’m out, and I guess I thought you were, too.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m in sort of a limbo. I don’t care if people know, but this is a small town. I don’t flaunt it in public, but in truth, around here, neither do straight lovers.”

“Got it. When in Rome.” He backed away, his expression unreadable as he climbed into the car.

Maybe I’d tripped some trigger of his, or not, but I’d figure it out when we got to my place. Insides quivering with anticipation, I headed out of town.

Noel remained silent for the remainder of the drive to my home, at least until
I turned onto the long gravel lane that led to the two-story frame farmhouse. He shifted in his seat and fixed that clear grey gaze on me in an incredulous stare.

“Excuse me for asking, but what the hell is a good-looking stud like you doing out here in bum-fuck middle America, working as a grease monkey, and living on a farm, for God’s sake!”

The answer that filled my being came out of the still darkness of countless solitary nights.

Waiting for you.


Open Roads is available at AmazoniTunesBarnes & NobleKobo and other online booksellers.

KC Kendricks
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Sunday, April 17, 2011

Are we having fun yet?

April 17, 2010

So it rained yesterday.

And rained. And rained some more.

I don't think I'm leaving home anytime soon.

Thank God the Internet connection has been restored.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Netting Neptune by KC Kendricks

April 16, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 14 - N

When I planned out the A to Z month, I had a good idea of how to pace myself. I wanted to strike a balance between personal stuff, fun stuff, and promo stuff. We've hit the middle stretch, which happens to be the promo stretch. So here's a bit about Netting Neptune, the first of story in the At the Southern Cross series.

Netting Neptune
Contemporary gay romance
available at Amazon and other online book sellers

Theron Bowman is in the throes of a mid-life crisis. At forty, he needs to make some serious decisions about his future. He splurges on a two-week vacation in the Caribbean, and like everything else in his life, things go horribly awry and he ends up working to pay for his room.

Forced by his father to break ties with his family, Colby Denton came to rest on St. Lucia, and opened an exclusive resort. To celebrate his tenth year on the island, and his birthday, Colby arranges for a series of festive beachside parties. When a sexy sea god swims out of the ocean in front of him, Colby has a brand new plan – netting Neptune.


I nibbled Theron’s earlobe, aware a few of my staff surreptitiously watched our dance. I never hid the fact I was gay from them, but they’d never seen me openly courting anyone before. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the simple pleasure of swaying to the music with him.

As the music ended, soft applause rippled through the shadows. I pulled back and looked at him. “Ready to turn in for the night?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Yes. I’m ready, but there’s something… Look, Colby, let’s not get all caught up in tonight, okay? I’m going home as soon as I can.”

I understood him all too well, but from the moment he’d risen from the sea, I’d been under his spell. It would be hard to let him go in the morning, but it was clear he’d already made that choice. I wondered, for a brief moment, about the man who’d betrayed him. Was there still involvement there? The heart was a strange ruler, forgiving what on the surface seemed unforgivable. It wasn’t something I could ask and expect to share his passion tonight. His past was his own, and I wouldn’t be the one to reopen old wounds.

“I hope you won’t be upset when you get to my suite. I ordered a few things in case you said yes.”

“It’s okay. I suspected you would. Any man who lives on a tropical island has to be a bit of a romantic.”

I kept my arm around his waist and propelled him off the dance floor. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Surf, sand, starlight.”

“I didn’t say it was.” Theron pulled me off the path and into a dark shadow.
His fingers teased the wisps of hair on my collar as his arms snaked around my neck. I forgot how to breathe as his dark eyes watched me. The blood pooled in my groin; my cock lengthened. I ran my hands up his sides, feeling every ridge of his ribcage. He held his back stiffly, like he hadn’t felt a connection to anyone in a while. My knees shook when he wet his lips.

I’d tried not to obsess over why he’d not kissed me earlier, but it had bothered me off and on all day. We’d come to the moment where he would, and I reached down for every ounce of self-control I had to remain still and let him kiss me, his way. Did he have any clue what he did to me?

I had to know if his dick was as hard as mine. Theron’s eyes lit with anticipation as I cupped his ass cheeks and ground my pelvis to his. He was hard, the ridge of his cock pushing the length of his zipper.

I managed to croak a few words. “I had to know.”

He ran his thumb over my lower lip. If he didn’t kiss me soon, I’d faint from lack of oxygen.

“And now that you do, what happens?”

“You tell me, Theron. I don’t want to push you.”

“You’re not.” He cupped the back of my head and brushed his lips to mine, a whisper-soft touch that snapped through me, shattering my good intentions along with my control.

I backed him to the side of the restaurant where the shadows were deepest and kissed him, hard. His tongue licked into mine, eager and willing. Wanting. I tasted the faint trace of lemon from his drink as I nibbled the corner of his mouth. Theron scraped his teeth over my lower lip and heat coiled in my belly, like some spring awaiting release.

His strong arms held me as I massaged his ass. My balls drew up as he groaned and thrust his tongue into my mouth. Deep inside, a phantom memory ached for a new touch, his touch, and from that phantom came images of him pressing me down beneath him on clean, crisp sheets.

Book One of the Southern Cross series

Also available:

Book Two of the Southern Cross series
Available at Amazon and other online booksellers.

Book Three of the Southern Cross series
Available at Amazon and other online booksellers.

KC Kendricks
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Friday, April 15, 2011

Monet Musings

April 15, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 13- M

I’ll be the first person to admit I don’t have a good eye for art. My niece and I went to the Corcoran Gallery in the District of Columbia this past summer, and most of the art on display left me cold. I had no true understanding or appreciation of the more modern pieces. But show me a Monet and I can stare at it for an hour.

Long ago and far away, in my high school days, I had an art teacher that expected her students to create a painting in oils on canvas. Yep. It was a scary concept for a room full of sixteen year old kids in a small town. I had to choose one of six paintings and copy it. I was drawn to the Monet.

Seriously. Now is that a get out of town moment, or not? Copy a Monet, for heaven’s sake! What was that teacher thinking?

To my mother’s credit, she forked over the cash for a small paint kit and off to class I went. She may still have the painting I did all those years ago. She keeps things that make me cringe. It’s her job as a mother. Yet every once in a while I think it might be fun to get a canvas and paint something. I doubt that the intervening years have magically given me artistic talent, but a splash of my own colors on the wall might be great fun.

I can’t say as I remember any masterpieces being generated out of that class. What I do remember is my art teacher’s patient and glowing encouragements of everyone in the room. It took a little while, but I finally got it. Impressionist painting is about freedom of interpretation. It’s about how you perceive the nuances of color and form. Right and wrong had no place, and everyone who gave it an honest try got an 'A'.

In some regards, an author’s voice is like the brush of an impressionist artist. There is no right or wrong to the stories we write. While the painter uses oils to create cohesive colors and patterns to create a picture, we pull emotions and thoughts out of the air around us to bring our creations to life. The words are filtered by our experiences and perceptions and become unique to us, a painting of words. And like those artists of old, we frequently suffer the slings and arrows of the jealousy of those who cannot copy what we do, and in that jealousy seek to take away our freedom. I’m aware, and wary, of them.

And while those intervening years haven’t given me painterly talents, what they have given me is knowledge of self, the ability to love, and an understanding that the more different people are, the more alike we become. We’re all little dots of color on a universal canvas and together we create a complete picture, one even more beautiful than a Monet.

KC Kendricks
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Thursday, April 14, 2011

Lessons From the Cat

April 14, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 12 - L

When I was very young, we didn’t have cats, and the reason we didn’t was because my grandfather had hounds. Hunting hounds, not pets. No small animal was safe running loose around the old homestead. It wasn’t until my parents had saved enough to buy their first house that I had a cat. And my first cat was a Siamese named Mugsy.

We came by Mugsy as a favor to our next-door neighbor. They built a new house along a busy highway and feared for Mugsy’s life. I’m not sure why keeping him inside wasn’t an option, but 1967 was a long time ago and it hardly matters now. The neighbors asked my mother if we’d take him since the neighborhood was his home and he knew us. Mom said yes.

Mugsy adjusted to eating his meals and sleeping at our home. Whether or not he still haunted his old yard, I don’t remember. The yards backed up to each other so he probably did. What I do remember is Mugsy was quite the feline pugilist – or so he fancied himself.

Before he came to live with us, Mugsy was oblivious to the presence of another Siamese who lived across the road - Cocoa. We know this from Cocoa’s owner who never saw Mugsy before he came to live with us. Apparently our yard was the neutral zone, much like the one between the Federation and the Romulans.

Younger, and apparently stronger and smarter, Cocoa never came calling. He simply sat in his driveway and taunted Mugsy. By doing nothing.

Okay, he was breathing, but we have to give him a pass on that.

Mugsy hated Cocoa just on general principle… who the hell knows why. It was a cat thing. The moment Mugsy saw Cocoa, hot cat rage seized him and across the road he’d sprint, tail in the air. Cocoa would merely sit there and wait until Mugsy tackled him, and then HE WOULD KICK MUGSY’S CHOCOLATE BROWN ASS.

It was pathetic in a gotta-take-the-idiot-for-stitches-again sort of way. My dad was not pleased and now that I’m older I understand why. Vets are expensive.

We didn’t have Mugsy too many years. He was hit by a car on his way to do battle and we had to tell his original owners he died at home in the very manner they’d feared.

I don’t remember if I cried or not, being maybe ten, but I suspect I did. My stoic father didn’t protest when my mother declared we were getting a Siamese kitten at the earliest opportunity. I suppose that blunted the grief. I remember KiKi with love and fondness. He lived to the ripe old age of seventeen.

Mugsy never really joined our household. I think to him his real family deserted him and he never got over it. We cared for him, fed him, housed him and took him to the vet, but we were not his people.

And while I don’t remember Mugsy with any great affection, he taught a young girl a valuable lesson – never start a fight you can’t win.

KC Kendricks
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Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Karma to Kings

April 13, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 11 - K

When I signed up to do the Blogging from A-Z thing this month, I never imagined that ‘K’ would be the letter I’d stumble over. Well, here I am with nothing witty or profound to say about K. Since that is the case, I’ll give you a warning right here and now. You’re about to be subjected to a mish-mash of words and things that somehow, and occasionally, relate to K. Run now, or forever hold your opinion.

K – Karma. Let’s all remember karma and be NICE to one another, dammit!

K – Kelly. The dog my parents owned when my dad died.

K – Kiss. A romance writer’s secret weapon.

K – KISS. One of the best live shows I ever plunked down thirty bucks for. Bad grammar, yes.

K – K-cups. We got a k-cup coffee brewer in December and we love it. Every cup is fresh. We got the Cuisinart with the little basket so we can use our regular ground coffee as well as the little k-cups. So far we’ve tried about six different brands and we like Tully’s Kona and Green Mountain Dark Magic the best.

K – Kona. It’s a bad year for Kona lovers. The weather on the Big Island has led to a reduced crop. I’m hoarding the twelve Kona k-cups I have left for special mornings.

K – Kahlua. The smaller the drinking establishment you’re visiting, the more important it is to ask if the “cream” they are mixing with your Kahlua has passed its expiration date.

K – Klingon. Either you’re a Trekker or you’re not.

K – Kinks. Thank you, Ray Davies, for introducing me to transvestites. Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls, it’s a mixed up, muddled up shook up world except for Lola. Lo-lo-lolo-Lola.

K – King Leonidas. I confess. I saw the movie ‘300’ on the big screen. Why you ask? I hate to admit this, being a writer and all, but there are times a picture is worth a thousand words. Do you see that man’s thighs?

That’s it for the letter K. I hope to have more cohesive thoughts on L tomorrow. Thanks for reading this far, and I hope you’re checking out some of the other A-Z bloggers. We aim to entertain.

KC Kendricks
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Tuesday, April 12, 2011

J is for JUNK

April 12, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 10 - J

Junk in the attic: Christmas decorations and wrap, artificial Christmas tree in the box, assorted glassware and boxed up knick-knacks, old tax returns, old picture frames, old silk flowers, an old steamer chest, old wicker baskets, and only God knows what else.

Junk in the basement: canning jars, two old coffee makers, paint in colors that will never grace my walls again, computer packaging and boxes, twelve coolers in whatever size you can imagine (we only use one of them), old kitchen canisters, old candles, bags of sawdust for on an icy driveway, a box fan, a desk fan, a ripped raincoat, and I don’t want to even know what Himself has in his workshop. I don’t go in there.

Junk in the shed: a broken shovel; a non-operational roto-tiller, garden pond supplies for a pond we no longer have, two non-functional weed-whackers, three non-operational chainsaws Himself swears he’s using for spare parts, an old window air conditioner in case the central air goes out, birdhouses, decorative flags, a sled, one large dog crate, on small dog/cat carrier, a doll’s bed, four bicycles (we only ride two), two bicycle racks (we just load the bikes into the bed of the Silverado), a grass seed spreader, a garden canopy, a tent, window screens, buckets, old flower pots, a box of ceramic tile, low-voltage lighting we took out when we got solar lights, and only God knows what else.

How did we get so much JUNK?

Call the Pickers. I’m ready to sell!

KC Kendricks
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Monday, April 11, 2011

Individual Pursuit

April 11, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 9 - I

Of all things I’ve set my hands to, writing is the most solitary, the most individual pursuit I know. Yes, it falls short of the individual existence, that thing of spirit and skin we alone can experience, but our singular being is all that surpasses the pursuit of writing. Writing is pulling pure thought from the essence of self and committing it to the page.

I like to think writing is for introverts, perhaps because I am one. Years ago, an employer gave everyone in the company ye olde Myers-Briggs test, and I’m so far into being an ISTJ, the HR idiot thought I fudged some of my answers. I moved on from that company. Like Popeye, ‘I yam who I yam’.

The long hours spent staring at a blank computer screen isn’t for everyone. And hitting the delete key and dumping a thousand words one just wrangled into a coherent existence isn’t for the faint of heart. Writing is not easy. Writing can be lonely. Writing will rip dreams and secrets out of you and splash them across the page for all to see. Fail to recognize what writing does to you, and you bleed for all to see.

And yet, every day, I never hesitate to place my fingers on the keys and type. Some nights it’s a struggle to pull five hundred words out of the air. Some nights my fingers can’t move fast enough. I never know until I begin what sort of evening it will be. I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do.

There is much of the power of creation to writing. A single pure thought takes on life and light and becomes real. I coax the characters alive to share my mind and my days until their stories are told and then brutally cast them aside to embrace others. But they never completely leave because they are part of me. Scary, isn’t it?

And it’s wonderful. Have I regressed to my childhood with my imaginary friends? No. I share them with you, the reader, and allow you to see into myself – if you know where to look.

I practice my individual pursuit with great passion, and by doing so find that I am never lonely, and never truly alone.


PS. The picture is of a mouse pad I got at a craft fair. The fellow has them for a variety of occupations and sports. I wish I still had his business card because his creations are unique and fun. If he's at the Mountain Heritage Festival in June, I'll get a new card and share his url with you.

Saturday, April 9, 2011


April 9, 2011
A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 8 - H

I come from a long line of gardeners, so it's hardly a surprise I enjoy getting down in the dirt to plant something green. I have clear memories of my great-grandmother, clothed in traditional “plain” dress and bonnet, working in her garden. Mary’s garden was a mix of vegetables and flowers, as one would expect from someone born in 1889 and raised in those simpler days.

I’ll tell you another time how amazing I think it is to have known someone born in the 1880s. I was around eleven when she died, and too young to fully understand how difficult her life had been, and how she triumphed over two world wars, a great depression, the death of young children and the discriminations a woman of her time endured.

Up until about two or three years before her death, every Saturday morning, my great-grandmother loaded up a truck with whatever she was taking to “city” market to sell. She engaged more in trade with other sellers than straight sales, but that was the way it worked. It was from market trading, a century or so ago, somewhere around 1910 when she first 'went to housekeeping,' she acquired the first hemerocallis fulva – the common orange daylily.

She planted her traded clump of daylily down by the creek, and there it thrived for almost a hundred years until very recently when a spring flood eroded the bank out from under the plants. I was sad to see this link to my great-grandmother break, but I have plenty of the old daylily planted around my yard. Everyone in the family has it in their yard. But you know what? A few young clumps are re-establishing themselves along the creek, downstream.

I will “rescue” them one dark night when the park rangers are sleeping and plant them back where they belong, along the stretch of the creek where Mary's great-great-great grandson plays. And I will tell him, when he is older, the importance of the orange daylily in his family lore.

Resilient in the face of what the universe throws at it, the daylily thrives. Flood or drought, it manages to flourish and prosper. Its roots spread beneath the surface, unseen, storing what it needs for difficult times. Its leaves shape themselves to catch the morning dew and channel the precious drops down to the roots. It displays it’s finest blooms to the world, one day at a time.

And that’s a life lesson we can all receive from the daylily, my favorite perennial.


Friday, April 8, 2011

Give Me One Night by KC Kendricks

April 8, 2011

A to Z Blogging Challenge
Day 7 - G

Woo-hoo! The first week of the A to Z Blogging Challenge is 'in the can'. I can say it's all good. As in - it's a darn good thing I organized, organized, organized, and had a game plan worked out. Without it, my brain would be mush. Seriously.

Pacing is important, so for the letter G, I've given myself a break. Not only am I doing a promo, I'm posting it just a tad early since tomorrow is Friday. So without further ado, here's a promo from an early best-seller, Give Me One Night

One night can change a life....

Give Me One Night is now available at 
AmazoniTunes/AppleBarnes and NobleKobo, and other online booksellers. 

When passion changes the rules, one more night can alter the future...

Brody O’Connor joins the revelry of the yearly pub crawl, hunting a like-minded man for a night of fun and frolic with no strings attached. When a mystery man in an emerald green shirt engages Brody’s interest, it doesn’t take long for the hunter to become the prey.

Well-matched with his mystery man, Brody regrets his "no strings" approach to a night of shared passion that leaves him hungry for more. The morning after, Evan is gone, as agreed. Brody knows it was a mistake to let him go, and vows to find him.

Evan also never expected to meet someone like Brody. Now Brody wants to change the rules, and Evan decides he’ll give Brody one more night to convince him to stay...

EXCERPT: (from Brody's point of view)

My quarry stood at the bar, sipping what appeared to be a soda. I stepped into the whirling lights, planted my feet, squared my shoulders, put my hands on my hips, and waited for him to spot me. It didn’t take long.

He looked me up and down, a slow, lazy appraisal that focused my attention on his face. Then he smiled and lowered his eyelids with a slight nod of his head.

In that instant I knew something about him there are no flowery or romantic words for – only gut instinct. He wanted me to fuck him.

My body responded to the knowledge. Arousal snapped through me, sending shivers down my spine. My nipples, sensitive as any girl’s, tingled to the point that the fabric of my sweater rubbing against them became deliciously painful. My cock swelled to its full seven and three quarter inch glory in a single pounding heartbeat.

I’d fuck him until he was limp as a rag doll in less time than that if I could get my hands on him.

His chin lifted, the knowledge of the game joined in his eyes. I gestured for him to join me on the dance floor. He smiled and weaved his way through the crowd in my direction. A dancer whirled between us and I bolted for the door, no doubt in my mind he’d follow.

I made it to my car in time to see him step out the door, pause, and look around. He handed something to the bouncer cum doorman. His keys?
He allowed others to drive his Jaguar? The man held stunning, hidden possibilities.

Sure enough, the burly attendant loped across the street and out of my line of sight. Within a minute, the Jag whirled into view and Blue Eyes reclaimed his ride. When he pulled out into the center lane, I steered my car in behind him.

The next stop, according to the pub crawl itinerary, was Rumours, and that was good for me. Blue Eyes turned left onto Potomac Street and his turn signal stayed on. I made a sharp left into the alley and the Rumours private rear parking lot.

Rumours was part of my regular circuit. I breezed through the kitchen door like I owned the place, which I did. I held a very modest, and quiet, ten percent of the business and the real estate.

Several of the wait staff yelled friendly profanities at me – and made a few offers. I smiled and waved as I hustled my way through, exiting the kitchen beside the bar. A buddy had the barstool on the end and I shooed him off it with the promise of imminent entertainment.

Thank heavens the chair was right in front of an air vent and a breeze blew from it to cool the mob of revelers. I was sweaty, sticky, and not because the night was at all warm. The bartender handed me a glass of ice water with a lime twist and I gulped down a few swallows.

No more alcohol for me until I got Blue Eyes home.

And speaking of, there he was, just on the other side of the dance floor, smiling at me, one eyebrow cocked up and looking amused. He gestured to me to join him with the same palm up wave of the arm I’d used at Tully’s.

I shook my head, lifting my glass to indicate I was thirsty. He clasped his hands over his chest and feigned heartbreak.


The dancer behind him was rubbing his butt, without any protest from Blue Eyes, so how crushed could he be? I finished my water and walked towards him, my gaze never leaving his. He stepped into the throng of dancers, meeting me halfway.

We moved easily to the music, our movements mirroring each other. I’d worry about the stupid grin on my face, but his expression matched mine. Our hips swayed closer. Our hands brushed. Blue Eyes turned, shaking his very well-shaped ass at me. I laughed in his ear, pulling him back against me. I was so achingly hard that my resolve to taunt him, to wear him down to a begging blob of gel, almost cracked. He grinned over his shoulder when I licked the rim of his ear.

“Are you going to tell me your name?”

I flashed my pearly whites at him. “Just before you come for the first time.”

“Cocky bastard, aren’t you?”

“You’ll have to wait a while to find that out.”


Give Me One Night is now available at 
AmazoniTunes/AppleBarnes and NobleKobo, and other online booksellers. 

KC Kendricks
My home on the web- Between the Keys:
My country life at Holly Tree Manor