Sunday, February 26, 2012

Can You Promote Your Book Too Much?

February 26, 2012

Today I welcome author Brenda Williamson to Between the Keys. I met Brenda a few years back and she's quite a lady. Warm, friendly, outgoing, talented and tough, Brenda juggles a full schedule that includes an adult son, a writing career, a business, a charming southern estate, and a four-year old nephew!

So when does she have time to write and promote? Keep reading! - KC

Can You Promote Your Book Too Much?

Apparently you can. At least when it comes to some readers. I happened upon a post thread on an obscure forum where a disscussion took place about spam. We all know what that is -- unwanted, annoying email. As I scanned the page, one word captured my attention- WRITER.

I found myself reading more of the thread and discovered there are readers that don't appreciate constant updates from writers, and they go as far as to say the spam from some writer's has totally turned them off from wanting to read those writer's books.

Key points they were against:

     1. Getting numerous emails from an author just because they are in the author's address book. So authors, if you are guilty of sending emails to every person you've ever had contact with, you may be losing readers.

      2. Signed up to Newsletters without permission.
          Authors, make sure you don't add anyone's email address to your newsletter list that hasn't asked. Double opt-in is the best way to go with through email services. Otherwise, if you're doing the adding, be sure to send them an email, reminding them why they are being signed up, ie contest entry, book giveaway, etc.

      3. Repeated posts on the same topic.
          In other words, don't keep posting the same excerpts and the same news on the same group more than once a week, or every week for months. Readers find that boring, annoying and time comsuming.

And now for a little promoting of my book!

A Wicked Wolf

ISBN: 9781603105590

Available from Red Sage Publishing


Real Estate agent Randi Brown works the rich crowd, selling high-priced homes. With her parents dead it’s up to her to financially support two teenage siblings and she wants to spread her wings by negotiating a billion dollar land deal. Only the landowner, a business mogul no one has seen in years isn’t interested in selling his mountain to a development corporation, and Randi sets out to change his mind any way possible, even if that means sleeping with the reclusive billionaire.

After two years, since his wife’s brutal murder, Nicholas "Nick" Wolfe prefers to mourn her than get involved in business. So he lives cut off from society on Wolfe Mountain. Through his attorney, he’s offered billions, but no one knows to what extent the value of the land is more than the inhabitants—the Lycans, human wolf-like animal shifters.

When Randi shows up on the mountain one rainy night, Nick tires to fight the desires of the wolf in him to take a mate. Unfortunately, nature has made it impossible to resist the animalistic urges strengthened by the influence of a full moon and the power of lust in this woman’s eyes. Can love know no bounds?

Randi has no idea of where this torrid affair can lead until she learns the gruesome details of a woman’s murder by a creature not quite human. Then she becomes the next target and she discovers how falling in love can lead to a fatal attack from a Lycan.


For minutes, he lavished her with kisses. His mouth moved firmer against hers, and his body rubbed hers faster, more insistently. When he stopped, she dared to open her eyes.

He was looking up. She did too.

From the open crossbeams, dried herbs dangled from tied silk ribbons. He let go of her wrist and reached up. She should have lowered her arm, but to move meant to chance breaking the spell.

She watched him tug one ribbon, untying a cluster that fell to the floor. The clean scent of lavender burst from the bouquet. She stared at the other bundles. Had he collected them? They couldn’t be for cooking since his refrigerator was bare.

When J.R. looped and tied the ribbon around her wrist, he jerked her thoughts from the idyllic illusion of everything going smoothly in her business acquisition and her sexual encounter.

“What are you doing?” Her words rattled free.

With the yellow silk strip snug, he drew her arm to the side and fastened the opposite end to the cabinet door knob. As much as she enjoyed aggressively passionate sex in all positions, she’d never been into real bondage.

“I’m not sure I like being restrained.” She tipped her head back and watched him retrieve another ribbon.

“You will.” He tied a blue strip of silk to her free wrist and fastened it to another cabinet knob.

Now was the time to protest and fight the binds, or surrender. He leaned against her, sniffing at her neck, then licking it. She felt its throbbing vein pulsing rapidly against the stimulation. He had more control than she normally allowed a guy. He caressed her jaw with the back of his hand. Did she want him to stop? What would she give up?

His stare into her eyes suggested she’d miss out the hottest sex of her life. The smoldering lust was more than she could resist. There was no turning back—no buckling under to convention. His hypnotizing brown eyes had command over her, and she waited, a captive audience.

His gaze didn’t leave hers as he raised her shirt. She breathed harder, feeling the light touch of his hands running up her sides and over her breasts. He fingered her nipples, rolling them around with his thumbs. They stiffened and ached from the repeated pawing. Then he stopped and stroked her sides. Intense warmth spread, prickling her skin. Goosebumps dotted her arms and shoulders.

His quiet intensity fascinated her. With one hand controlling her Tee shirt, his other took a more serious possession of her left breast. He turned his hand over and brushed his knuckles against the tip. Then grasping it between a finger and his thumb, he pinched it. The fiery sting zinged her to her core.

A moan escaped her.

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back.

“More,” she begged, loving the way the pleasurable pain jarred her nerves.

And yet he didn’t give her what she wanted. Instead, he took his hands away, and the soft cotton of the shirt she wore slid down over her inflamed nipples.

He raised his arm and his fingers neared her face. She sensed regret in his light touch to her jaw. Turning her cheek to his palm, she pleaded with him to continue. “Don’t stop.”

He looked at her strangely, as if what she asked was unusual and daring. His eyes were flickering with other colors, reflections from somewhere in the room kept her spellbound. There she hung, bound to the cabinet doors, and all she wanted to think about was could he make her want him more?

His other hand took a place on the opposite side of her neck. He petted lightly over her pulse, beating beneath the skin. The slow strokes lulled her senses, calming her all over. She closed her eyes, enjoying the caress that moved into a massage of her shoulders. It felt good, relaxing. And then he grabbed the Tee shirt's frayed collar and ripped it down the front, jerking her whole body forward.

Shocked out of her false tranquility, her lashes flew up as she gasped. Mild alarm made her tense as she bounced against the counter from J.R.’s jerking to tear the shirt completely open. Her heart rate quickened. She breathed heavier, stunned by his sudden aggression. A dark edginess fringed his expression as he looked hungrily at her breasts.

She glanced down at her nipples, ruby spiked points jutting in eagerness. J.R.’s long fingers folded around her swollen flesh. He lifted one breast higher then the other as if he weighed each to be sure he had the heavier, more deserving one.

He bent down and licked her taut nipple. She watched his tongue swish and cool the burning flesh. In a frenzy of ecstatic joy, she rolled her head from side to side against the cabinet with whispered moans for more. She arched, shoving her chest toward him. His bathing licks and suckling lips were the sweetest kind of torture. The coarseness of his tongue abraded her flesh, heating every sensitive nerve in her. The cut of his teeth when he nipped the tender tip of her breast came close to making her scream. His withdrawal left her unharmed. Then he did it all again. His mouth swung away sooner than she expected, faster than she wanted, and a frustrated whine slipped out of her. She wanted the moment to last forever.

His kisses journeyed along her collarbone and swept up the side of her neck. “You taste good.” His words whispered around her ear. “I want to devour every inch of you.”

“Yes.” She panted, encouraging him by repeating her total agreement. “Yes, every inch.”

He cupped her jaw and turned her head. His lips crept along. She twisted to catch his kiss on her mouth. Oddly, he avoided the place she desired to feel his tantalizing breath.

His hands left her body without warning. He pulled a red handkerchief from his back pocket and spun it several times folding it to a strip. She drew back as he lifted it to her eyes.

“Is that for me?” she asked, not sure how far she wanted to let him dominate her.

A wicked grin was his only answer.

This wasn’t a position she should be in with a stranger and she debated telling him. No, she didn’t want to play this game. The words stayed on the tip of her tongue as he leaned against her to tie the blindfold around her head. His hard body pressed hers, and she lost focus on her concerns. Her breasts flattened against him. She whimpered. Desire to have mind-blowing sex overpowered reason.

Then the blindfold went on. She wasn’t sure how to handle the unsettling mix of apprehension and anticipation, but she felt another burst of fear. He was a stranger and she was giving him total control.

Brenda Williamson
~ Seductive in Any Era ~

Sunday, February 19, 2012

New Countertops in the Twilight Zone

February 19, 2012

Do you remember the old Golden Earring song, “Twilight Zone?” Yeah, yeah, I’m that old and twelve thousand other authors just scurried off to write a story based on the lyrics, but I digress. There’s one line in the song that certainly applies to my life at the moment.

“Help, I’m stepping into the twilight zone…”

Tomorrow, if all goes well, new countertops will be installed in my kitchen. I’ve looked at the old ones for thirty years and I’m due. No, no, I’m not THAT old. I got a head start on home ownership while in my early twenties when my grandparents gifted me with three acres of ground, but I digress again.

Once I’d allowed myself to be convinced I deserved to spend that kind of money on a whim, the project moved forward rather quickly. My partner knows I’m frugal to a fault and that if he really wanted to pry several thousand dollars out of my accounts, he’d have to bleed, too. He handed me a check (that I know had to give him a bit of a twinge) and off we went to look at options. Formica, quartz, marble, soapstone, concrete, granite, the stuff with the ground glass in it, real butcher block, stainless steel. We settled on granite.

“Help, I’m stepping into the twilight zone…”

If you ever decide to get new countertops there are a few words you should avoid - “We’ll do the demo ourselves.”

To save about five hundred dollars, we decided to rip out and dispose of the old countertops ourselves. And so the work did commence. The first to go was small space of counter my beloved uses as his desk space. It wasn’t too difficult but wait…. His computer is on the floor in a corner of the living room. He’s using my computer to check his email. He’s touching MY computer. He’s picking up things on MY desk and asking me what the hell they are. Such is the magnitude of my mistake - we’ll do the demo ourselves.

So here we are on Sunday morning and the cooktop is on the potting bench - outside. The oven is on a piece of ply board on the dining room table. There is no kitchen sink. The dishwasher is sitting on plastic in the dining room. Who set the bomb off in my house?

And the coffee brewer? The Cuisinart is in the bathroom. And if you think about that for just a moment, you’ll understand the real twilight zone moment.

I’ll leave you with a little commentary from my cat. Yesterday, he decided to check out the action for himself and found his favorite observation spot had gone missing. He’s a famous cover model, you know, having posed for the cover of A Cat Named Hercules.

This morning he’s in the bathroom, glaring at the coffee maker. I understand. I want my home back in order, too.

“The sun’ll come up…tomorrow….”

KC Kendricks
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mailing list at:

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Eye of the Beholder

February 12, 2012
Latest release! 

Contemporary gay romance

Eye of the Beholder is now available at
AmazonBarnes and NobleiTunes/AppleKobo
and other online booksellers

Some neighbors share more than others...

Andy Madison is city born and bred. Filling in for a friend at a coffee shop, Andy meets Ben Hardin and sparks fly. They spend a long, lazy Sunday afternoon together to get to know each other, and when they decide to let nature take its course, they go to Ben’s cozy apartment.

Ben’s taking his time becoming acclimated to his new life in the big city. He’s got a great job he loves, he’s making new friends, and his starter apartment has the most incredible views a young man could dream of. Ben’s discovered there’s more to admire than the arts, music and architecture. All he has to do is look out his window and across the narrow alley.

Andy thinks he’s seen it all living in the Big Apple, but what he spies through Ben’s window is something that can only be enjoyed by the eye of the beholder...


I'd chosen to sleep on the side of the bed beside the one and only window in the apartment. It might have made a different decision if the window faced east, but it didn't. I peered out through the streaky glass at the glow of the city lights and wondered if I'd someday make enough money to have a real view. The surprising, and scary, answer to that musing was I actually might. My employer recognized my talent.

I was just about to tuck my toes under the sheet when for no real reason a movement on the other side of the narrow alley drew my attention. I yawned as the lights in the apartment across the way and down a story went out. The lower half of the window rose about six to eight inches and a pair of male hands set a block to keep it from falling closed. The hands, now unseen, pushed the sheer curtains apart to allow what little breeze stirred this night entrance to his room. Naked, he flopped down on his bed, his back arched as he stretched his arms over his head.

Why I didn't crawl between the sheets and go to sleep will forever remain a mystery. I never aspired to be a peeping Tommy. I might watch a little gay porn now and again, but what poor deprived country boy hadn't resorted to the joys of the Internet to get by until they could find a real man? That didn't make me a pervert. Unlike a few of the tricks I'd had since arriving in lower Manhattan, I didn't even like to have sex in public places. But in the blink of an eye I became a voyeur.


...Andy was sorta cute. I could invite him to a movie this afternoon and see what he said. It was one sure way to find out which team he batted for. “When do you get off, Andy?”

A smile played at his lips as he cocked his head to the left and raised his eyebrow. “Usually about midnight every night, one way or the other.”

I bet I looked stupid with my mouth hanging open. A wide grin split his face, then he laughed, a low, happy sound that said he was pleased to have rendered me speechless. Andy sobered, at least a little.

“Are you attempting to ask me out?”

I gripped my coffee cup for dear life as I gathered my wits. “I’m not sure now. I think you might need to go home and get some sleep.”

He leaned forward and brushed his knuckles across mine. “I don’t like to sleep alone, Ben.”

The smooth, silky way he said my name made me shiver, but I’m sure he intended that I would. Heart thudding unevenly in my chest, I met his gaze.

“Me neither, Andy, and I happen to be free around midnight.” I didn’t add that if we went to my place I’d make damn sure my curtains were safety-pinned closed.

He leaned forward again. “Tell you what. Give me your cell phone number and I’ll call you when my shift is finally over.”

“That’ll work. We can figure out what happens between now and midnight then.”

Andy smiled and shoved the rest of his muffin in his mouth as another customer hustled in out of the rain.

“Be right with you,” he called out as he stood. “I don’t know how long I’ll be, but I’ll call. Swear.”

“I need to head home to make myself all sexy, so you do what you have to do.”

He flashed me a parting grin and slipped behind the counter, then schmoozed with the new arrival. It was in my mind to wait a while before leaving, but the rain suddenly eased. Within minutes, the coffee shop was full of people. I cleared the little table and made a strategic exit. I saw no point in trying to distract him from his work just to say goodbye. A certain level of maturity was called for in these situations, or so I told myself.

On the other hand, I had a hookup for today that had a lot of potential. Andy was a friendly, charming fellow. Maybe I’d end up with a fuck buddy, which would be fine with me. What lonely fellow on his own in the big, bad city couldn’t use one of those from time-to-time?

As predicted, the rain kicked the humidity up yet another notch. Everything from the streetlights to the trees to building canopies dripped, but my trusty umbrella kept my newspaper dry. The apartment was stifling when I opened the door, but then the air conditioning cycled on. I toed off my shoes and settled at the table to finish my almost cold coffee and leaf through the paper. If Andy did call, I didn’t want to spend the entire day in bed.

Unless, of course, he could get it up more times in an afternoon than I was capable of doing. That would be a game changer, not to mention it would impress the hell out of me.

The paper yielded a few possible activities. I circled them, put on a fresh pot of coffee, and took a fast shower. It was almost eleven o’clock when Andy finally called. He wanted to dash home for a shower and suggested we meet at the Port Authority Bus Terminal on 42nd Street at one o’clock.

There was a movie he wanted to see, his treat, then we could get an early dinner, nothing fancy, my treat. After that, we’d see how the evening shaped up. It sounded like a perfect afternoon, and I quickly agreed.

It didn’t take long for me to get nervous. I liked Andy and I didn’t want to screw up a simple date, but what if he was the clingy sort? I wasn’t looking for forever, just a good time tonight. If I got a different vibe from him, I’d have to make my intentions clear without hurting his feelings.

Nothing like getting ahead of myself. Jeez. And to keep from doing it again, I decided to wear a white T-shirt and jeans. Simple, yet sexy, with the message today was about fun.

Or maybe something else was already in the cards.

Andy greeted me with a kiss...


Eye of the Beholder is now available at
AmazonBarnes and NobleiTunes/AppleKobo
and other online booksellers

Contemporary gay romance