Guest Cristal Ryder with a Giveaway!

This is me since last Monday. I had carpal tunnel surgery which has really set me behind. So my visit here is a little restricted. I’m sorry.

My next release is with Ellora’s Cave January 31, 2014. Titled Four For The Show. I just got my cover the other day. It’s a quickie. Short, hot and the second story set in the sex club Desire After Dark.

Four for the Show

Cristal Ryder

Spectator Sex. Intriguing. Risqué. The idea of watching other people have sex excites Tara to distraction. She hopes Joe is as eager as she to slip into voyeur mode so they can take another step in their sexual adventures. The last thing she expects is to evolve from watching ménages to being part of the show. Or for the two hot men who join her and Joe to not be able to keep their hands off each other.

Inside Scoop: In addition to being with three men, our lucky heroine gets a little foreplay of the female variety.

An Exotika® contemporary erotica story from Ellora’s Cave

See below for a little snippet.

So, I’ve been asked a few questions… a bit of a mini interview. Here goes!

What made you chose your title? Titles are important to me. I wanted to call it Watch Me but the title was already gone so I had to put my thinking cap on. This title best reflects the story and you’ll have to read it to know why :-)

What are you working on now? Because of my dratted hand, things are on hold which is extremely frustrating. But I am waiting for edits on my Harlequin Digital book titled She Wants It. This will be my first book with Harlequin and I’m thrilled. I’m trying to finish the last sex scene for a Sybarite story called Layover Lust.

What has been the best piece of advice you ever received for your writing career? Keep writing! If you want it bad enough you will keep writing.

BIO    

 Cristal read her first romance at age twelve. Taylor Caldwell introduced her to passion and romance that fueled a craving to read anything she could get her hands on.

Cristal wrote her first story at fifteen, and spent many hours escaping into worlds she created on the walk to and from high school with her friends.

Cristal lives in a small Canadian town, is a single mom of two college aged sons. Along with her writing, Cristal works full time, loves horses, the outdoors and will jet off at any given opportunity to see the world.

Cristal is multi-published with Ellora's Cave, Sybarite Seductions and soon with Harlequin Digital.

And because you’ve been so patient … here is an excerpt from Four For The Show.

I chewed my lip and read the tweet. Dare I?

I widened my eyes and read it again then sucked in a deep breath as I positioned the curser over the words. Before I could change my mind, I highlighted, right-clicked, saved and pasted it into an email for Joe.

Get hot and wet @desireafterdark Friday night w/#spectatorsex #sexclub #couples #singlewomen

My heart pounded and after just a nanosecond of hesitation I hit Send then laced my fingers together, clutching tightly, and rested my chin on them. How long would it take for a reply? Sure I had work to do, but right now I was dying to know what he’d say.

We were fairly new, a fresh couple who wasn’t really a couple. We’d met a few months ago and had jumped in the sack pretty much right away. Our chemistry was almost uncontrollable and the sex was great. No it was fucking unbelievable. We’d just clicked, both in and out of bed. But we were not a forever couple and had made it clear to each other right off the hop. It wasn’t as if there were anything wrong with him. Joe was incredibly hot and knew all my buttons. He’d be a perfect forever partner, but I just wasn’t ready for that yet.

One thing we’d never discussed was going to a sex club. Hadn’t even talked fantasies or desires, or secret wants. Yet. Now was the perfect time to start. Holy shit. Well, this email would certainly separate the men from the boys.

Spectator sex. Now that was intriguing. I hadn’t really given it thought before, but a little twizzle of excitement made me catch my breath. It meant we could go without any self-imposed pressure of having to join into any groups. Sit in the back. Watch. Get hot, horny and wet. And fuck.

I sat up when a new message announced its arrival into my inbox with a ping. That was quick. It hadn’t taken Joe long to reply and if that were any indication, I knew exactly what his answer would be.

Clicking the message open, I smiled. Guess who’s going out to party tonight!

* * * * *

“Parking is a bitch here,” Joe said, without a hint of frustration. One of the things I liked about him—how he just goes with the flow. He wheeled the big truck through the cramped parking lot. I glanced around and couldn’t agree more.

“I bet I can squeeze this beast into that spot there. Hop out because the door will be up against that bush.”

I grabbed my purse and after a brief contemplation of bringing in our gym bag with our swimsuits, decided to leave it behind. We could always get it later. The chill of fall was in the air and struck me after being in the warm truck cab. The gravel parking lot was hell on my stiletto heels so I put my weight onto the toes and hurried out of Joe’s way. It was frigging cold and goose bumps rippled along my flesh.  I wrapped my arms around my waist, trying to keep my body heat close.

I was definitely still in summer mode. The micro-mini and slips of fabric covering my breasts could hardly be called suitable for this brisk night. But I knew the unwritten dress code here, having been once a long time ago with friends for a pole dance night. Less is more. Skimpy is in. Exposure is key. So, with my pussy and ass almost hanging out of the mini, and my boobs pushing the limits of the top, I was set to blend in with the rest of the crowd.

Joe had the truck squeezed in and prowled to my side. The intensity in his eyes, dark and sensual, was enough to fire off all my nerve endings into a surge of awareness. I needed his arms around me, for both the chill of the night but also for the heat that flared deep in my belly.

“You’re shivering,” he stated. Always the practical one.

“Suffering for the cause.”

“When the hell did you buy that getup anyway and where have you hidden it?” He squeezed me and leaned down, taking the lobe of my ear between his lips. Gawd, I loved it when he did that. Heat bloomed in my already excited libido. “You’ll be the hottest bitch in the place.”

I moaned when his lips moved down my neck. “Hardly. Wait ’til, ahh shit…um, you see how they dress in there.” My legs wobbled when his hand swept down my back and squeezed my ass in a tight grip. “Joe, stop.”

He turned me and pushed me up against the cab of the truck. I yelped when the cold metal shocked my heated flesh.

“Do you really want me to stop?”

You can find me at:

www.cristalryder.com

https://twitter.com/#!/CristalRyder

https://www.facebook.com/cristal.ryderauthor

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Airplane Etiquette Run Amuck!

Okay, I’ve forgotten again and it’s been and gone……….TWICE!  Yeah, it’s me we’re talking about and what, you ask, do I always seem to forget about?  Blogging…that’s what!  OMG…just shoot me because I am too old to live!  I forgot to blog last Friday so AWESOME Alexis gave me this Friday instead and what do I do?  I freaking forget again!  Okay, this is getting serious.  Somehow, I have to start remembering to blog every other Friday.  Maybe I should have you all send me messages.  Uh…wait…maybe that won’t work.  Either I will be inundated with emails because so many of you read our blog or I will get nothing because you’ve all lost faith in me ever blogging again.  Argh!  The agony of the decision!!!  Okay, I guess I will just have to break down and put the ever-dreaded reminder on my Outlook calendar.  I know…you’re asking why I haven’t done that yet.  It’s me…that’s why…I’m Outlook-phobic.  I currently have 243 outstanding reminders popping up between my work calendar and my personal calendar and I can’t deal.  I loved the old way Outlook used to remind you with a separate reminder window for each item so I just dealt with one at a time.  The new system has me scrolling through a window of reminders to figure out which ones I have to delete.  I hate it and I’m still protesting.  Hey, this is my world I live in.  You don’t know what it’s like in here.  It’s difficult.  There’s lots of people all talking at once, everyone has an issue or a murder that needs solving, a romantic match that needs to be made, or a mountain lion that needs killing.  It’s sheer chaos and my Fairy Godmother ain’t a whole hell of a lot of help.  So cut me a break while I try to get over my need to protest the Outlook change and get on with my life…and with blogging.

Well, now that we have that outta the way, what do I talk about?  Hmmm…I remember a number of you have said to me over the last couple weeks, “You should blog about that.”  Yeah.  Unfortunately, that’s all I remember.  So I guess I’ll talk about something that is near and dear to my heart…airplane etiquette.  Huh?  You heard me…airplane etiquette.  Surely you’ve been on an airplane, shoehorned into that tight little seat with your tray down and a lovely drink in front of you only to have the guy in front of you throw his seat back into reverse and threaten to dump your drink in your lap.  So you scramble to save the drink with images of standing in the aisle in your new jeans looking like you’ve peed your pants while you choke the man in front of you to the floor.  The flight attendant is screaming, passengers are standing and pointing…well, they’re trying to stand, but keep hitting their heads on the overhead.  Somebody can be heard over the uproar shouting something that ends with TSA.  The other flight attendants are climbing over seats to get to us because the aisle is full of passengers standing and pointing.  The over-zealous guys in the emergency aisle are flexing and preparing to remove the 50-lb door.  The pilot is desperately trying to accommodate the weight shifts as everybody on the plane leaves their seat and lunges to the aisle in a desperate attempt to prevent a murder.  As the plane veers from left to right, a loud banging can be heard from inside the can where some poor unsuspecting soul is being bounced from wall to wall with his/her pants down around the ankles. 

 

No need for airplane etiquette?  Are you kidding me?   Next time I 'm gonna pack myself in a box!  I actually think there should be a seat reserved on every flight for the guy who enforces airplane etiquette and since we’re in the air and it can be tough to enforce rules without police backup, I think he should be given a gun and the authorization to use it on anyone who breaks the rules.  Plain and simple.

Okay, so maybe that’s a little over the top, but I fly quite a bit and I’ll tell you there is nothing more miserable than a flight where the rules are being broken or where there is someone who is into the whole “me” thing and not the good of the whole.  Now, don’t get me wrong…I believe in everyone pulling his/her fair share and I believe in the rights of the individual, but when you’re in a little tin can twenty thousand feet in the air with one hundred and twenty total strangers and three shrieking babies, I think there are rules that should be followed.  And here’s my list…

·         Women over 60 get to use the bathroom first.  The only exception is kids between 2 and 10…under 2, they are probably wearing a diaper and over 10, they are so anxious to prove they are adults—might as well start now!

·         Seats should be frozen in place by the airline so they cannot recline.  Either that or there should be a rule (enforced by the rule guy with the gun) that the seatback can only be reclined if there is no one behind you.  After all, if no one can recline their seat, everyone gets the same amount of space…the amount of space they paid dearly for.  However, the guy with the gun must be trained to have the offender pull his seat forward before shooting him or the person behind him gets stuck with traveling the rest of the way with the seat back because dead weight would be impossible to handle in those tight quarters.

 

·       Screaming babies…well, I will admit this was a tough one for me because I have a tremendous amount of respect for young parents traveling with small children and babies.  I’d rather have a lobotomy than have to do that again!  So what do we do with them?  Well, maybe we could get someone to invent a soundproof partition that could be wrapped around the seat or perhaps a sound-proof section (sorta like a downscaled version of first-class) where the travelers with children under 5 are seated.  Make it big enough to hold them all…maybe 1/3 of the plane.  And then the rest of the seats in that section can be filled with the late arrivals…you know, the ones that hold up the departure of the plane so you sit in that hot plane on the tarmac for a half hour while they arrive late, find a space half the size of their bag and cram it in, breaking your favorite ceramic pot you are carrying home from Aunt Clara’s house, then they smack you in the face with their elbows as they climb over you to take the empty window seat.  Yep, next time they get to fly in the screaming babies section.

·         Ipods that can be heard by anyone other the wearer should be confiscated.

·         Bags over 75 lbs should be prohibited in the overhead bins.  I’ve dodged some pretty heavy luggage coming out of those overheads and I think just because the body builder can carry it on and he got it into that carry-on size bag, that doesn’t mean my life should be put at risk every time he needs to get a tissue or a protein shake out of his bag stowed overhead.

·         And then there is the sneezer!  Well, this is probably the one that frustrates me the most.  Medicate, people!!!  Anything you take on the plane with you will be shared immediately and intimately with everyone on the plane.  So do whatever you can before you get on the plane to spare the rest of us your misery…and for Heaven’s sake, have tissues!  Sneeze into something like a tissue or a paper bag over your head…and if I’m sitting behind you, your armpit probably isn’t the best choice.  At the risk of sounding callous, perhaps we should expand the size of the screaming babies compartment to also hold sneezers.  After all, those babies and young children are pretty much little germ factories anyway.  Okay, I see you glaring at me…maybe we just add a sneezer section too.  Got a screaming baby?  You go to the Screaming Baby Section.  Got a cold?  On you go to the Sneezers section.  Or maybe we should give sneezers masks to wear...first sneeze, you get a mask.  But for the love of Pete, if you have to sneeze and have been so thoughtless as to not prepare for it, put your head between your legs and sneeze on your seat!  Do not sneeze on the top of my head as you make your way behind me to your aisle seat, do not turn your head away from the woman in the window seat to sneeze on me in the aisle seat, and do NOT wipe snot all over your hand and then expect me to hand you your drink when the stewardess can’t reach you…it ain’t happenin’.

And in the absence of all of these enforceable rules, I think airlines should be forced to serve alcoholic drinks free of charge.  After all, if I have to risk a riot in the aisles over a seat back, or wait a half hour to use the restroom, or listen to rap music through the headphones of the kid in the next seat, or put up with the headache caused by the shrieking baby that’s kicking the back of my seat, or dodge heavy luggage…the right to medication should be included in the price of my ticket.  In fact, maybe there should be some way the airline can flag those who don’t follow the rules and charge them a surcharge the next time they fly…or maybe I get charged less the next time because I followed the rules.  A surcharge to those who don’t follow the rules would pay for reconfiguring the planes to create a screaming babies section, or to lock down the seat backs, or to add a storage bin for the confiscated Ipods. 

And…just so something productive comes out of this blog…if you are ever seated next to a child who is suffering with his/her ears during takeoff or landing, suggest to the parents that they have the stewardess give them two plastic cups.  Have the child hold a cup over each ear, open side against their face.  Somehow, this helps to ease the pressure change.  Trust me, it helps.  And if it is a baby, you can help to ease their distress by plugging their ears with your fingers…just push the little flap over the ear closed and it will help.  Stewardesses used to tell us that on flights, but I haven’t seen them do it in years…probably one of those issues about providing medical advice.  So know this…I am not giving medical advice…I am just trying to help us all enjoy the flight a little more and avoid the possibility that some deranged passenger stalks you off the flight.  J

So…now that I’ve proposed a solution to some of the issues associated with flying, what’s yours?  Got a horror story or a solution you want to propose?  I’d love to hear it! 

 

That’s my story, airborne and astounding, and I’m stickin’ to it.  Hang on tight now ‘cuz we’re gonna go real, real fast!

Love ya,

Kayce

What Are You Reading?

     

    I just finished reading “Cloudy with a Chance of Marriage” by Kieran Kramer, a new author for me. I happened to stumble upon this book because the title just caught my eye (I also loved the look on the heroine's face) and I admit, I giggled (thinking of a movie that came out not to long ago: “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs”) and flipped the book over to read the back blurb. Who can resist lines like “Her heart’s been under the weather”? or “Is new love in the forecast”? Again, I giggled and bought the book.

      And I really liked it….the story, the characters, the author’s style. Everything. You all know what this means, right? This particular story is one in the Impossible Bachelors series so I’ll be hitting Amazon and looking for her other novels. I love when this happens, don’t you? My Kindle will be getting a few new books.

            But since I just finished this story and haven’t gotten to Amazon yet, I started looking around for something else to read because you know, I read three or four books at a time (and can’t remember a time when I didn’t). Luckily for me, I have a huge TBR pile, which is ever-growing, ever-expanding, and chose one from there. The winner is…..Ghost of a Chance, by Linda Andrews, which I’m really looking forward to (having read some of Ms. Andrews’ other stories, I know how good this one will be).

            What are you reading over the holidays?

As always, happy reading,

Marie

KC Klein with a Giveaway of Hustlin' Texas!

When Characters Don’t Do As They're Told.

I’ve learned a lot about myself while writing. One of the big lessons, and possibly the hardest, is that I am not in control. As an author this lesson is pretty much drilled into you from the beginning.

Once you’ve signed over your baby to a publisher you’ve pretty much given up any semblance of control.

Cover control: Ha, think again.

Title control: You’re crazy. (Though, I’ve been fortunate to title all my books, I don’t expect that trend to continue.)

Editorial control: Pick your battles.

But the one thing I thought I had a handle on, the one creative piece that really truly was my own, was just another thing I didn’t have control over—“The Story”.

When I first started to write there was a heady power in making these characters do what I wanted. Act a certain way. Do certain things. I believed and quoted my mother often. “I brought you into this world, and I can take you out.”

Fast forward to my third book. I started writing Hustlin’ Texas years before it was published. It was one of those books that just dragged on and on. It felt as if each chapter was a hardship. Some books are just like that. Nikki, the heroine in Hustlin’ Texas, was clear to me. Her voice rang very true. I totally got the smart aleck-screw-you attitude that she wore like a super hero’s cape. (There’s a possibility that her character hits a little too close to home.)

The problem came in the form of feedback from my then agent and crit partner. Nikki was too harsh. She wasn’t likable. The self-depreciating humor was a turn off. How could anyone relate to her?

The suggestion was to go back and make her more likable.

Great. Good suggestion. I am all about what I need to do to make my story better. As my good friend, Erin Kellison, says “There is no ego in publishing.”

She’s right. So I went back to “fix” what was wrong. The problem was Nikki kept coming out the same way. More smart-mouth. More attitude. And way more issues. I started the beginning of Hustlin’ Texas over three times with no better results. I finally put the book aside and admitted to myself that I couldn’t write a contemporary romance. A few months later my agent called and asked me where the story was.

Umm…ahhh…not finished. I had stopped writing because I feared that I didn’t know how to write what the contemporary romance market wanted. My then agent wasn’t impressed.

Between there and here there were some long twisting events that eventually led me to submit Hustlin’ Texas to my editor with Nikki in all her original glory.

The fact was the more I tried to change, or lead, the story a certain way the worse the story got. The conflict got lost, and I got bored. As I write this I wish I could say I’ve learned my lesson. That I learned to stop trying to force things and got out of my own way.

Um…I haven’t.

The next book in the series has officially taken the cake as the hardest book to write. I got mired in the same problem. I listened to others opinions about the story before I had it firmly in my head. I tried to change the story, control it, but as we all know that doesn’t work.

I think the biggest lesson is we aren’t in control. Sometimes we have to trust the process. Sometimes, ok for me most of the time, I’ve got to let go. There’s something about the charged energy a writer gets when they stop creating and just start being the vehicle that gives the story life.

I found I like the thought of control more than I’d realized, but I like a finished manuscript even better.

I hope you like Jett and Nikki’s story. I like to blame my first gray hair on Hustlin’ Texas, but for my readers I just hope they have a few enjoyable hours.

Thanks for letting me stop by, and please leave a comment to enter to win an e-copy of Hustlin’ Texas.

Enjoy the excerpt.

Excerpt

     Jett nodded, then glanced around the crowded bar. When he turned his gaze back on her, a person would be hard pressed to describe his eyes as anything sweet or candy like. “I was hoping you’d be up for a little game of nine-ball.”

     Nikki took a sip from her beer and raised her brow in question. Nine-ball was the hustler’s game. It was short and quick, without all the rules of straight pool.

     He nodded his head toward the tables in the back. “I heard you played.”

     “Then you heard wrong.” She took another sip, eying him the whole time. “I’ve given it up for Lent.”

     The corner of his mouth hinted at a smile. “Found God, have you?”

     “Among other things.”

     Jett glanced to the tables, then back to her. “One game. No money.”

     Nikki shook her head. “I don’t play for fun. No thrill in it.”

     He swallowed, and she could see his jaw work. “Then we’ll play for a favor. A debt. You up for a little more red in your ledger?”

     She didn’t want to ask, not really, but gambling was too deep in her blood not to hear the stakes. “What’s the favor?”

     He smiled, not the golden boy smile she’d come to know, but instead one that lacked any charm at all. “Well, Texas, that’s the thrill part. You don’t know until the end. Anything goes. No boundaries.”

     Her heart did a funky jump-start in her chest at the possibilities, but her game face was ice-cold.     “No limits?”

     “None. Unless that’s too much heat for you? We could place some ground rules if you want to play it safe.”

     Nikki knew what Jett was doing. It was so obvious, and yet, there was that achingly familiar thrill that zipped up her spine and buzzed in her blood. Some families were predisposed toward red hair or near-sightedness. The Logans were addicts. Throw a dart at the family tree and you’d hit a vice—drinking, smoking, shopping. You name it, and the Logans could turn anything into a compulsion. But really, under all the addictions, there was only one. One vice that was as indicative of a Logan as dark hair, brown skin, and blue eyes.

     It was very basic, really. The Logans were gamblers.

     There were stories as far back as her grandfather, if stories in the Logan family could be believed, who won his first car—a 1950 Cadillac—on the toss of a coin. Then there was her father, Dakota, who’d bet on every sports game invented, and even ones that hadn’t, like golf without clubs. Her father had once bet a hundred dollars on his ability to throw a golf ball through the eighteen holes. Legend had it, he’d won that hundred, but lost the money in the same night in an “I can piss into a can from the second story” contest.

     So Jett knew what he was doing. And Nikki was smart enough to know this was more than a simple favor and way more than a simple game of pool. She also knew something else. Jett was no match for her in this game.

     She hid her smile with a sip of her drink. The thrill of a “sure thing” was headier than any shot of tequila, more exciting than a leather-jacketed man on a motorcycle.

     “Oh, I can take the heat,” she said.

     “But can you handle this much heat?”

     “Oh, I can handle it. Because we both know I can beat you with one hand tied behind my back and blindfolded.”

     His eyebrows arched. “Then you’d best start figuring out what your favor will be.”

     Nikki put down her bottle, no longer needing the buzz. “Already have.” Her car fixed…for starters. “You really think you can beat me at pool?”

     God, he was so cocky. It was almost tragic.

     His eyes narrowed and there was absolutely no humor in his voice when he spoke. “Oh, I’m betting on it.”

Buy links for Hustlin’ Texas:

Amazon: http://kckleinbooks.com/HustlinTexas

Barns and Nobel: http://kckleinbooks.com/BNHustlinTexas

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/hustlin-texas

About KC:

KC Klein has lived most of her life with her head in the clouds and her nose buried in a book. She did stop reading long enough to make a home with a real life hero, her husband, for over sixteen years. A mother of two children, she spends her time slaying dragons, saving princesses, and championing the belief in the happily-ever-after. Her debut novel, Dark Future, is a finalist in the 2012 Prism contest and has been honored with a reviewer’s choice award. Her other titles include a sci- fi, 2012 RONE award winning romance anthology, Hotter on the Edge, and the first two books in her Texas Fever contemporary romance series, Texas Wide Open, and Hustlin’ Texas. KC loves to hear from readers and can be found desperately pounding away on her laptop in yoga pants and leopard slippers or more conveniently at www.kckleinbooks.com.

Twitter: @kckleinbooks

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorKCKlein

Pintrest: http://pinterest.com/kckleinbooks

Amazon Author page: http://kckleinbooks.com/AmazonAuthorPage

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5163507.K_C_Klein

And don’t forget to leave a comment for a chance to win Hustlin’ Texas.