Thursday, December 10, 2009

Iron Man - Book 2 in the Blood Slaves series is out!!

Iron Man
Copyright © KyAnn Waters, 2009
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

To Purchase

Iron Man

Book 2 in the Blood Slaves series

Rafe is a vampire and Adam is his human blood slave. But Rafe wants more—a blood bond. Adam is not willing to join the vampire world so he leaves it all behind and heads for DC and a new life.

Adam is back in town for the holidays. They rekindle their romance and head to the local fetish club, The Catacombs, where Adam is known as Iron Man because of his hardware—a steel cock plug and chain harness. They spend the week having wild, aggressive, kinky-as-hell sex. Anything goes.

When it’s time to return to the real world, Adam is torn. Rafe is more than a vampire, more than his lover. He’s his partner. Adam isn’t sure he can give up his humanity, even for the man he loves. He has to decide—a vampire blood bond or his lonely human life in DC?

Note: Two sexy men in a fetish club can get into a lot of kinky situations, so be prepared for anything, including all male, multiple-partner bondage sex and orgies in very public places.


Rafe threw another log on the fire. Sparks exploded from the crackling wood and rose into the chimney. Outside the living room window, snow continued to pile up on cars, houses and shrubs. For the second time in an hour, a plow rumbled down the street with yellow lights flashing.

He went back to the sofa and sipped a beer, wishing for the mind-numbing intoxication that wouldn't come. He hadn't fed in days and without the warm elixir of blood surging through his veins, he was without human sensation. Yet, he didn't have the energy to feed and even less motivation for The Catacombs, the vampire club that would see to all his needs.

The neighbors had really outdone themselves this Christmas. Colorful lights dripped from the house. The shrubs twinkled under the blanket of white and the porch pillars were wrapped to look like candy canes. Rafe hadn't put up a single holiday decoration. He no longer considered himself religious--not for three years. Not since becoming vampire.

With a groan, he leaned into the cushions. He was twenty-six years old and a seasoned firefighter of five years. This week off work was going to be hell. Shit, his life was hell. He wasn't taking time off by choice. His captain had insisted that he needed to mourn. He worked the graveyard shift at the station. And while he trusted the humans he worked with in harried situations such as an out-of-control inferno, he didn't trust them enough to bring any of them into his personal life. He hadn't trusted anyone since Adam. And that relationship hadn't worked out as he'd hoped.

Adam had been more than a blood slave to sate his hunger. At least, Rafe had wanted more. Without forging a blood bond, he and Adam couldn't have eternity. For that Adam had to become vampire, had to exchange blood with Rafe. They would not only bind their lives, they would share thoughts and live as one.

"Love," he said into the empty room. Love hurt like hell. Rafe had pushed, obviously asking for more than Adam had been willing to give. Then he'd pushed Adam out of his life altogether because Rafe hadn't been willing to settle for less than forever.

Now, instead of the sweet taste of Adam's blood floating over his tongue and warming his body, he fed from slaves at The Catacombs. Men who served the sect, served vampires. Men who weren't like Adam. Adam hadn't fed any vampire except Rafe. They hadn't just been symbiotic. They'd been partners.

Rafe drove the maudlin thoughts from his mind and considered his current situation. Tonight he'd rather not be home. He'd rather be hanging out at the fire station or on a call. He didn't wish harm to anyone, especially this time of year, but nothing cleared the mind like focusing on something else. Fires were dangerous, explosive and unpredictable. Exactly the way he felt.

At some point, he'd need to think about feeding. Right now, he just couldn't summon the strength to move. The silence was deafening.

Rafe started at a knock on the door. The hour had grown late. He couldn't think of anyone who would bother him tonight—not after the funeral. At this hour, his friends would be at The Catacombs.

With a heavy sigh, he stood, strode over to the door and pulled it open.

"Hi, Rafe, I heard you had a bad day."

His gut clenched. Emotion choked his throat. Adam Cross was the last person he expected to see at his front door. "You could say it's been a bad year." And it hadn't improved when this man walked away.

"May I come in?"

Rafe stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He swallowed hard at the sight of his ex. Today had already left him drained. He wasn't sure he wanted to handle a conversation with Adam. But he stepped aside anyway. "Sure. Can't say I'm very good company."

Adam dusted snowflakes from his rakishly tousled hair and hunched his shoulders as he crossed the threshold. "I used to be able to cheer you up." He faced Rafe. Heavy silence hung between them. His full lips pulled into a somber line and were slightly reddened from the cold. "It's been a while. I had to see you, although I wish the circumstance were better."

Memories of them together still stung. The breakup hadn't been bitter or angry. Adam had the opportunity to take a position in Washington, DC, consulting for the government. Prestigious, lucrative and a once-in-a-lifetime chance to excel in his field. All excuses. Adam had left to get away from Rafe. He'd made his choice.

Adam's skin warmed. Rafe flared his nostrils, drawing in more of the coppery-sweet aroma of the thick blood flowing through Adam. His cock stirred. Time hadn't lessened his appetite for this man. His acute hunger intensified and bordered on painful. As much as he needed to feed and wanted to fuck, now wasn't the time to ravage his former lover. Emotions still ran too deep and Rafe still wanted more than Adam's blood. He still wanted more than Adam was willing to give.

Adam shared Rafe's sexual predilections for adventure. Their playground had been The Catacombs, a highly exclusive place that catered to men with Rafe's appetite and Adam's inclinations.

Rafe nodded toward the living room and started forward. "Would you care for a drink?"

"That would be great."

Rafe walked to the bar. He still stocked Adam's favorite Scotch whisky, Aberlour, and poured two inches of amber liquid into a tumbler.

Adam stood next to the crackling fire and shrugged out of his camelhair trench coat. Damn, he looked incredible. Evidently their breaking up had been good for him.

A casual crew-neck shirt hugged the contours of his muscular chest. Adam kept in shape--he enjoyed the attention of looking good. His belted Dockers fit his job but not his personality. Not the real man that Rafe knew. Business casual was fine for the office but Rafe preferred him in a studded codpiece and leather chaps to show off his long legs and calves carved from granite.

Slightly damp chestnut curls brushed against his collar. Rafe hadn't forgotten the piercing eyes and thick lashes but he'd forgotten the intensity of the vivid green color. Square forehead, hollow cheeks and a cleft in his clean-shaven face gave him a masculine appearance.

Rafe handed him the drink then sat on the couch. He wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't seen Adam in a couple of months. With his mother's illness, he doubted he would've been good company.

"I came home…for Christmas." Adam sat in the chair facing the couch and rested his forearms on his widespread thighs.

"That's good. So how's your family?"

Adam rolled the tumbler between his palms. "About the same."

"I guess not much changes."

Adam lifted his head and met Rafe's stare. "We both know that isn't true." He took a healthy swig of his drink. "But not everything does." His heated gaze raked over Rafe, lingering on his face. "You look good."

Rafe smiled along with a nervous chuckle then combed his straight brown bangs from his forehead with his fingers. He should've had a haircut, but then he hadn't expected company. Hadn't expected Adam to show up on his doorstep. "I was thinking the same thing about you." He stood and crossed to the hearth. After opening the metal screen, he knelt on one knee and picked up a split log.

"I had to come over…when I heard about your mom. I'm so sorry."

Rafe paused then tossed the log on the dying flames. "Yeah, me too."

"If I had known she was sick, I would've been here for both of you."

Rafe released an unsteady sigh. "You left, Adam." He glanced over his shoulder.

"Theron knew where to find me."

Of course he would. Theron was one of the surviving seven, a Master Vampire. He controlled every aspect of his sect, including blood slaves. "I know, but I've never asked him about you." He turned back to the flames. "We both made our choices. I appreciate that you're here, but I haven't fed, haven't slept. It might be best if you go."

"No." Strong fingers closed over his shoulder. "To offer condolences isn't the only reason I came over."

Desire flared in Rafe's groin and his cock stirred.

"Come here."

Rafe paused then slowly stood. Adam wrapped long fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. A shiver skittered down his spine and his nipples tightened around the steel posts piercing them. Adam's lips were soft but insistent. Fuck, did Rafe really need this added complication? The man had a way of making him shed any inhibitions. They'd been wild and hungry for one another. Then Rafe's hunger had driven them apart. Adam hadn't thought Rafe could handle the limitations of their relationship. Adam had refused to bond with Rafe—refused to become vampire. He'd understood, but the rejection had still hurt like hell.

But the man could kiss. Rafe parted his lips and Adam's tongue delved into his mouth. Adam tasted good. A hint of mint blended with the essence of whisky and raw man. His grip tightened and he moaned low in his chest. Kissing back, his tongue swept into Adam's mouth, tasting, lightly sucking, then demanding.

Maybe Rafe needed this--to lose himself in his former lover, the man he still wanted, even if just for tonight. Inside, something snapped. A rush of need left him dizzy and his cock swelled against his jeans. Rafe became the aggressor, grasped Adam's buttocks and jerked him close. Adam groaned as Rafe pressed their erect cocks together.

"Is this what you came here for?" Rafe slithered his tongue against Adam's. He tasted better than he remembered. Intoxicatingly male. He threaded his hands through Adam's hair, holding his head as he deepened the kiss.

Adam ripped his mouth away and he gripped Rafe's shoulders. "I couldn't stay away." He shifted his hips, rubbing his groin into Rafe, pressing into the hard ridge of his shaft. "Is there another man in your life? A blood slave?"

He gave a low laugh. "Would you care?" Adam eased back and their gazes met. Rafe tugged on Adam's belt buckle. "Because I couldn't care less if there is anyone in yours." With fierce possessiveness, he cupped Adam's erect cock. "If you only stopped by for conversation, tell me now." He nipped at his lip, biting a little harder than he should. Part of him wanted to punish Adam for leaving but the bigger part was just damn glad he was there now.

"You always did want to fuck me."

With those words, Adam turned his head, laying open the flesh of his neck. Saliva pooled in Rafe's mouth, his tongue swelled and his canines lengthened. Control unfurled within him and the feral man, the part that wasn't human, took over. A growl rolled from his chest as his lips pulled back in a snarl.

Muscles throughout his body tensed.

"Now, Rafe. I feel as desperate as you."

Not possible. Rafe threaded his fingers into Adam's hair and angled his head. Opening wide, he hovered over his flesh, anticipating sinking his teeth into the sweet elixir coursing through Adam's veins--the drug that made Rafe human again.

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Friday, November 13, 2009

Ice Man: Blood Slaves

Available today!

Ice Man
Copyright © KyAnn Waters, 2009
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

To Purchase:

Book 1 in the Blood Slaves series.

Feeding and sex go hand in hand when you're a blood slave to a vampire. It's like a drug and Rowan is hooked. With the vampire Theron, Rowan has never wanted for more than his next fix. Until he meets Brett. Brett is hot, the sex is incredible and he's human.

Brett is looking for kinky sex when he goes to the Catacombs, an exclusive fetish club for men. Flair bartender Rowan, also known as Ice Man, is sexy and mysterious. Brett isn't ready to complicate his life with a lover outside the Catacombs and Rowan isn't interested in club-scene sex but coming together and giving in never felt so good.

Rowan's dark secret could destroy everything. He must never allow Brett to learn of his symbiotic relationship with the vampire. He has to choose--tell Brett the truth or remain a blood slave. He can only hope that Brett will trust in love enough to forgive him.

An Excerpt From: ICE MAN

Another busy night and patrons crowded around the counter. Rowan stood behind the bar, flipping bottles and mixing drinks. His hands were steady as he focused on the turns, juggles and flash that brought him excellent tips and inquisitive stares. Blood slaves and vamps mingled with unsuspecting humans. All gay men and all heavy into fetish and the lifestyle. The Catacombs was a pleasure palace to those seeking high kink and anonymity.

Rowan fed on the erotic energy and adoration. However, he never participated in the sex play happening in public rooms, private rooms, or the open fuck fest occurring in the Pit, a large room with few rules and few limits. His habits in the bedroom weren't for public consumption.

He couldn't say the same of his vampire lover. Some looked at Rowan with loathing and contempt. He supposed that was to be expected, considering he was the blood slave to the ancient vampire. It wasn't a role he accepted easily.

Rowan didn't have family. In his early childhood, he'd bounced from foster family to foster family. Adolescence was worse. He'd always known he was gay. His lips curled into a snarl as he took a mental trip down memory lane. Getting caught giving the captain of the high school swim team a blowjob had gotten him kicked out of the last home. He'd taken to the streets and had been there about a year when he'd met a man named Tac.

Incredibly attractive, obviously wealthy, dressed in all black and screaming sex, he looked good and smelled better. Rowan hadn't been able to take his eyes off the bulge of his cock encased in black denim. He'd worn a long black coat. That night seven years ago, Tac had offered Rowan a ride in his BMW, had taken him out to dinner then back to his bed.

Seven years.

Rowan shook off the maudlin thoughts. Part of him did belong in the club, belonged to the vampires. But that didn't mean he didn't want a traditional relationship. A man, not a vampire, to share his life. He glanced at Theron's private table. He sat with friends, laughing, exuding a sexual aura that attracted men like moths to a fire. They knew him as Tac, the king of kink.

"You have beautiful eyes."

Rowan focused his attention on the man seated in front of him.

"Ah," he said. "So you can smile."

"What can I get you?" Rowan wiped the counter with a bar towel.

"A mojito, a private room and an hour with you."

Rowan took a tall glass from the stack. "I'm working." He tossed the rum bottle and caught it above the glass.

"You're very good at what you do."


The man had piercing blue eyes fringed with thick feathery lashes. He wore a gentleman's haircut, trimmed close on the sides and a bit longer on top. Gray hairs weaved though the dark hair at his temples. Laugh lines creased the corners of his eyes when he smiled. Sharp angles created an interesting face. Ruggedly handsome, yet his deep voice spoke of refined elegance. A man who could sip champagne and still get dirty.

Rowan's cock stirred. The stranger intrigued him. Unlike many of the members of The Catacombs, this man wasn't blatant in his predilections. Men around them wore leather, PVC or bare oil-slicked skin, chains and collars. This man had on a silk shirt and trousers.

"I assume this is your first time here." Rowan knew everyone in the club. That was his job. He'd never seen this man before. He passed a pad of paper and pen to the stranger. "Member number." So he could put the drink charges to his tab.

Inside the club, anonymity was a priority. Men could spend an evening, fuck one person or participate in group sex. Or a man could slip into a private room, revel in any fetish and never share his name.

The man jotted his number on the paper. "Not my first time." He gathered sweat from the glass on his fingertip. "Though I did recently move to the area." He didn't elaborate.

Rowan focused on the way he traced patterns on the glass. Manicured nails capped long, thick fingers. Sparse dark hair swirled between his knuckles.

"It's a bit awkward," the man said. "We aren't supposed to ask for names and telling someone you want to fuck them isn't supposed to be uncomfortable here." He sipped his drink. His eyes raked over Rowan's T-shirt-clad chest. An answering warmth rushed into his shaft. His cock jerked. It felt good.

Men in the club didn't usually affect him. Perhaps he'd become desensitized to the tempting flesh on display throughout the club or maybe his lack of interest in others stemmed more from the fact that Theron fucked him hard and often.

"Rowan," he said without thinking about it too long. He extended his hand and the man enclosed it in the strong, solid warmth of his. Fingers tightened and held for just a moment.

"Brett Kirsch." He loosened his grip and they slowly let go. "A pleasure."

What the fuck? Rowan's pulse pounded and blood surged from his brain into his cock. His balls tingled and his skin was electrified. Desire simmered in his gut, turning hot. Sweat trickled down his back. A pleasure for sure. An unexpected one.

Not that he could do anything about the rush of blood into his shaft or the flash of desire warming his balls. Not without interference. He immediately scanned the area for Theron. The vampire, in the Zenith, would know the dangerous thoughts in Rowan's head.

"So we have names." Brett took a sip of his mojito. Now would they have sex?

"Your offer is tempting but I don't fuck in the club."

Brett raised an eyebrow and his mouth twisted with mirth. "You don't find the surroundings arousing?"

Rowan glanced at the men sipping beers, hooking up, determining who could best fulfill their darker desires. "No." He snapped his gaze back to Brett. "Not usually." He paused, took a chance on having his thoughts heard and then spoke. "That doesn't mean I'm not interested." Tension tightened his shoulders. "And I'm working."

"When do you get off?"

Rowan smiled.

"I meant, when do you stop working?"

Rowan worked at the club every night. His shift started after dark. Normally he stuck around until the crowds thinned but Brett could tempt him away. He leaned forward and whispered, "Would you be interested in getting together outside the club?"

Brett's smile faltered. "I wish I could." He took a hefty swallow of his drink. "I come to the club to avoid outside entanglements." He pushed the glass forward. "If you change your mind, I'll be around."

There won't be an after-hours party. Tell him not to go.

Rowan's stomach plummeted and his eyes slid closed. Whispered words couldn't keep his thoughts private—not from the mental link he shared with Theron. Usually he didn't care. With Theron, he'd held nothing sacred. Tonight he wanted a taste of something he'd never before considered. Chills broke along his arms. "Brett, wait." His heart pounded.

Brett turned. Rowan gave himself a lift by stepping onto the shelf behind the counter. In a leap, he lunged up and stood on the surface of the bar. Their eyes locked. He wanted one touch. Perhaps one kiss. He didn't know how Theron would react but he had to take the risk.

He stepped across the bar surface then placed his booted foot on the barstool. He jumped to the ground. He moved with determination. Nothing was going to stop him. Not even Theron.

What makes you think I want to stop you?

"Some choices are mine to make."

Rowan stood nearly the same height as Brett. His tight T-shirt, worn denim and combat boots contrasted the "business hot" Brett wore. He touched his tongue to his lower lip. Nerves sizzled. He didn't fuck members of the club. Nightly propositions were common. The heat firing through his system and hardening his cock wasn't.

"Does this mean you're on break?" Brett's smile cut deep dimples into his cheeks.

"I don't need a break to kiss you." He stared at Brett's mouth. Full lips, sensuous and soft.

"Then kiss me." He curled a finger into the waistband of Rowan's jeans where they rode low on his hips. A gentle tug brought their groins close together.

Rowan nipped at Brett's mouth, tempting his lips open with a flick of his tongue. His body felt alive. The man smelled incredible. Cloves and leather. He wrapped his hand around Brett's nape. The hair at his neck was silken against Rowan's fingertips and his skin warm. He opened his mouth and thrust his tongue inside. Sweet flavors of mint and rum mingled with the tempting demands of an aroused man. Brett groaned, grasped Rowan at the hips and crushed their erect cocks together.

A group near the bar erupted in cheers. "Ice Man. Ice Man. Ice Man." Ice Man wasn't just his bar name, it's how he lived. Rowan bantered and had fun while serving drinks but he had never savored the heady intoxication of a mysterious lover. Until now.

Rowan banded his arm around Brett and reveled in the play of taut muscles beneath his designer clothes. Shifting his head to the left, he deepened the kiss. He couldn't taste enough. Erotic swipes of his tongue glided against smooth inner tissues and teeth then dipped in again and sucked. Lips meshed. He hadn't realized how careful he'd had to be when kissing Theron. Brett didn't have razor-sharp teeth. He ate at Brett's mouth, demanding, hungry for more. He rolled his pelvis. Friction warmed his cock as it pulsed behind the fly of his jeans. Yeah, he wanted much, much more.

Brett grasped his buttocks. "Now do you want to fuck me?" Tongue rubbed tongue, slow then hard thrusts hinting at the intended promise of a night together weaving between them.

Take him to a private room. I'll join you there.

Rowan jerked his mouth away. He flinched, stepping away from Brett as if he'd been burned. "No!"

A dark shadow fell across Brett's face. "I wasn't insisting on anything. And you kissed me."

A lump like a boulder lodged in Rowan's gut. "You don't understand. It's not you."

Brett focused over Rowan's right shoulder.

Prickles tingled along Rowan's spine. He didn't have to turn around to know why the atmosphere around them charged with tension. Theron.

He stepped in close behind Rowan and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I see you've found someone to join us." Good choice. I can smell his musk. He's hot for you.

Brett's gaze shifted between them, recognition dawning. Members of The Catacombs had to go through Tac. To humans, he was a complex, secretive business owner who protected his establishment. He provided gay men a safe location to explore and be accepted in a dark sexual world of kink and fetishes.

"Rowan, I didn't realize you were involved."

Theron's grip tightened. Foolish and dangerous. You know better. No names.

"I'm only involved when my cock is," Rowan said.

Theron burst out laughing. "Well, I think your cock could be persuaded." I'm hard, hungry and need you, now.

"I'm working." He glanced over his shoulder. Members crowded around the bar. Two other bartenders handled drinks but without the flair and style he brought to the job. Flair bartending was the only show he gave. The scene playing out between the three of them held several vampires' rapt attention. Neither sex nor a situation with Theron was going to be the night's entertainment. Damn it. He knew better than to start what he was unwilling to finish. And he wasn't willing to play in Tac's playground. Their connection was personal and private. That vampires knew he was a blood slave was enough.

"I'm not opposed to joining the two of you." Brett smiled.

Will he let me fuck him just so he can fuck you? Interesting. I think we should put it to the test.


"Ah, no big deal." But it was and Rowan could see the disappointment in the downturn of Brett's smile and the shrug of his shoulders.

Rowan stepped forward and slammed his mouth over Brett's. He thrust his tongue between his lips in wild possession. Hot, sexy and full of erotic intention. He cupped Brett's cock and rubbed his palm over the erect length. Damn, the man was thick, long and hard. His mouth watered and his anus clenched.

You want him. Take him.

He ignored the voice in his head. "I do want to fuck you. Not here."


Brett ran his fingers over Rowan's abdominals. Quivers rippled along his flesh. "I wish I could, but I can't." He turned his focus to Tac. "Another time, perhaps."

Tac grinned. "I certainly hope so."

iceman_msr.jpg picture by KyAnnWaters

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

And the winner is . . . . SiNn!

Please email me at

thank you to everyone who stopped by and smelled the roses.

Now . . .

For a second chance contest, visit my website. Tell me the names of my 2 dogs. Email your answers to

Winner will recieve the Ellora's Cave card deck of covers.

Please put Blog Contest in the subject of your email.


Monday, June 22, 2009

Stop and Smell the Roses Blog Bouquet

I want to tell you about my upcoming release with the Wilder Roses:
Executive Positions by KyAnn Waters

Leave a comment today for your chance to win an envelope stuffed with fun stuff including a semi precious gemstone and crystal bookthong and a special surprise. Keep reading to find out what. ;)

Four years of foreplay is enough...
Avril Blanco experiences several positions with a sexy, driven executive in the advertising firm of William Carver. The complication... Monday morning the determined and powerful man will be her boss.
Ian Carver is taking over as CEO for his ailing father. His first executive decision—renegotiate Avril’s job description. He’s looking for a partner, in and out of bed.
But will she risk the reputation of sleeping her way to the top?

So I live in Utah and recently I was on the telephone with a friend in another state. I was making my kids lunch and asked if they wanted fry sauce or ketchup. She asked, "So what is fry sauce?"

And I told her about "Some Dudes Fry Sauce" Yes - that is the name of the tasty sauce for french fries, burgers, chips, fish, and any other food made for dipping. Here is proof and also a place where you can order -

So today's winner will also get a tasty bottle of Some Dude's Fry Sauce so they can enjoy a real Utah original.
So leave me a comment for your chance to win.

Are there any strange foods or activities in your town? (you can leave me a comment about anything)

I'll draw my winner Tuesday morning.

Stop by these participating author blogs for more chances to win prizes today!

Monday, June 01, 2009

Come join Liza James, KyAnn Waters, Desiree Holt, Meagan Hatfield, and Eden Rivers celebrate the launch of our blog, Romantic Cravings!
We plan to post every Monday and will have some amazing guests, so check back often!

Today stop by for a book craving - - Hot For Teacher by Liza James - - just released from

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

What is a Dick?

LOL bet that subject has you laughing.
So here is the story.
My son is in 5th grade. a naive 11. The class had the brilliant idea to watch a movie for their end of year celebration. So my son was introduced to Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.

I ask him how he liked the movie. (it's been a long time since I've seen it. I remember something about a phone book and a trench coat and I don't think I'm remembering superman although I can't be sure. :)) He tells me plenty of funny aspects of the movie then tilts his head to the side and ask me what it means to call someone a dick? I paused then said. Hmmm, let me ask your dad.

So I ask Sean, should I tell him it's short for Richard or do I tell him it references a part of the male anatomy? I certainly don't want him running around calling everyone named Richard, Dick. but the alternative is to tell him that yep, you can insult someone by calling him another term for your private parts. Well we opted for the truth and told him he's not old enough to use the word and it goes into the same mental word file for future use when he's older as shithead, fucker, and sooo many other enlightened terms he's come home from school with.

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

Wanderlust released today!

The world is waiting for her…and he’s waited long enough.

Meg Snow is having hot and wild sex with Cory Traven…in her dreams.

Four years ago he had his chance for a relationship with her. Instead, he joined the military, leaving her to endure Milcott, South Dakota on her own. Now it’s her turn for adventure and a chance to banish those erotic Cory fantasies once and for all—on a singles cruise to Jamaica.

Cory has come home for what he’d denied himself four years before. Meg. But she’s made it clear she wants anyone except him. There’s only one way to show her that what she wants and what she needs are two different things. How? Storm the beaches of Jamaica. Infiltrate his way into her bed. Breach the walls of her heart.

And show her that paradise is not in the Caribbean, but in his arms.


Cory realized two things—he wasn't in bed and he wasn't alone. Meg's butt bumped up against him. "Morning." He reached for her hip, but instead of the soft texture of her skirt or better, her smooth, bare thigh, he felt the roughness of denim.

"Good morning, baby," a deep, masculine voice said. A whiskered face placed a wet kiss on his cheek."Get off!" He kicked at Jake and pushed him off the couch.

"Get off me." Cory sat up. "Ow." He grabbed the top of his head and squeezed. "Tylenol." He fell back onto the couch while pointing to the kitchen.

Jake's chuckle pissed him off. Hangovers were a bitch, and he had the mother of all time hammering the inside of his head. Sharp pain stabbed into his temples and sunlight coming through the windows blinded him.

"When did Meg leave?" Cory asked.

"You, my brother, should know that better than I." Jake handed him two Tylenol and a glass of water. "So how did the date go last night?"

He raked his fingers through his hair and moaned. Even his hair hurt. He hadn't had that much to drink. Upon reflection, it had been a rather large bottle of wine.

"The date was a disaster."

"We told you Meg wanted more than mood music. The girl wants to feel special. Pizza and a movie are banal. You blew it, brother."

"Shut up." He popped the pills in his mouth and washed them down. "I really just wanted to spend time alone with her. It wasn't about sex."

"Then I take it you didn't get laid.

"It cost him, but he narrowed his eyes at Jake. "Meg's different and you know it." Cory leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. "I don't know what to do. Maybe I need a woman's perspective. Where's Sara?"

Jake nodded to the wall adjoining Cory's duplex and Meg's.

A low groan rolled from his chest as he stretched. "I'm not cooking and I'm not eating in Meg's kitchen. This morning Big Bird's Cafe is on the menu." Big Bird's served up delicious blueberry pancakes. But they were famous for their pheasant pot pie.

"I'm sure Meg will go so long as pizza isn't on the menu." Jake laughed.

Cory and Jake crossed the porch to Meg's side of the duplex.

Before the door was open, laughter could be heard from inside.

Sara squealed and launched herself into Jake's arms. "You'll never guess where I'm going." She turned her head and smiled at Meg. "Where we are going." She let go of Jake, but kept her hands on his chest. "Now, you might not like all the details." Her fingers walked over his pectorals. "But remember I'm doing this for my cousin. I need to support her and I also wouldn't want her to go on her own."

Jake smiled, but Cory had the distinct feeling he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear. Meg sat too quietly and appeared to be busy on her laptop. No, she was up to something."

So anyway, Meg found this absolutely fabulous deal on a cruise to the western Caribbean on eBay." Sara quickly kissed Jake to keep him from dissenting.

"Kiss him a bit longer," Meg said, and then chuckled. "He isn't going to like that it's a singles cruise."

"What?" Cory propped a shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. "No way." He tried to appear casual even though his internal body temperature spiked. He could just imagine the reception Meg would receive on a singles cruise. She wore those damn miniscule bikinis. Men would hover, waiting for her to show just a hint of interest. Then they would seize any opportunity to sample her.

"What?" This time it was Meg's turn to sound outraged. "It's none of your business. This is between Jake and Sara." She cocked an eyebrow. "I'm going regardless of what you think. I certainly am none of your business."

"Not the way I see it."

"No fighting you two." Sara disengaged herself from Jake. "Calm down. It's not a big deal. These ships plan events and everything is on the up and up. I can't very well let my best friend go alone."

"Exactly." Meg smiled. "Besides the tickets are already paid for. No refunds and we're looking for airfare now." She clicked a few more keys.

"We sail in three days." Sara squealed again. "I am so excited. I haven't had a vacation in years." She turned her lips into a pout. "And remember Meg couldn't come when we all went to Colorado."

"Are you nuts?" Jake asked with his brows furrowed tightly. "Don't bring that up. The girl carried a grudge for two years against Cory and me. We were only acting as chaperones."

"We're old enough not to need chaperones now." Meg bristled.

"Meg's right," Sara said. "And we don't need you to buy the booze anymore."

Jake's shoulders slumped and Cory knew the battle was over. Meg would never let them forget how they'd left her. It wasn't their fault she'd contracted chicken pox. She had to be quarantined anyway. Rather than cancel everyone's good time, they'd loaded into Steve Baxter's van and drove ten hours straight to Denver for a Matchbox Twenty concert at Red Rocks Amphitheater. He knew Meg had dreamt of Rob Thomas for months. She dreamt about all the men she found attractive. Whereas she'd been the only woman who'd ever made it into his fantasies. Of course he'd never tell her she'd been the object of every one of his teenage wet dreams. Especially since he was still having them.

"I found airfare for less than three hundred a ticket." Meg held her hand out to Sara. "Give me your credit card."

Sara tossed Meg her wallet.

"I'm paying for the airfare?" Jake asked."We're paying for it. Meg paid for the cruise ticket. It comes out even." Sara nuzzled her nose into Jake's neck.

Cory rolled his eyes. "That's what you get when you commingle money." He stuffed his fists into his front pockets. "Are we going to eat?"

"I told you Cory would be crotchety this morning." Meg handed Sara back her wallet. "Okay, we're set."

"Men aren't crotchety," Cory said. "Women are. Men are short-tempered, and you are testing mine."

Meg made her lips an O. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

Waking on the wrong side of the bed would have been an improvement so long as she had still been there. Instead, she'd just booked herself on a singles cruise. It didn't matter that he had a hangover, didn't matter that Meg and Sara didn't want to go to Big Bird's—his stomach wouldn't let him eat anyway.

For the rest of the morning Sara and Meg planned and plotted their cruise. Lucky Cory, he would have the pleasure of driving them to the airport. After last night, he had to convince her that what she wanted wasn't on a singles cruise, but standing in front of her.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

So I think it's pretty clear I'm really terrible at keeping up my blog. lol. But I'm home from RT and I have some news. I have a newly contracted story.

Executive Positions
By KyAnn Waters

Four years of foreplay is enough . . .

Avril Blanco experiences several positions with a sexy, driven executive in the advertising firm of William Carver. The complication...Monday morning the determined and powerful man will be her boss.

Ian Carver is taking over as CEO for his ailing father. His first executive decision—renegotiate Avril’s job description. He’s looking for a partner, in and out of bed.

But will she risk the reputation of sleeping her way to the top?

Unedited excerpt and may vary from final version.

Damn, his movements were deliberate and sexy. He stalked toward her with the determination of a predator, stealing the air from her lungs. “It’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said. His heated baritone was a mixture of confidence and raw sexuality.

“Welcome home and welcome aboard.” Avril Blanco extended her hand as a slow tentative smile found her lips.

“Thank you.” The newest addition to the William Carver advertising firm grasped her hand and the fine hairs on her arm tingled. He didn’t shake, but held her gently with his long fingers, his thumb grazing the tender flesh on the top of her hand with a deliberate stroke.

She tried not to divulge the clamoring desires rioting through her, but seductive awareness fluttered in her chest and made her nipples tighten. His intense stare locked on her face and she melted—just a little. To reveal to him he had a profound physical and sexual affect on the state of her panties would be tantamount to professional suicide. After all, Ian Carver was the boss’s son.

“Ms. Blanco, we’ll be working together.”

Yes, she was well aware of that—was well aware of him. She smiled, keeping her professional demeanor in place when all she really wanted to do is ask him to talk dirty to her with that voice, deep yet smooth like aged brandy. “You can call me Avril.” She tipped her champagne flute to him in a toast then sipped. “But as your father said, tonight is a celebration so no discussions of work.” However, that was probably the only safe subject considering the directions her thoughts were taking her. She’d been half in love with Ian for four years. Revealing that now would have her looking for a new job and she was just getting used to her executive office.

Ian hitched a hip against the conference table. His olive-toned suit coat parted giving her a glimpse of his muscular linen-covered chest. He sipped his champagne and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I like that idea.” He gave her one of those smiles that warmed her and weakened her knees. A dimple creased his left cheek through his five-o’clock shadow. “We’re finally going to be able to get to know each other better.”

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

March Coming-Like-A-Lion Contest

Is spring coming in like a lion or a lamb website scavenger hunt. Enter a drawing for a $50.00 online Gift Certificate to (Adult Content- 18+)

To Enter:

Visit my website and find the image of either a lion or a lamb. (for a hint, visit the contest page on my website) Then visit the other 5 participating authors websites/blogs and find the image on their websites. Make a list of the websites and whether you found a lion or a lamb. Email your answers to

Contest runs from March 1st through March 31st. Winner will be drawn the first week of April.

Here is a list of Participating Authors

KyAnn Waters

Ann Campbell -

Helen Hardt

Janna Lee Hayes

Sara York

Liza James

2009 EPPIE Finalist!
WanderLust Coming May 5, 2009 to Samhain Publishing!