Friday, March 20, 2015

All My Tomorrows coming April 1st

I'm happy to announce the upcoming release of All My Tomorrows, a contemporary erotic romance  from Ellora's Cave. It will be available April 1st. I will still release Incendiary and Misconduct as scheduled. I've flipped the dates. Incendiary will release April 21st and Misconduct in June. 
All My Tomorrows
Kathryn Kelly
Brittany isn’t the same girl she was four years ago. Haunted by memories of a violent attack, she hides from the world, hoping to go through life unnoticed. That is until Trey—her first crush and the only man she ever loved—reappears.
Trey had been around Brittany her whole life. Seven years her senior, he’d watched her grow into a gorgeous young woman. When she turned sixteen and suddenly started practicing her newfound feminine wiles on him, Trey realized he needed to back off. Four years later, when he runs into her again in a nightclub, Trey realizes they still share a special connection. Not to mention he can’t stop thinking about how badly he wants to make love to her.
Brittany wants Trey, but before they can have a future together, she’ll need to deal with the awful secret she’s carried with her from her past.
Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here! In addition, this story contains reference to a sexual attack in the heroine’s past, as well as a scene that contains a graphic, sexually motivated attack upon the heroine.
A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave



Without warning, a man slid onto the chair next to her and she recoiled away, losing her balance. She grabbed the table’s edge. Shadows created by the strobe lights popping against the wall were the only illumination in the isolated corner. Why had she chosen the gloomiest part of the club?  Anything could happen to her.
“It’s me, baby girl.”
Trey gripped her arm and steadied her, his drawl resonating through her, a balm to her heartache. He drank from the bottle he held in his other hand then set his beer on the table.
Trey had found her.
“Trey?” she whispered.
“In the flesh.”
The smile in his voice turned her disbelief at his close proximity into the startling reality he was with her. She’d avoided him after her assault then he’d moved away and she’d fallen into a deeper despair. She stood, launched herself into his arms and buried her face in the bridge between his neck and shoulder. He hugged her, his easy laughter rumbling through him and pulsating through her body. Safe and warm in his embrace, she held on to him, never wanted to let him go.
“Trey. Oh, Trey.”
Disentangling himself from her arms, he anchored her with his hands at her waist. For a moment, they remained silent, staring at each other. His touch burned through to her belly, tightening her womb. He pulled her close again and kissed her cheek. Close to her lips but still too far away.
Keeping one hand at her waist, he tasted his beer and closed his eyes. “Sit,” he directed, urging her toward her seat.
Once she complied, he looked at her again, his expression inscrutable.
“Why aren’t you out there dancing with your friends and casting your spell over every man who crosses your path?”
“I don’t do that,” she protested, loneliness echoing through her. She wanted normalcy, friends and fun, laughter and sunshine, not the all-consuming horror she battled. “I don’t like crowds anyway.”
His silence unnerved her. The shadows swallowed his expression.
Nervous, she shifted, grappling with the decisions she faced and the possible consequences. “I’m not a people person.”
“Bullshit. You were the captain of the cheerleading team in high school. Now try again.”
He slid his chair closer, and his scent, his cologne enveloped her.
“I’ve had a long week at school,” she mumbled, not a lie. She’d had a long two years at school. “And I’m tired. I want to go back to the dorm.”
She’d missed him so much and she’d loved him for so long.
Trey slid his finger across her cheek and another tremble hissed through her.
“Would you like me to drive you back to your dorm?”
His warm, roughened hands cupped her chin.
“Where’s your date?” she asked.
“Driving to her house, I would imagine.”
A surge of jealousy knocked away more of her hesitation. It wasn’t what he said as much as what he left off. Women fell all over Trey and he basked in their superficial attention. “Where you’ll be driving to in a moment, I suppose?”
“Tsk, tsk.”
A chuckle rumbled from him, the familiarity of it slamming through her. She swallowed. Trey was there. He’d always protected her. If anyone could heal the hurt inside her, he could.
“Do I detect a little green monster?”
She sniffed and his chuckle turned into full-blown laughter.
“Do you want a ride or not?”
“Let’s find your crew and tell ‘em you’re rolling with me,” Trey ordered, finishing his beer.
His hand at the small of her back, she threaded through the crowd. His touch heated her blood. When she found Irene dancing with some guy, Brittany beckoned her friend over.
“You don’t mind if I leave with him, do you?”
“I see you got his attention, after all. Good job, Brit! Go have fun with him. Pity you saw him first. I just hope you know what to do with him.”
Trey laughed. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Irene’s saucy grin and conspiratorial wink sent heat rushing to Brittany’s cheeks, shyness stealing into her. A moment later, Trey ushered her out of the club.


Thursday, March 19, 2015

Music, Muses, Questions, and Lagniappe

Music is in my soul and in my blood. I live for it and breathe for it. At one time, there wasn't a day that went by that I wouldn't play several CDs.

Pity I'm both rhythm-less and tone deaf.

In school, I loved music class, until the day I was asked to bring in a song to dissect the chorus and refrain as well as the bridge and the coda. I was in 7th grade and I was so excited. What did I do? I didn't bring in any Rock, R&B, Pop, or Hip-Hop. No, I brought in COUNT BASIE. Why? Because I listened to my mother, of course. AND because I liked the songs she introduced me to. I still like them.

I still cringe to think about the reaction of my classmates. It was an epic failure. I was shy....more shy. (I know what some of you are saying about my claims of shyness. To that I say, Do you, Boo Boo. Okay? :p) I wasn't mature enough to stand in my own truth and what I believed in. I wasn't brave enough to tell them I love MOST types of music. I just stood in mortification as most of the class laughed at me.

What does this story have to do with sharing my first attempt at songwriting? My mother, of course. She wants me to write a melody to Inferno. Yes, the song is titled Inferno, but will be in book 2, Incendiary. Even when I asked in outrage, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?", she's insistent. First, I never really learned to play guitar. I wanted to play lead guitar, but my parents didn't think it was lady like. Whatever. By the time, I could pay for my own lessons, I was doing other things.

Inferno (the song or the words to the song) is below and is the second draft. Because, yes, I love a good challenge, so yesterday, I looked up how to write melodies and worked on the words a teensy bit more. Am I any closer to getting a melody after spending hours frustrating myself to no end? Um, no.

What did I do to un-frustrate myself? I shot one of the characters in Incendiary. In the second draft, the character may be un-shot and I take the scene in a completely different direction. You'd be surprised at what goes on the cutting room floor as I transition from draft 1 to draft 2 to draft 3.

Below Sloane's song to Georgie are questions I've gotten and my answers.

Inferno (Sloane’s song for Georgie)

© Kathryn Kelly 2015

Verse 1:

The fire inside of me

The love that I feel

Is what dried up

my heartache and tears




Your love made me heal

Your love made me feel

Your beauty consumed me

Your touch was my torch

That turned into an inferno







Verse 2:

I’ll gladly cast

My soul into the flames

As long as you join me

And bathe me in your sweet love



Your love made me heal

Your love made me feel

Your beauty consumed me

Your touch was my torch

That turned into an inferno








You’ll always burn inside of me

Your amethyst eyes

are the mirror

to all that we share

You’re the only girl

who’ll ever own me



Your love made me heal

Your love made me feel

Your beauty consumed me

Your touch was my torch

That turned into an inferno








You’re the moth to my flame

The raven haired beauty

who made me heal

Your love is an Inferno

My inferno


Questions & Answers with Kat

1.) Why do you 'like' good reviews and bypass bad reviews on Goodreads?
This is a hard one. Seriously. As much as I appreciate everyone reading my books, whether they love, like, or hate them, I have moments of doubt. I'm no longer "the author". I'm just me. As ME, I get depressed when I see negative reviews. It doesn't mean I'm not thankful that a reader gave my book a chance in the first place. This is the best answer that I can give, so I hope this helps.
2.) Didn't you say you're not on Goodreads much?
I did. But if I've sent out review copies, I'll go on and check during the first few days of my book's release.
3.) How many books are in each series?
The Death Dwellers MC series will have a total of 10 books: Misled, Misappropriate, Misunderstood, Misdeeds, Misbehavior, Misjudged, Misguided, Misalliance, Misconduct, and Misfit.
Phoenix Rising Rock Band is currently scheduled to have two: Inferno and Incendiary.
4.) Will there be HEAs?
As far as I know. Or, at least, satisfactory endings. Let's take Johnnie and Kendall as an example. Not everyone agrees with how their story turned out. For me, it was an HEA. For others, not so much.
5.) Do you have plans for another series? A spin off of the Death Dwellers, maybe?
Not at the moment. My releases in the second half of the year will be standalones.
6.) How old will Georgie be at the end of Incendiary?
She should be 18.
7.) How old is Georgie in Inferno? Is she a minor throughout?
It starts out when she's four months from her 17th birthday, so she's 16. It ends when she's 17.
8.) Who are the men on your covers?
Daniel Sobieray (Misled and Misjudged). Jimmy Thomas is on the original cover. Robert Rieder (Misunderstood, Misdeeds, Misalliance), Logan Barnhart (Misbehavior's new cover), Travis Lee Ferguson (Misguided), DeLonn Donovan (Misconduct).
9.)What type of sense of humor do you have?
10.) Will you ever reveal yourself?
I've been asked this one a lot. My answer is yes. I will attend the Glass City Conference in October 2016, so you'll get to see me live and in person. Just be prepared.
11.) Why aren't you attending any conferences in New Orleans? You live there.
It still takes, like, um, money, to participate. I also have children and a mom with health issues.
12.) I hear you're in Houston a lot. Is that true?
No comment. :-) ;-)
Okay, y'all. I'm stopping here. I will go through more questions at a later date. Perhaps, I'll do a FAQ page. Have an awesome day.
p.s. Yes, I answer my own email, my personal FB messages, and GR messages. My assistant, Claire, does assist me on my FB author page.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Incendiary, (Phoenix Rising Rock Band Book 2) COMING SOON

I wanted to share Incendiary's prologue with you. Text is subject to change as this is UNCORRECTED copy. Sloane is 16 years old in this scene. I hope it helps you to understand our badass rocker a little better.




Waves roll onto the sand, the rush of the water energizing me and soothing away my disappointment over Dad’s sudden decision to have only Steffie and I spend the day on the yacht with him. Maitland and Adam understand, and Quint is surly anyway, so I’m not taking his annoyance personal.

“Fuck, man, I got up for nothing!”

“Yeah, well, dude. Life happens. Deal with it or suck my dick.”

He decided to deal with it.

Purchased at
On the bright side, I won’t have to bother with Kiln and his death glares or Jaeger and his superiority. It’ll just be me, Dad, and Steffie. I can live with that. Steffie is anxious to hear the song I wrote. Me and the guys have been in the studio at home, for days, working on the exact melody for it.

We’ve been putting the room Dad converted into the studio—at Mom’s urging—to good use. We spend most of our spare time in there. I say most because we have school and we have dicks that need attention from more than just self-stimulation.

Last weekend, we invited a few girls over to listen to one of our sessions. Somehow, it turned into…an orgy. My face heats up every time I think of it. It was the best fucking thing ever, but I’d never fucked in front of another dude nor had I ever fucked more than one girl in the span of several hours.

I want a repeat. Instead, we’re at our beach house for this weekend.


I halt at the sound of my sister’s voice. Turning, I grin when I see her at a dead run, her hair flying. She has a skirt thing around her one-piece bathing suit. I think she calls it a sarong, but I’m not into girls’ fashions, so I’m not sure.

Reaching me, she looks me up and down and makes a face.

I know her problem, so I just fold my arms and smirk.

“Speedos, Slo? Like, really? Who wants to see the imprint of your junk?”

“You’d be surprised,” I retort.

“Uh, disgusting. You’re sixteen. Not some badass rocker—“

“Yet,” I interrupt. If I have my way, I’ll soon be a very badass rocker. Me and the guys already have the name for our band. It’s a fucking spaz-ass name. Phoenix Rising.

Fire and flames are already in my head, shooting high into the air, as I ascend from a stage and girls are screaming my name. I jerk off to those thoughts and come all over the place when I imagine how much girls will love and adore me.

“I can still be your manager, right?”

“Who else would we have?” I ask in all seriousness.

Steffie is the one who gifted me with my first guitar. I still have it, even though I’ve moved on to lead and rhythm. I’ll always love it, and her, for helping me to find my talent.

“Can you imagine?” she whispers. “My baby brother and his band rising up like the Phoenix. In spite of Daddy.”

“Why’d you have to go and ruin my fucking day, Stef?”
My father, the great Rand Mason, wants his sons on the same team. He doesn’t doubt my talent but since Kiln is an asshead and Jaeger is an asslicker, he wants us all to work together. As in they play some type of role in my band, behind the scenes.

Why the fuck would I allow that? We may be related because of his blood, but we fucking despise each other. They’d sabotage me, before they’d do anything else.

Dad has sworn to not lift one finger to help us. He has contacts coming out the ass. Entertainment, politics, business. You name it, he has it.

At one time, my father could do no wrong. Ever since he decided to connect with his children from his first marriage, he’s changed. As a result, I’ve changed, too.

A growl grabs my attention. The sound goes off again. I realize it’s Steffie’s stomach. I hoot with laughter.

“I’m hungry,” Steffie mumbles, her face reddening.

“Yeah, well, I’m not.” More like hung over, but she doesn’t have to know that. She’d disapprove and cluck in disappointment.

I dislike disappointing my sister almost as much as I hate doing it to my mother.

Yawning, I scratch my chest.

She scrunches her nose.


“You need to…I don’t know…you look older,” she complains. “My friends like you.”

Some of them really like me and are giving me quite the education on the art of fucking. This is a far cry from the night, last year, that I lost my virginity. A fucking disaster from start to finish.

I lift my arm and flex my biceps, earning an eye roll.

“God, can you get a little more modest?” she says with sarcasm.

“Probably not,” I retort. “I can flex my dick, too. Wanna see?”

“You’re such a fucking perve, Slo!” she yells. “A gross one at that.” Her blush spreads down her neck and along the modest line of the scooped top of her bathing suit.

I’d bet my fucking inheritance that Steffie’s a virgin.

“F.I.O.M. alert,” she chirps, biting down on her lip.

Father in our midst.

Dad is striding towards us, dressed in swimming trunks, his chest bare. He still has a decent body, and doesn’t mind showing it off.

“You two ready to spend your day with me?” he asks in greeting, looking between the two of us.

Steffie sidles closer to me. She can handle Kiln and Jaeger, but she’s scared shitless of Dad. I’ve always wondered why.

“Sloane, your mother needs to talk to you for a few minutes. Meet Stefanie and me at the dock. We’ll be waiting on the yacht for you, so there’s no need to rush.”

“Mom needs to talk to me?” I ask skeptically.

Mom is the one who woke me up this morning, knowing I’d dismissed my alarm clock, as usual. It stands to reason if she’d had anything to say, she would’ve told me then.

“Yes, son. She needs to talk to you. Don’t keep her waiting.”

Of course not. My father is over-the-top everything where my mother is concerned. If she’s not happy, no one is. I’ve heard Adam’s dad joke that if all’s right with the wife, then all’s right with life. But, fuck, there’s them and then there’s Rand and Bryn Mason.

If Mom wants a fucking cloud from the sky, Dad will find a way to lasso that motherfucker and give it to her. It’s some serious shit. Like, fucking scary serious.

As in if you hurt my wife, I’ll take your life.

Of course, as Mom’s one and only child, I’m special, too. But Dad’s still Dad. The concessions he makes for Mom, he’ll do for no one else. Which means I’m either going to have to claw my way to the top of the music world or give in to Dad’s demands with Kiln and Jaeger.

Working my ass off, it is.

I fucking hate those jealous, overbearing, sadistic motherfuckers. Kiln’s an overgrown ape. If I hadn’t started to bulk up, he probably would’ve killed me by now.


Irritation shoots through me at Dad’s peeved tone. Steffie is rigid, her eyes pleading for my rescue. “Okay, Dad. I’m going. C’mon, Stef,” I say casually. “Walk there with me. While I’m talking to Mom, run up to my room and grab my phone.”

I really did forget it. Now, I’m happy about that. It gives me the excuse I need to bring my sister with me.

Her brow smoothens and she beams a smile my way. Steffie knows how to make me feel as if I’m a hero. It’s a good feeling. There’s a sense of satisfaction, as if I’ve earned something, instead of having everything handed to me.

That’s one reason I don’t give a fuck that Dad won’t help me and the guys with our band. When I get to the top, it’ll be because of the music I love to create. That we all love. We won’t become superstars because we’re entitled, rich boys with connections out the ass.

And we will become world-famous. We’re fucking awesome and we have a pact to succeed.

I’m shoved to the ground without warning. Landing on my ass, I stare at my father, stunned. He’s never once put his hands on me. He can be a complete dick, but he’s never been physically abusive.

Steffie flinches and steps back, her face going pale.

I’m trying to process her reaction, process my father’s actions, when he grabs me by my hair and drags me to my knees.
“Your mother wants to talk to you,” he repeats on a snarl. “Get the fuck to her. It’s still early and I have to get this over with. Steffie stays with me.”

The only reason my father is manhandling me is because he’s stunned the fuck out of me. I’m already over six feet, taller than he is. I can stomp him into the fucking ground if I choose.

But I don’t choose. Because I don’t know what the fuck is going on. Has Dad hit the blunts we have stashed in my room?

I get to my feet. “Fine, Dad.” Anger hardens my voice. I’m not the most level-headed person. I’m so fucking furious right now, I want to pound on my chest like a gorilla about to charge. “I won’t be long, Stefanie.”

“W-wait, Sloane.”

Enraged, I ignore Steffie’s plea. Black and red paints my vision. Red for my father’s fucking blood, and black for the carrion that will pick apart his fucking carcass. He hit me? He fucking hit me!

It isn’t until I near the house, and my temper is calming that I think of Steffie’s attitude. Her mom’s bitterness. Kiln’s viciousness.

Did my dad abuse them?

No way. Fucking impossible. Dad…he wouldn’t do that.

No, not my father. My father has always revered my mother and me. He’s respected and connected.

A chill sweeps through me as I reach our veranda. It’s a balmy, breezy day, certainly not fucking cold enough for these goose bumps to be rising on me.

Scowling, I open the door to the house. It’s quiet, with no sign of anyone waiting to see me. The guys are upstairs, dead to the world since Dad changed his mind about them coming. Kiln is probably just rising from the toilet that I swear he sleeps in. Motherfucker just cavorts in shit. Abby, my eighteen-year-old aunt, is still out, on the other side of the island, fucking the waiter she’s having an affair with.

My granddad was a dirty old fuck, but Abby’s mother was a money-grubbing cunt.

“Mom!” I call.

As expected, I receive no answer.

I turn to head out the door, but hesitate. If I go to Mom, I can look Dad in the eye and tell him I checked in with her. If I don’t go, I’ll have to lie, and there’s a risk he’ll discover that.

Then, we’ll get into a full-on brawl. No fucking way will I allow another man to put his hands on me, father included.

Stalking to my parents’ bedroom, I knock on the door.

“Come in,” Mom calls.

When I walk into the room, she frowns at me. She’s wearing a sundress, her hair in a ponytail. Typical mom, prepared for the day, bright and early.

“Something wrong?” she asks.

“Dad said you needed to talk to me,” I say tightly.

Sweeping her gaze over me, she shakes her head. Fuck, I’m wearing Speedos. I usually keep my cock less prevalent around Mom.

Heat sweeps through me and my blush must match hers.

“Cindy called. She was looking for you,” she says, walking to her desk and sitting at it, her back to me. “I did want to talk to you about that, but it wasn’t so urgent that Rand had to interrupt your day on the water.”

“Cindy?” I echo. All I fucking need is a date with the first girl I fucked. “What did she want?” I ask carefully.

“A visit here for dinner with us later tonight.”

“Of course,” I mumble under my breath.

“I thanked her for her desire to catch up, but told her you had other plans.”

I fold my arms, without commenting, but I’m so fucking thankful for my mother’s fortitude, I’m sucking my own dick in celebration.

Clearing her throat, she faces me, but only looks at my face. I can’t remember the last time Mom saw me in less than shorts. She’s shy and easily flustered.

“I hope that’s okay, son.”

“What? Mom, you’re a lifesaver!” I tell her with enthusiasm.

Cindy is the daughter of a family friend. Mom wouldn’t be too happy to hear I stuck my dick in her.

Fuck. Mom would be as unhappy to discover I’m having sex as I am imagining her finding out.

“Anything else, ma’am?” I say with as much little-boy charm as I can muster.

Her eyes twinkle at me. She’s on to my bullshit. “Get to the dock,” she orders.

With a mock salute, I turn on my heel and get the fuck away from Mom. Note to self: ditch the Speedos after today. I don’t want to so blatantly offend her sensibilities. The moment I found out it would only be Dad, Steffie, and me on the boat, I pulled them out. Who knows what hot girl we’d run into if Dad decided to sail somewhere else for the day. But the Speedos are supposed to only come out when Mom isn’t with us.

Thoroughly frustrated with both my parents, I make my way down the beach, heading towards Dad’s boat slip. I growl under my breath when I get to the curve in the beach that takes me to a little cove. Dad has pulled out of port already. The asshole has left me! Well, fuck him. The yacht’s idling in the water and it isn’t that far from shore. I’m a strong fucking swimmer.

What the fuck do I have to do all day, but recover from a long-distance swim?
My unconcerned thoughts float away when I hear Steffie scream. It takes me a moment, but I realize she’s in the water, bobbing up and down, struggling to stay afloat.

Jesus. What’s going on? Is she caught in a riptide?

“Steffie!” I yell, wondering if she can hear me.

She’s panicking. She’s fucking panicking, and that’s going to get her killed.

Just before I dive into the water, I see my Dad. He gazes at me, at Steffie, and then jumps in.

Let him save her. He’s right there. He’ll get her out…or get caught in whatever she’s caught in.

Fuck. I have to get to them.

Don’t let anything happen to Dad and Steffie. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

I come up to the surface for air, and doggy paddle, circling three hundred sixty degrees. Both Dad and Steffie are gone.

Fear and adrenaline surges through me, and I propel myself through the water. It’s taking me forever to get to them. I’m going to lose them, and I can’t. Along with my three friends, my father, mother, and sister, are everything to me.

I have to save them, find them, help them. Or…Jesus…recover them.

My eyes are stinging and after a few more yards, my lungs are beginning to tingle. Air. I need air, so I come up again. I’ve been timed at staying under water one hundred fifty seconds. So I’ve been swimming for a total of five minutes now and…

Dad. I see him. He’s there, not far from me. I think he’s trying to drag Steffie up…I think…Holy God, he’s…he’s not helping her up, he’s holding her under.

Deep down, I know Steffie’s already gone. I know it, but I don’t want to believe it. I know it, though. I saw the back of the upper half of her body and it was still, and Dad had his hand on the back of her head, holding it in place.

Dad killed Steffie.

I barrel into him, and he releases her. She’s sinking. My sister is going to be lost if I don’t get her…

Steffie, please, don’t leave me. Come back. You have to.

I grab hold of her body and wrap my arms around her. She’s still. She’s gone.

Dad grabs hold of me, and I start to panic. He’s going to drown me, too. But he’s strong and I’m devastated. When he tightens his grip, I stop caring. Let him do it. I want this water to overcome me and take me away from this nightmare. If I survive, I’ll have to live without my sister and live with the knowledge that my Dad, the man I once worshiped, her father too, is her murderer.

What is going to happen to Mom?

Somehow, he gets me and her back onto the yacht. I’m standing, then I’m not. I’m sobbing against her body.

Fuck, no, Sloane. Do CPR. You can get her back.

Yes. Right. My Steffie can come back to me. I put to use the knowledge of the CPR classes Mom insisted I take two years ago. For five minutes, I work on Steffie, but she refuses to cooperate. She refuses to breathe again.

I shake her and roar in helplessness.

Without warning, I’m shoved backwards. Dad again. No, not Dad. The man who was my dad. Now, he’s Steffie’s killer.

“Motherfucker,” I snarl, shooting to my feet and tackling him. I’m going to fucking kill him, then and only then will I put myself out of this misery. He doesn’t fucking deserve to live.

Somehow, Dad gets the upper hand and he’s whaling on my chest and stomach. He’s on his feet and grabs something from the corner of the deck. It’s a gun, and he aims it at my head.

“Do it,” I order. Hatred is most powerful when it has been formed from love. I. Despise. Him.

“I should,” he says hoarsely. “For killing your sister. Jealousy leads to ugly souls.”

No. No. “No,” I utter, knowing what he’s about to do to me. He’s about to ruin my entire life, pin my sister’s murder on me. “No!”

I stagger to my feet and start for him, but Dad cocks the gun.

“You do this my way. Or you die. Or go to jail.”
This is a nightmare. Yes, that’s the problem. I’m asleep after drinking too much shit, and smoking that blunt, and I’m going to wake up. When I open my eyes, I’ll still be in my bed. Late in getting to the dock. Maybe, left behind.

Breathing hard, I squeeze my eyes shut, ignoring the tears leaking from them. God, please, please. This is a dream. Please. I pop my eyes open again.

It’s still the same. My sister is still dead at my feet. My father still has a gun on me.

And I’m still broken, never piecing myself back together.
P.S. FROM KAT:  I haven't forgotten about Misconduct. Stay tuned for a Digger update.

Sunday, March 8, 2015

Are you ready for an Inferno?

A Note from Kat:

Inferno's release day is finally near. I'm so very excited. I can't thank everyone enough for all the interest you've shown in Georgie's and Sloane's story. The subject is taboo, yes. A girl who is four months from her 17th birthday falling for a man five months from his 26th. Some of you know who inspired this Lolita-style, May-December romance.

This is the story of two broken souls who manage to find one another. Sometimes, when we are lost and shells of the person we should be, we do very stupid things. Despite all of Sloane's money and fame, he has no one who truly cares about him. With the self-destructive path he's been on, he feels disconnected from the one thing that has always given him comfort--music. His father is holding a horrible secret over Sloane's head while his band is giving him one last chance to redeem himself.

When he comes across Georgie, whom he believes to be 18 during their first meeting, Sloane sees himself in her. He's attracted to her, but he always wants to save her before she ODs. Georgie is a girl ignored by her family. She craves her mother's attention and love. One day her mother loved her and the next she didn't. When she meets Sloane, her idol, and he shows interest in her, Georgie doesn't want to lose him but she knows he'll walk away from her, too. Besides her age standing between them, he's also a rocker with a legion of women after him.

There's another component to Inferno--Georgie's mother, Cassandra. She's as broken as her daughter. When Sloane comes to her bed at the invitation of her husband, she is beside herself. She finally feels young again and won't so easily let Sloane go. To her, Georgie is no longer her daughter but competition. The world is obsessed with youth and Cassandra knowingly ignores Georgie, to feel better about herself. Sloane is the bridge that crosses the Georgie-Cassandra divide.

Finally, I apologize for the cliffhanger. I wasn't sure which would be best. The cliffhanger or a book close to 200K words. I chose the CH. To be fair, I know everyone doesn't have my reading tastes. However when I have a choice between reading a very long book or a book that will be split into two or three different novels, I choose the latter. That isn't to say I won't read novels that are 190,000 words. It takes me longer to pick it up because with my day-to-day schedule, a longer book seems more daunting to me. Once again, I thank everyone who took the time to read and review Inferno.


I’m a rocker with the eyes of the world on me. Waiting for my triumph or my downfall…just waiting.

Most of my life is in my hands. My destiny? That’s another story. My destiny isn’t as debt free.

My band, Phoenix Rising, arrives in Houston to cut a new album. Before we perform our first concert in the city and I choose my groupies of the night, I’m thrust into debauchery. Sleeping with a gorgeous woman twenty years older than me has its perks, especially when her husband orchestrated the encounter and eagerly watches. To me, performing is performing. If a man wants to share his wife, who am I to stop him?

Unfortunately for me, I don’t make a clean getaway as I leave the McCall mansion. Georgie, their sixteen-year-old daughter, is in the midst of her own intrigue, sneaking home in the middle of the night after an evening of drugs and sex with her older brother’s best friend. In her, I see me. She’s lost and drifting. Her hedonistic parents insist she’s old enough to make her own decisions. Instead of time and love, they give her money and things.

I’m a twenty-five-year old international superstar and I know better. I’m cocky and arrogant. I know it so I own it. Somehow, I’ve always bested the fates. I have all to lose—my reputation, my career, and my freedom. Her mother’s jealousy forces my hand and I take Georgie on the tour.

This is our story and our secret relationship and the destruction of my life. You know the adage about secrets?  Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead. Wise words from a wise man. If only I had listened. Secrets have a way of revealing themselves in the harshest way.



It’s been written, that, for the life of the flesh is in the blood…For it is the blood that makes atonement for the soul.

The pain sliding across my belly represents the flesh, the blood, and the atonement. The weakness of my flesh, his flesh, the heat in my blood, has merged into the life I’m struggling to bear. I want this as an atonement. His, too, but I know it isn’t. Forgiveness for what I’ve done isn’t on the horizon.

If I could make it right, I would. Except making it right means I wouldn’t be laboring to bring his child into the world. Confused, I shudder and cry out at another sharp ache, wanting this over with. After writhing in labor for over twenty hours, I don’t know how much longer I can continue. I’m not dilated fully yet, but neither the baby nor I are in distress, so suffering through it is my only option.

How mistaken I was that I’d feel the agony only in my womb. It’s everywhere and it’s wearing me out. “I can’t do this anymore,” I complain, twisting at the cramping and the intense pressure spreading across my lower abdomen and back.

From where she’s seated in a comfortable rocking chair, Grandma’s unyielding eyes narrow. “You’re not fully dilated yet, dear.”

“Please,” I whisper. The wounded animal noises I’ve emitted for hours has hoarsened my voice. My pinned up hair is plastered to my head, long strands sticking to my face and cheeks. “Do something.”

She snorts. If not for my predicament, I’d mark this date on the calendar in my official remembrance of Helen Sanderson’s low-browed sound. According to her, ladies are prim, proper, and elegant.


The entreaty in my tone earns me a pinched glare.

“I’m not the one who did this to you. My assistance in this matter only gets you so far. I’ve done all that I can do.”

She nods to my delivery suite, the best money can buy, courtesy of her. Soft lighting, wood furnishing, a gorgeous view of downtown Houston. Music plays as a method of relaxation for me when, in reality, it tears me in two. I’m not sure why she requested to have his songs included in my playlist. Then, I remember.

She’s related to Mom. They’re both sadistic this way.

Sloane’s voice lulls me, soothes me, and breaks me. But it’s always been that way between us. From my first encounter with him when my brother’s best friend snuck me into a party I shouldn’t have attended. Fake IDs, a little makeup, and a lot of money works wonders.

“Court ordered DNA will prove he fathered your baby. Lock him away for years to come.”

When Grandma discovered my pregnancy, it sounded as if she’d made some type of agreement with Sloane. He’d thrown at me that she’d find a boy my age to claim paternity.

Double agony seizes me. Oddly, my emotional distress overshadows the physical torture. He lied to me. Again.

Tears rush to my eyes. Despite our history, I don’t want Sloane labeled in horrible ways because of his relationship with me. “Emancipate me,” I croak out, wishing the idea had come to me months ago when a haze of drugs claimed all my reasoning to remove my craving for love and search for someone to matter to. “Let me take control of my own life.”

“It doesn’t change your age, Georgiana,” Grandma scoffs.

“I’ll do anything except give up my baby for adoption.” For weeks, she’s attempted to secure my agreement for a closed adoption. “Whatever else you want.” My pulse thumps more frantically now than the hours I’ve suffered through labor. “Just help Sloane. Please,” I add.

Mouth pursed, she studies me. “You’ll never see him again?” she asks after a moment.

“As if he’d want to see me,” I mutter, unable to stop the words. The pain of how he feels about me makes me dizzy. “He hates me.”

“He never cared about you in the first place. He used you to make your mother jealous.”

A sob escapes me. “That isn’t true!”

“He had an affair with your mother,” she states coldly, a fact I already know. “He wanted more with her than she was willing to give, so he flaunted you in front of her. In the end, he rejected her and destroyed her.”

Mom and I might not have anything else in common but Sloane’s rebuff. Images run rampant in my head of the two of them together and Sloane doing the things to her that he did to me. Nauseated, I dry heave. I haven’t had solid food in over a day. By the time I went into labor, it had been five or six hours since I’d eaten.

“No more talk of emancipation,” Grandma says briskly. “You’ll be eighteen in a matter of months. It’ll take longer to finalize the legalities of freeing yourself from…” She waves a hand, her diamond tennis bracelet sparkling as much as the matching ring she’s wearing. Earrings, similar in style, are in her lobes. The straight strands of her silver hair are situated behind each ear. Money. Power. Ruthlessness. That’s Grandma. “You’ll do as I say to help your mother along.”

Bitterness assails me. No one really cares about my life. This is all to appease Mom and avenge her bruised heart and ego. My nostrils flare. After allowing another contraction to slide through me, I glare. “If helping her along means giving up my baby, then I’m not doing it. Disown me.”

Grandma clenches her jaw and huffs, tapping her fingers on the rocking chair’s wooden arm. Seeing I’m not backing down, she offers a terse nod and reiterates, “No more contact with Sloane.”

Weak and exhausted, I capitulate even as I wonder what makes her think Sloane would accept a call or visit from me. Humiliation aside, he supposedly used me to get back at Mom. Yes, he and Mom slept together, but I don’t believe he ever cared for her as much as he did me. However, with Grandma’s unyielding stipulations on me, I better understand Sloane’s ability to walk away from me when Grandma demanded it. That still doesn’t explain her renewed determination to make him suffer.

“Seeing you and Sloane together will only send Cassandra into another spiral.”

“Mom has Dad,” I point out. “It shouldn’t matter.”

“It does.”


“It’s your choice,” she interrupts. “His future, his career, is in your hands.”

Sloane’s music is his life. If there’s any chance for his band to be saved, I have to take it. “Whatever you want. Just help him.”

Satisfaction gleams in her eyes. I turn away, unable to bear it.

The baby kicks as my uterus squeezes and contracts and another groan falls from my lips at the hard wave of suffering. I second-guess my decision for a natural childbirth. Once I deliver, I’ll never think about having another baby again, or having sex again, or falling in love again. Sloane’s it for me, no matter how easily I was replaced. I understand his actions. I do. My age, his secrets, and lifestyle doomed us from the beginning.

Another pain hits me and I groan, tears slipping down my cheeks. Throughout it all, I wait for my hospital door to open, but it never does.

I’m alone, except for Grandma to torture me, but without my baby’s father at my side. A small photo of him and me is tucked away in my wallet, a selfie I snapped when we were happy and free, secluded at his Denver mansion. It helps to forget his hatred of me. Not that I really blame him.

I single-handedly ruined one of rock’s favorite sons and the baby inside of me is the proof.

Inferno was inspired after I read a news article about a much older man who fell in love with a girl when she was 16. My imagination took over from there and Georgie and Sloane were born. The ending to the real story was sad and heartbreaking. However, Georgie and Sloane will ultimately find happiness.

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