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Showing posts with label Contemporary Romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Contemporary Romance. Show all posts

Thursday, April 27, 2017

It's all about the #MeetCute


 

Boy meets girl. It’s the way romances usually begin . . . and while we all love a happy ending, it’s the #MeetCute that wins our hearts.
How did you two meet?
The #MeetCute Books each have a unique answer to that query. Some might make you swoon, others might make you giggle . . . and some may make you blush.
Twelve authors. Twelve stand-alone contemporary romance novels. Twelve stories that will make your heart beat a little faster.
Because it’s all about the #MeetCute.

We are excited to announce the #MeetCute Books!

Starting on June 27th, we'll release one #MeetCute Book a month for a year. The release months and featured authors (and titles if available) are below. Please visit all the authors and get to know them, if you're not already a fan--this is a treasure trove of romance talent right here!

July: Rene Folsom BY CHOICE (A Playing Games Spin-Off Novel)
September: K.S. Thomas
November: Sylvie Fox WITH OR WITHOUT YOU
December: Lyssa Layne DEUCE OF HEARTS
January: Anne Conley KISS OF FORTUNE
February: Lisa Hughey
April: Violet Howe
May: JK Rivers IT HAPPENED ON A TUESDAY

Visit our website to find out about the latest releases, cover reveals and more! Like our Facebook page to keep up. And sign up for our #MeetCute Books Breaking News so that you never miss a release or update--or a special prize!

The first release under the #MeetCute Books logo is FIFTY FROGS by Tawdra Kandle. More information about this book will be on our website and newsletter on May 2nd . . . and the awesome cover will be revealed on May 16th.

(But psssst . . . it's already up for preorder on iBooks. You can read the blurb there!)
Until then . . . keep it #cute!


Monday, April 11, 2016

One More Chapter is LIVE



One More Chapter

A New Contemporary Romance by K.S. Thomas

Cover Art by Najla Qamber Designs (www.najlaqamberdesigns.com)
Photo by Laura Carlson of LCPhotoart
Model: Mikhaila Hamilton


Having overdosed on the cold, unyielding aspects of reality at an early age, books became a welcome escape I was happy to dedicate my life to. Editing romance novels seemed like the perfect career choice for the girl who craved fantasy and a world she could exercise a little control over. Bottom line, I like having a happy ending I can count on.
  
  Until...Jensen.
  
  Where I prefer to have my head in the clouds, unattached to the tumultuous roller-coaster of real life, his feet are so firmly planted on the ground, they're sinking in and getting buried there.
  
  Jensen seems an unlikely hero for any story, let alone mine. He's moody. And confused. And pretty damn sure there's no such thing as happy ever after.
  
  But then that's the thing about all the best happy endings. They show up when you least expect them to.


        “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Which part?” Because if it’s a simple matter of explaining the polite way to end a casual weekend sleepover, which incidentally was sex free, I can help him out no problem. Anything beyond that and we’re probably both in over our heads here. 
Finally, his gaze moves to meet mine. Only now I feel compelled to look away.
“Walking away. It's the right thing to do. It's what you should have done when I told you to. But you didn't. And you made me do it. And I did." He pauses to take a deep, painful breath but his eyes never waver from mine. “Then you came back and now... I don’t know how to walk away from you this time, Karma. But I can’t stay. I have nothing left to give you if I stay… And plenty I want to take.” 
“What if you can have it?” I breathe.
He shakes his head slowly. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” 
        “Because it would be wrong.” 
      I swallow hard several times, the intensity wearing on me. “Maybe it would be wrong not to. Maybe there’s a reason neither of us can figure out how to walk away even though walking away would clearly be less complicated. Maybe we’re not supposed to.”
         “I don’t want to hurt you.”
        “Then stop trying to pretend this isn’t happening. Whatever it is, you and me, it’s something. It’s real.”
        He exhales loudly, his chin dropping to his chest and I breathe in until the air fills my stomach, making up for the shallow breathing I succumbed to during this conversation.
        His hand is still in my hair, his wrist loosely resting on my collar bone. Who is he kidding? He can’t walk away. He can’t even let go.
        Then he realizes it too. His grip on my curls tightens and when his jaw rises up enough for him to look down on me, the brazen look in his eyes is beyond anything I’ve ever seen in them before.
        “I’m going to fuck this up,” he whispers.
        “Probably,” I say quietly, “but you might get it right. It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
        “You’re crazy,” he murmurs, his mouth moving dangerously close to mine.
        “Certifiably.” And I close the gap between us just to prove it.


Snag your copy now while it's only 99 Cents!! ~ http://amzn.com/B01DYDFRSE

Sunday, April 3, 2016

"Feminism killed chivalry" I'm sorry...what now?!

Facebook statuses are cool and all, but I find the comments tend to be a lot more entertaining. So, that's where I was when I found this gem last night ~

"Feminism killed chivalry."
And some douche who replied, "Amen." right below it.

Initially, I did find the ignorance humorous, and briefly considered leaving a vocabulary lesson in the comments below. But, I don't tend to engage, and it wasn't my page...so, not wanting to piss off my friend's idiot friends out of respect for said friend, I passed on responding.

That was then. Now, I've had twenty-four hours to stew in it, and I've decided, fuck it - I'm going to say my piece. I'm just going to do it here.

So, let's start at the top.

Feminism: the belief that men and women should have equal rights and opportunities.

Chivalry: an honorable and polite way of behaving, especially toward women

Tell me again how feminism killed chivalry. Because I see no correlation between the two. If chivalry is dead for you boys, it's because you let it die by not being chivalrous. It's that fucking simple.

But it's cool. Just blame that shit on women wanting equal rights. It is, after all, the root of all evil.

Meanwhile, let's explore the much deeper underlying issue I believe you were trying to address when you made your ridiculous statement. 

Strong, independent women are emasculating men and no longer appreciate true (super manly) gentlemen.

It sounds less ignorant, but it's not.

As a romance author, I can tell you without doubt, that today's woman is starving, STARVING!! for the strong, alpha males you ding dongs think have gone out of style. Don't believe me? Go google how much money women spent on romance novels last year. Then google current popular trends in the same genre. If you have one handy, ask an author busy churning out novels starring billionaires, badass bikers, fighters, soldiers and rock stars. Business is booming. Because they all have one thing in common. A strong, powerful male lead who's protective, loyal and honors his responsibilities.

From where I'm sitting, it's not the women who are causing the problem by asserting themselves, standing up for their own worth and taking charge of their own destinies. It's the men who refuse to evolve and meet them at their new (higher) level of standards. 

You can't have a moderately successful career, two roommates at your bachelor pad while having marginally managed to keep a cactus alive and then think you're going to roll up on a woman who's busy busting ass and taking names while she works her day job, raises her kids and still finds a way to not look like she doesn't sleep (which she doesn't) and has time to work out (which she doesn't) thinking she's going to be impressed. She's not. What the hell are you bringing to the table? Your ability to open a damn door? Thanks. I got that.

Chivalry is a wonderful thing. But it's so much bigger than picking up the tab or holding a door.

Feminism.

The belief that men and women should have equal rights.

Such an important word and yet, it's so often completely misunderstood. Turned ugly.

You know what's ugly?

That in 2016, I can sit in the audience at a comedy show and listen to a comic make jokes about his woman needing a beating and hear the loud roar of male laughter all around me.

That last night, I caught part of a movie in which a woman was duped into sleeping with a man she didn't know. A stranger. When she believed she was safely in bed with her husband. And again, it was intended to be funny.

It's not. It's rape. 

It's 2016 and we live in a society where we still can't tell the difference between a joke and horrific crimes against women.

So, no. Feminism hasn't killed chivalry. Hell, it's barely put a dent in the evil shit it's meant to snuff out.

I suppose you're wondering right about now what any of this has to do with books and writing.

Nothing.

Except, I'm an author. And a feminist. And every single fierce, fiery female character I write falls for a hero who for damn sure is doing his part to keep chivalry alive and kicking. She wouldn't waste her time on him if he wasn't. 

And neither would I.



Wednesday, February 24, 2016

In case anyone is wondering...

Anyone else feel like it's been ages since I released a book? No? Maybe it's just me, but it's driving me nuts and definitely causing me a fair share of anxiety. Apparently, hitting publish is the drug no one warns you about, because I need a fix and I need it bad.

Unfortunately, I'm not going to get one. Not right now. But, the good news is, I have something in the works. Something new. Something I hope you're all going to love as much as I've loved writing it. I'm probably eighty percent done with it, and at the rate it's been flowing out of me, I'm hoping to have the last bit written out within the week, making for a complete first draft. From there, it'll be all edits and beta readers and more editing and proof readers and so on and so forth, BUT if all goes according to plan, I should be able to feel that publishing high again by the end of next month.

In the meantime, I'm going to publish this little beauty here to hold me over :-D



Wednesday, November 25, 2015

**Last Girl Giveaway**



Eight Years Ago

Trix

“T
his is stupid.” It was already pitch black out to begin with, which isn’t my favorite when I’m standing out in the woods, but now it’s starting to rain, so I’m officially over it.
            “Chill out, Trix. We’re almost done anyway.” My brother, Bo, barely takes the time to scoff at me before he grabs his shovel again and pounds into the dirt even harder than the last time.
            “You know, we’d probably be done already if you weren’t too much of a priss to get your hands dirty.” My brother’s best friend, Penn, glares at me as sweat and rain begin to swirl together on his forehead and run down his face. He looks disgusting. Even in the dark I can tell. It’s easier, in fact, because I’m not distracted by the particularly spectacular shade of his amber eyes or the somewhat annoying amount of his muscles. Not that these things ever sway me in the daylight either. I’m not a fucking idiot.
            “Trust me, I’m getting plenty filthy just guarding this stupid thing from the rain while you two fling mud in every which direction.” I can feel their splatter catch on my pant legs every other stroke. It’s mostly coming from Penn and he knows it. “How hard is it to dig a freaking hole anyway? You’ve been at this for almost half an hour.” I pick up the flashlight lying on the ground near their hole and scan the area. I don’t like feeling like a sitting duck out here in the dark.
            “Would you keep that light down? What, you want someone to see us?” That jackass is always trying to pick a fight with me.
            “You act like we’re trying to bury a body out here, Penn. It’s just a fucking time capsule.” And I shine the bright light as far and high as I can. Just because.
            “You don’t know what I put in there after you added your girly shit.” He’s not even digging anymore. Just letting Bo do all the work. Typical.
            “Unless you murdered a little person and cut him into bits, I’m feeling pretty good about the fact that I haven’t been carting around a dead body in this box since we left your place.” Lightning strikes somewhere nearby and I nearly jump out of my own skin.
            Penn reaches out for my arm and yanks me over. “Get down between us.” And he motions for me to stay put beside the time capsule he’s dragged over beside his feet, just as lightning cracks for the second time.
            “Sacrificing yourself for me?”
            He shakes his head, tossing the shovel aside while my brother does the same. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m saving the box, not you.”
            Then, the three of us lower it down into the hole and kick the dirt, which is now mud, back into place as fast as we can before we haul ass out through the trees and back to the side of the road where we left our cars.

Penn

          After all the shit Trix was giving us to hurry up earlier, I was really counting on a chance to return the favor now. But apparently running track isn’t just for pussies like I always thought because that girl is so far ahead of us right now, I can barely make out her long blonde ponytail as it whips back and forth with each step she takes. Of course, it’s not helping that it’s dark out and there’s a wall of water separating us at the moment, but as much as I’d like to, I can’t blame either on how far behind we are, or how much I’m struggling to keep up as it is.
            “Trix, you ride with Penn and I’ll meet you guys over at the Taco Shack,” Bo yells, pointing for his sister to head for my truck instead of his Mustang when we’re finally all caught up and standing on the side of the road together. Neither I nor Trix is impressed by this suggestion.
            “Why can’t I ride with you?” This is so like her. She’d rather continue to get soaked and argue than just drop it and get in my truck
            “Because I told Lori I would pick her up on the way there.” He doesn’t wait for any more comments from Trix regarding the car situation. Doesn’t have to. Lori is the one thing Trix and I actually agree on. Neither of us can stand her. More than we can’t stand each other.
            Still cursing her brother, she finally gets in and slams the door shut when she does. I want to tell her to be gentle with Leila, but I’m not in the mood for one of her ridiculing speeches, so I just start up the engine and get back on the road, sending a silent apology to my beauty in blue while I turn up the radio. It’s the one thing I have Trix won’t be able to nag me about.
            “Like this evening wasn’t enough of a disaster. Now we have to hang out with Whory-Lori too?” She’s so animated and angry, her hands smack together loudly several times. Frustrated, she kicks off her flip flops, both caked in mud, and starts to shimmy out of her jeans.
            I almost swerve when I realize what she’s doing. “What in the hell? Put your fucking pants back on, Trix.”
            “I bet that’s not something you say to girls often,” she responds snidely and completely ignores my request by taking it a step further and stripping out of her shirt as well.
            I wait until her face is no longer covered by cotton before I respond, “You’re not a girl. You’re my best friend’s twin sister. That makes you Bo with a vagina and without a personality, unless you count the perma-stick-up-your-ass attitude thing you have going on.”
            “Bite me.” She throws her wet clothes into the back. “Now stop watching me and pay attention to the road before we end up wrecking. I gotta climb in the backseat and I don’t want you staring at my ass when I do.”
            I clench my jaw trying to hold back the slew of insults I want to send her way right now. “Trust me, I don’t want that either.”
            Keeping my eyes on the road is fairly easy after that. Until her foot nearly lands in my face when she slips and goes crashing into the back far less gracefully than she intended to, but about as classy-like as I’d have expected from her. Aside from the girly parts she was born with, there’s really never been much indication she was meant to be a chick. She’s basically the worst chick in the history of chicks. Ever.
            I can hear a zipper being pulled and it takes me a second before I remember she doesn’t have a bag to open in my truck. Watching her in my rearview mirror, my arm reaches backwards as far as it can reach, tugging at a strand of her hair to get her attention since she has her back to me. “What are you doing over there anyway?”
            She pops back around to face me in my mirror.
            “Going through your gym bag in search of something dry to wear. How dirty is this t-shirt?”
            “Blue one?” I keep looking up in my rearview mirror, but the headlights behind me make it impossible to see anything outside of outlines. Since she answers me without skipping a beat, I’m guessing she’s not having that problem though.
            “No. White one. Got a sketchy looking drawing of a dandelion and the words blow me written on it. That’s charming by the way.”
            It’s one of my favorite shirts. Of course she hates it. She has zero sense of humor and I bet she’s never given anyone a blowjob in her life.
            “It’s clean enough, but stay away from the gray running shorts. I wore those last practice.”
            I can hear her make a variety of sounds addressing the level of disgust she’s feeling as she digs through my bag.
            Then she’s back in my mirror. “What about the black ones, white stripe down the leg?”
            I have to think for a minute. Then I remember. “Only wore them like ten minutes on the drive home from practice last week. I was showered, so I threw them back in the bag.”
            “That works.”
            I wait until I know she’s shimmied into them and back in the mirror to add, “Of course, I wasn’t wearing underwear for those ten minutes…”
            Her hand flies out from the backseat and smacks me in the back of the head.
            “Ow.”
            Then her foot comes out at me again and I push it over toward the passenger side in hopes that the rest of her will follow it.
            “You’re gross. And if I end up with herpes or chlamydia or some shit, I’m going to kill you.”
            “Said the virgin who clearly doesn’t understand the first thing about how sexually transmitted diseases work.” But before I can give her a lesson, I’m already parking right outside the Taco Shack.
            “Do we wait here or go inside?” She’s glances out the window at the rain still coming down in buckets.
            “Unlike you, I’m still soaked and I could go for something hot. So, I vote we go in.” Then I open my door and make a run for it.
            Once we’re inside, we head straight for the corner booth. It’s the one we’ve been eating at since we were in middle school and our parents let us ride our bikes here for lunch on Saturdays. Even then it was always the three of us, because neither Trix nor I could convince Bo to drop the other. After twelve years of that losing battle, I wasn’t enjoying the prospects of starting a new one over Lori.
            “Hey, Lupe.” Trix smiles at the older woman.
 Guadalupe Delgado opened this place almost a decade ago and it still looks pretty much the exact same way it did back then. And much like her restaurant, Lupe doesn’t seem to age either. Her hair has grayed some in the last few years, but the warm, enthusiastic smile she greets us with every time we walk in is always the same.
            “You two are short a member tonight,” she observes as she places a basket of fresh tortilla chips onto the table along with an extra-large bowl of salsa.
            Trix frowns. “Actually, we’re gonna have one too many. Bo went to go pick up his girlfriend. They should be here any minute.”
            Even Lupe seems less than impressed about the news of Lori making an appearance. I guess I’m not really surprised though. It’s Bo. The guy isn’t just his parents’ pride and joy, the whole freaking town loves him. High school football captain. Valedictorian. Director at the local soup kitchen and big brother at the community center on Sundays. Bo Daley. Everything I am never going to be and the only one who doesn’t give a shit that I’m not.
            “I guess that’s the upside to Bo going to school on the other side of the country. This whole Lori thing is bound to fizzle out if he’s three thousand miles away.” I pull the salsa over to my side and Trix promptly yanks it back into the middle.
            “Only one problem, genius. We won’t get to see him either.” She shoves an entire chip in her mouth and half the salsa slips down to her chin and never makes it in. I’m sure if she were any other girl she’d die of embarrassment right about now, but she’s not. She’s Trix, and as such, she stares me square in the eye as she reaches down for the front of her shirt – my shirt – and lifts it to her face, sopping up the spilled tomato juice with it.
            “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”
            She shrugs. “You ought to know.”
            I guess. I’m kind of an asshole myself.
            With the argument at a comfortable lull, we sit there crunching away on our chips, aimlessly staring around the restaurant waiting for Bo. When Lupe brings us our third basket, Trix suddenly slams the table with the palm of her hand.
            “That’s it. I’m texting him.”
            I shove the basket of chips her way. “Relax. They probably pulled over somewhere…to…you know. The last thing he wants is for his overbearing sister to text him while he’s trying to get off.”
            “Gross.” She sneers at me, something she does often and has perfected over the years. “Even if that’s true, they should have been here by now. We’ve been sitting here for over an hour.”
            I didn’t realize it had been that long. “Are you sure?” I twist around to find the clock on the back wall. It’s almost ten thirty already. Another half hour and Lupe will be kicking us out. So much for our last meal at the Taco Shack before graduation. “Fine. Text him.”
            She reaches for her pocket before she remembers she’s not wearing her pants.
            “Shit. I don’t have my phone.”
            I slide my keys on the table. “Here. Go get it. And grab mine while you’re at it. I threw it in the console before we went out digging in the woods so I wouldn’t lose it.”
            “You go get it. Mine’s in my purse. In Bo’s car!”
            Anxiety begins to swirl at the pit of my stomach, but I tell myself it’s irrational. Bo’s with his girl. They just got distracted. Lost track of time. Only, Bo’s not like that. He wouldn’t leave us hanging. He would call. Yes, he would definitely call.
            I hurry out to my truck to find my phone, counting on the fact that I’ll have at least ten missed calls from him.
            As it turns out, I have twenty-three. And most of them are from Lori. Who’s a bossy control freak and probably had a shitfit when I didn’t answer. Considering I also have eleven new voicemails, I’m suddenly not only relieved but actually amused, anticipating the sound of her shrill voice attempting to chew me out. Lori’s one of those people who thinks she’s a badass, but totally isn’t. So, even when she tries to swear, it doesn’t sound natural, and as a result tends to have the opposite effect of what she’s going for. Hence, I’m already chuckling to myself as I hit call and punch in my voicemail password while I walk back in to see Trix.
            “I’ve got a crap-load of messages. What do you want to bet Whory-Lori’s about to go off on us for not answering when Bo tried to call to tell us they changed plans on us?”
            She leans in as I take my seat again, eyeing me closely as I wait for the first message to start, fully prepared to get an earful. Only Lori’s voice isn’t shrill, it’s frantic. And she’s not swearing, she’s crying.
            “Seriously, this isn’t funny anymore. Bo’s still not here and he’s not answering his phone. I know you guys were going off on some secret mission tonight…and you’ve got me totally freaking out now. Please. Someone. Just call me back. I don’t even care if it’s you or…even Trix. I just want to know he’s okay.”
            “What is it? What did she say?” Trix is paler than I’ve ever seen her. Or any human being for that matter.
            “Hold on. There’s a ton more. Bo was calling me too. There’s probably a message in here from him. Just…wait.” I start skipping through the back to back voicemails from Lori, bypassing them the second I hear her voice. “I’m sure he’s busy changing a tire somewhere, super pissed at the both of us for not answering the phone when he tried to get a hold of us.” I try to smile to reassure her, but I can’t. The anxious feeling from before is back and this time it’s taking up roots, fully prepared to ride things out no matter how hard I try to shake it.
            “But what were Lori’s messages about? Doesn’t she know where he is?” She’s starting to get hysterical and that only makes my anxiety step it up into panic mode.
            “Maybe his phone died. Who knows, Trix – wait! This is him.” I press the phone to my ear determined to hear something good. Something I can tell her to take that look off of her face.
            “Hey. Fucking Mustang crapped out on me. Stupid idle again. Anyway, I’m less than three miles out from Lori’s, so I’m just going to head over there on foot. Call me when you get this, or better yet, come pick me up.”
            “His car broke down.” I want to sell it for more than it’s worth, but I know she won’t buy it. “He decided to walk the rest of the way.”
            “When was that call?” She snatches the phone from my hand. “When was that fucking call?”
            “Trix! Stop tripping out. Nothing has happened. Okay? Fuck, he probably showed up at Lori’s ages ago and they just haven’t had a way to get here.” I take my phone back just as it starts to ring again. My eyes dart to the screen. “See! He’s calling me right now.”
            “Oh, thank God.” Her face drops to her hands, resting on the table.
            “Hey man, just got your messages. Sorry about that.” I reach over and pat her back. I suck at this stuff, but I know it’s what Bo would do if he were here.
            “This is Officer Grayson with the Sherriff’s Department.” My body goes frigid and I can feel Trix stiffen instantly in turn. “I’m sorry to have to do this, but there’s been an accident and we’re having a hard time ID-ing one of the victims. All he seems to have had on him is this phone, and it’s been damaged, but you seem to be the last outgoing call. Can you tell us the name of the person who owns the phone, sir? It’s important we notify the family as soon as possible.”
            “Bo. Bo Daley. Is he okay?”
            Trix’s stare is locked on me, her eyes wide and glossy and glued to my lips, but for the first time since I’ve known her, she says nothing. She doesn’t interrupt.
            “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t give out that information. Not until after we’ve informed the family of what’s happened.”
            I squeeze my eyes shut trying to drown out everything around me. “Margaret and Frank Daley. Those are his parents. They live over in Ponce. I can give you their address.”
            “Thanks. That won’t be necessary. I appreciate all your help though.” Then the line goes dead and everything is crystal clear again.
            I take her hand and lift her from the seat. “Come on. We need to get to your house. Now.”
            “What happened? What did they say?”
            But all I can do is shake my head over and over while I drag her along behind me. I can’t say it. Can’t put it into words. And even though I could tell her the same thing I keep telling myself – that I don’t know anything for sure yet – I know she won’t believe it any more than I do.


Sunday, November 1, 2015

It's Time To Get Naked...

via GIPHY

Relax. I don't mean literally...

Last Girl is just about ready to meet the world. Which means I'm mostly ready as well. Mostly ready. Slightly scared. But that's normal. You should be a little scared when you hit publish. Like, walk out of the house naked scared. I could do it. I've birthed a baby. Countless people have seen all there is to see, but I'd still feel a little apprehensive about it...publishing, it's about the same.

Last Girl will mark the 24th time that I hit publish and the 19th full length novel I've released in the last three years. I guess you could say, I've been busy. And not just writing. I've learned. Holy shit, have I learned. And it doesn't stop. Hopefully, ever. 

Aside from the countless ways I've continued to evolve in terms of being my own publisher and all that it entails, the thing I'm most excited about is the growth I've experienced as a writer.

I remember writing Blood Bound, my first time dabbling in suspense, and I was near the end when I was hit with a brilliant twist even I never saw coming. It would have changed the whole book. But I didn't go through with it. Couldn't do it. Was way too attached to my character to do the thing that would have taken the story's plot from cool to mind-blowing (Hypothetically. I'm not saying the book is either. It was number four on my list -that's 20 books ago! The truth is, it's probably somewhere around meh...) Point is, I chickened out. I wasn't ready to get that naked. I don't have that problem anymore. If you pick up my more recent work, be prepared to see my literary hoo-ha. 

God, that sounds crass. 

I'm leaving it. 

I'm bold that way now.

I'm also bold enough to tell you that Last Girl is kick-ass. Possibly the best I've ever written. So you should read it. Seriously. 

Okay, I'm just kidding. 

Sort of. 

I'm bold, but I still kinda suck at selling myself (hence why I hope the learning process never stops...I have plenty left to learn). So, I'm gonna let these guys do it for me:

"Your writing has slayed me, Last Girl was so awe inspiring and emotional. Thank you so much for sharing this story with us. I have never been rendered so emotional with a story until this one."

"Beautiful story!! So unexpected the whole way. I can't even begin to deal."

"Last girl..one word 'epic'."

"I've been reading ALL DAY (my famdamily think I'm crackers!) but I enjoyed every heart stopping moment."

"The book I'm beta reading. I'm in love with it. In love. It's perfect. It's everything. You're going to need to read Last Girl by K.S. Thomas when it releases."










Tuesday, June 9, 2015

New Release ~ Until You Fall In Love by Lyssa Layne

Until You Fall In Love by Lyssa Layne

 


Single mom Jordan Glastetter doesn't know how she'd survive without her best friend, Abram Tomko. He's the father her son never knew and he's the rock she's always leaned on. When Abram's father suffers a heart attack, it's Abram's turn to depend on Jordan, finally seeing her as the woman she's become and not the little girl he grew up with. Will they risk their friendship for a chance at love?


Abram’s breath is warm on my neck and he’s closed the space between us. I turn around to face him, only for us to be less than a couple inches away from each other. Looking up into his chocolatey brown eyes, my heart races. Get it together, Jordan, this is only Abram Tomko. Your best friend. Your husband’s best friend.

“I’ll handle it, thanks for letting me know.” I try to sound confident, like the fearless, single mom that I pretend to be.

Abram frowns, his hand moving to my waist and I feel his rough fingers on my bare skin between my peach tank top and low rise jeans. “Don’t, Jordan. Don’t act like you’re in this alone. I’m right beside you, just like I’ve always been.”

I open my mouth to speak, but Abram puts his finger to my lips. He’s right, he knows my mannerisms better than I do. Now that he’s brought it to my attention, this is typical me. When something is difficult, when I don’t want to impose on him, I push Abram away, but he knows I need him as much as R.J. does.

“Jor, for the past five years it’s just been me, you, and R.J. We’re a family, just like the other kids in his class. There’s nothing to hide, nothing to be afraid of.” I nod, he’s right. He’s our family and just like every obstacle since Robby died, Abram will stick by my side. His finger moves away from my mouth and I start to speak again when I realize he’s lowering his head toward mine. Not sure what else to do, I nuzzle my face against his neck and he lets out a sigh, blowing my hair. His mouth finds my forehead where he plants a kiss. Without thinking, I brush my lips across his neck, my pulse racing erratically. One of his hands squeezes my waist while the other fists a handful of my hair. An unfamiliar desire rips through my stomach and I lower my mouth, kissing further along his neck. Abram tilts my chin up, looking into my eyes and I suck in my breath.

“Mommy…” 

Abram and I jump apart, partially as to not be caught, but more so because my five-year-old only calls me “Mommy” when something’s wrong. Abram takes a few steps toward R.J. and picks him up. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

My almost-kindergartner is frightened, his lips pressed into a straight line and the fear in his eyes lets us in on his secret. “Pop’s sick, real sick.”



MoBPromo

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

NEW RELEASE ~ TIN by me!


It's LIVE!!!


Alright...now that I got that out of the way...the official release post:

TIN
AUTHOR: K.S. Thomas
GENRE: Contemporary Romance
PUBLICATION DATE: May 27, 2015
COVER DESIGN: Regina Wamba with Mae I Design
CONTENT WARNING: Adult content! (Language, situations...sex - yikes!)

TIN_ksthomas_high


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Men and I are done. Whatever entertaining notions I enjoy while screwing around with the random guys that cross my path, are exactly that. Entertaining.

I don’t want more. I’m not capable of more. More would mean feeling. Would entail wanting. Desiring. And a slew of other emotions I haven’t experienced in over three years. And it’s not due to any stupid naïve intention of trying to keep my heart from breaking, nor is it as a result of having it broken by some poor slob who should have known better.

I can’t feel. I don’t have a heart. Period. And it's going to take more than following some magic yellow brick road to get me a new one. Even if that road does lead straight to Riker ~The only soul on earth who's as close to being dead as I am... and brings me as close to being alive as I'll ever be.


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It’s been a week. One whole goddamn week. Every day I tell myself she’ll turn up before the sun does. Then, when she doesn’t, I go to work, convinced I’ll find her here when I get back. I don’t know why I tell myself such bullshit. I’ve never been much for denial in the past. For some reason this time I just can’t get a fucking grip on things. I knew it could happen. Actually, I was pretty damn sure she would bolt as soon as I told her everything. I don’t even know why I knew that, other than she’s a creature of flight who lives in constant fear of being the cause of someone else’s pain.

Ironic, really. Considering how much she’s fucking hurting me by being gone. Only she can’t see that. Or maybe she does. I don’t know. I just know she believes staying will hurt me more than leaving. She’s fucked up in the head that way. Fucked up in the heart. Fucked up to her very core. And if I ever find the bastard who fucked her up, I’ll kill him.

Her flight for California departs in less than five days. I’m guessing Kirsten will show up on day six to collect all of the stuff Quinn couldn’t carry on foot when she left here in the middle of the night. I had half a mind to offer her a ride, but she seemed hell-bent on sneaking out, so eventually, I just faked sleep to make it easier on her. But it’s been a motherfucking week. And I’m done faking sleep and making shit easier for her. If she wants out, I’m going to make her tell me. To my face. And then I’m going to convince her she’s wrong.

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I Call Him Brady ~ Salty ~ Drive

Blood Bound ~ Lucky In Love ~ Getting Lucky

Country Girls ~ This Christmas ~ It's Kinda My Thing

Secret Hudson ~ I Think About You ~  Bittersweet



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Dog Lover who likes her pastries full of cream and sugar….oh…and I write some ;-)

Aside from being an author, I am also a mom to a beautiful 5 year old little girl. I tell everyone I named her after my great-grandmother (because that’s the mature answer), but really, I named her after my favorite princess – just so happens I got lucky and they had the same name…If I wasn’t a writer, I would work on a horse ranch – I’m an animal lover (in addition to dogs, horses are at the top of my list). I wear flip-flops pretty much everywhere I go. I would rather stay awake until 5 am than get up at 5 am (years of bar tending have left their mark), if I can, I’m going to the beach AND I will always be nice to people who bring me chocolate…or coffee…if you bring me both, I’ll probably love you forever.A gypsy at heart, I write the way I live, following the story wherever it may lead, always ready to start the next one. This is clearly reflected in my body of work which to date includes everything from Children’s Lit to Thrillers.

I happily reside in sunny Florida (for now) and always enjoy hearing from fellow readers!!


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