Tag Archives: Writing

A Twisted Romance – A must-read!

The sweeter the revenge, the more bitter the cost.

Ethan Ashford prefers the private playrooms of his exclusive club to the backstabbing elite society into which he was born. But when his billionaire ailing father asks him to attend a gala dinner, he reluctantly agrees. Only to encounter an eerily familiar face that freezes him in his tracks.

He quickly realizes the woman isn’t Joyce, a conniving social climber who almost ruined his family, but her cousin Siena Maynard, a fledgling fashion designer who pings Ethan’s Dom radar from across the ballroom. Even better, her uncanny resemblance to Joyce sparks a plan that will satisfy his hunger for revenge—and his craving to have sweet Siena at his mercy.

Phase one: Dig up every detail about Siena, from her dwindling funds to her brother’s shady connections. Phase two: Back her into a corner with one way out—to accept him as her sole benefactor in exchange for her total submission.

Ethan fully expected to take diabolical pleasure in Siena’s body, tears, and flesh. But he never imagined she’d sink so deeply under his skin that losing her would destroy what’s left of his soul.

Twisted Proposal is a standalone romance in the Central Florida Stories universe. Contains D/s dynamics, intense scenes, and lots of dirty talk.

Order 0nline here

https://www.amazon.com/Twisted-Proposal…/dp/B0BZK5HM76
https://books2read.com/b/bryR1W


Excerpt

Ethan spotted the open bar and made a beeline for it. Taking his reserved seat at the table required liquid nerve from a stiff one, possibly several stiff ones.

The bartender took care of him right away, “What will you have?”

Ethan stuffed a five-dollar bill in the tip glass. “I’ll take a scotch neat and a water chaser. Single malt if you have it.”

“Right away, sir.”

A hand fell on his shoulder. “Always a great tipper.” Ethan would recognize the drawl and the man in a packed room. Ethan turned and smiled. Daniel’s red hair could illuminate the darkest night. He’d let it grow longer, which made the color even brighter.

“Daniel. Glad to see you, cuz.”

“Are we in need of reinforcements?” Chuckling, Daniel slid next to him. He signaled to the bartender. “Vodka tonic. Double vodka, with a splash of tonic, please.”

The bartender acknowledged him with a quick nod.

“More like a whiff of tonic with your vodka,” Ethan said.

“Are you kidding? This is nothing. By the time I join the others, I intend to be properly shit-faced.”

As their beverages were served, Ethan pulled Daniel to the corner of the bar. “Which is your table? I’m sitting with the Browns. They’re not too bad, except for when Lindon dozes off and snores.” He shook his head. “Plus, his daughter is on the hunt for anyone who’ll take her off the spinster’s list.”

“Priscilla? There’s a shy mouse for you. We’ve had a few conversations.” Daniel grinned. “She’s as meek as she is vanilla. Not to mention naïve. If you showed her a pair of cuffs, she’d weep or have a heart attack.”

“I don’t need that vanilla crap. My conscience would kill me if I spoiled her innocence. You know where my head is at and the kind of woman I prefer.”

“Of course I do.” Daniel gulped the rest of his drink. He held the empty glass out to the bartender. “We’re much alike, dear cousin. I’m only surprised you haven’t taken the next step.”

“Full time M/s?” Ethan raised a shoulder. “My requirements are specific. The right submissive hasn’t come along. Speaking of slaves, did you leave Valerie home?”

Daniel jutted his jaw toward the doorway. “Hell, no. There she is. She went to the restroom. Valerie is my dining playmate. She keeps me sane and entertained. I couldn’t handle these stuffy gala events without her.”

Ethan glanced over his shoulder. He’d met Daniel’s stunning partner and slave at Club Nexus. Her strapless ruby-red gown was painted onto her hourglass figure. As she floated past tables and guests, her Celtic torc slave collar gleamed. She wore no jewelry except for her Master’s symbol of ownership. Men and women eyed her, some with desire, others with envy.

His imagination took off. Considering his cousin’s proclivities, Ethan was pretty sure Valerie’s every orifice had been wired and plugged with a remote-control erotic device. It was what he would’ve done. Now he wished he were sitting at their table, watching Valerie squirm, twitch, and keep a straight face while her Master turned on and off her intimate attachments.

“Would you like another?” The bartender’s question distracted his salacious thoughts. It wasn’t easy erasing the image. Valerie’s seductive perfume reached his nostrils. Hell, but the woman screamed sex.

“Sure,” Ethan said, combing his fingers through his hair. “I’ll take another.”

Shit, three drinks would be better.

Daniel clapped his shoulder. “I get it. She’s something else. Temptation on two legs.”

“Hey. I’d never—”

“I know you wouldn’t cross the line. I’m not blind, and the chemistry between you two is obvious. I know my slave. Valerie wouldn’t mind a threesome. She thinks you’re hot.”

“This is so embarrassing. How many drinks have you had?”

“Not enough.” Daniel laughed. “I’m perfectly comfortable sharing her with you. You’re my cousin and an experienced dominant who takes a lady’s pleasure seriously. Valerie is so expressive when she’s stimulated, it’s exciting to watch her. The three of us can salvage an otherwise boring night of business and turn it into hours of fun.” Daniel grasped Valerie’s hand. Pulling her close, he murmured against her cheek. “Do we invite Ethan to our room? What do you think, kitten? How would you like two cocks buried in you tonight? Hmmm?”

Valerie’s blush was soft. Lowering her dark eyelashes, she stared directly at Ethan’s crotch with a half smile. It was a clear display of desire. He was suddenly spellbound and submerged in deep erotic waters. The pull from Daniel and his slave’s seductive foreplay was irresistible.

He’d shared submissives with Daniel before. His cousin enjoyed threesomes. Ethan liked the physical aspect, but playing with and seducing the mind and spirit of a sub were his cousin’s specialty. Daniel knew how to knot up and unravel a submissive’s emotions to the point of wild paroxysm. He could write books about the process, and Ethan had learned much from him. Tonight might be one of those impromptu learning experiences. He’d made no commitments or plans, and an enthusiastic romp with Daniel and Valerie could save his visit to Atlanta.

“You’ve taken my head right out of this boring event,” Ethan said.

“True words.” Daniel arched a ruddy eyebrow, glancing at his crotch. “You’ll need a minute before going to your table. When did you fuck last?”

“You can be so crass.”

“Not crass, honest. So, when?”

“Oh, hell. Two days, maybe more. I don’t keep count.”

Valerie giggled. Frowning, Daniel held her chin. “You think this is funny?”

Her eyes went huge. “No, Master. Please. I didn’t mean…” She made a garbled sound and stiffened. Daniel must have activated the vibrators to full power.

Trying not to laugh at her predicament, Ethan hid his smile under his hand and glanced away toward the ballroom’s entrance.

His mind and heart froze.

The woman under the archway… Her gaze crossed briefly with his. His breath caught. He dropped his arm.

“No. It can’t be!” he exclaimed. His soul filled with blazing hatred. The urge to get close, clutch that pale throat, and squeeze until she went limp and lifeless in his fist overcame all thought. He made a move forward…

“Ah, shit. Stop, Ethan.” Daniel grabbed his arm. “It’s not her. It’s not Joyce!”


The Central Florida Series – Stand-alone reads.

Undeniable

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09XVP13H4
https://books2read.com/b/bz1PBD

Deception

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08B1DGSBSBooks2Read https://books2read.com/u/b6ZxqZ

The Lovely Danielle
https://www.amazon.com/Lovely-Danielle…/dp/B0C1F2FTTB

Twisted Proposal
https://www.amazon.com/Twisted-Proposal…/dp/B0BZK5HM76
https://books2read.com/b/bryR1W

Who Is Victoria Saccenti?

Award-winning and bestselling author Victoria Saccenti writes contemporary romance, paranormal romance, and romantic women’s fiction. Not one for heart and flower stories, she explores the strengths and weaknesses of the human spirit, the twists and turns of intimate interactions, and all possible happy endings.

After thirty years of traveling the world, she has settled in Central Florida, where she splits her busy schedule between family and her active muse at Essence Publishing. However, if she could convince her husband to sell their home, she would pack up her computer and move to Scotland, a land she adores.

https://www.facebook.com/VictoriaSaccentiAuthor

FREE DOWNLOAD. IT’S HOT – SEXY – & REAL

I don’t read a lot of books, but when I do, they have to be in a certain style, at a certain pace and relatable.

I’ve read every book in Victoria Saccenti’s Central Florida Stories collection. This book is just a shortish story, a novelette, but it packs a powerful punch.

Most of Victoria’s stories are character based, but this one delved not only into the actions of a sub and dom relationship but the emotions that these two players, Danelle and Sergio, express.

He’s looking for the perfect submissive. She is looking for her dom; only her last dom had dumped her and didn’t end the relationship the correct way. This left Danielle emotionally battered and unable to trust again.

I’m not going to go into any more of the storyline, but it’s well worth a read, especially if you download it now.!

Because until the 29th, it’s FREE.

Download, even if you can’t read it now!

DOWNLOAD HERE

Christmas Word Search

Welcome, Everyone, to my humble blog/website.

Here you will find all separate pages about my novels, the reviews, and links to where you can buy the books. There’s the latest news, links to my podcast, articles and blogging of other fantastic books.

But first …. here’s my little ditty to get you into the Christmas spirit. And the word that you need for this scavenger hunt is under the story.

P.S. It’s a little bit graphical.

Home Comforts

Christmas was fast approaching, something that Sarah Jane was not looking forward to at all. It was to be her first Christmas away from her family and wonderful England.

Sarah Jane had lived in Greece for the past eight months with her boyfriend Kostas, whom she had met while holidaying in Kavos, Corfu. During their time together, Sarah Jane’s months were filled with new adventures and experiences, so she didn’t have much spare time to think about her family or England. Only now, December had arrived, and Christmas suddenly seemed daunting.

 The closer the holidays came, the more Sarah Jane thought about her home and all the things she took for granted and now missed. Greece had their own traditions, but unfortunately, they didn’t include roast turkey and Christmas pudding. What it did include was a Christmas dinner of egg and lemon soup with boiled chicken – yummy.

Within no time, Christmas Eve arrived, and Sarah Jane was feeling very unhappy. She was upset with herself for not choosing to go home for Christmas and upset with Kostas for not making an effort.

“You’ll have to get used to it if you’re going to stay here.” He had told her.

The thing was, Kostas had been to England. He had experienced a typical English Christmas, so surely he understood how she was feeling and how homesick she was? But then, she couldn’t lay all the blame on him. It seemed that even her own family back home had forgotten her.  No presents, not one card. It was as if Christmas didn’t exist, and she wished the holidays would just come and go.

Already, she had made up her mind that it was going to be her worst Christmas ever.

Sarah Jane felt needed cheering up; it seemed even Kostas was avoiding her because of her moods. So that miserable Christmas Eve, she decided to visit her friend. Mary lived locally and was married with far too many children. She had survived many dreary Christmas. Sarah Jane hoped she would get some tips on how to endure the holidays and even a little support. However, all Mary could say was:

“You’ll get used to it. You wait until Easter; it’s fabulous; parades, big celebrations, you’ll love it.”

 But Sarah Jane didn’t want to wait until Easter. With a heavy heart, she left Mary’s and started to make her way back home.

She knew she needed to make an effort even if her heart said otherwise, and she didn’t want to spoil the holidays for Kostas and his family

She settled for a couple of drinks and a cuddle on the sofa with Kostas. However, as she neared the house, she felt a change. Home suddenly felt warm and inviting.

Sarah Jane stood speechless at the open door. Frank Sinatra’s familiar Christmas tune poured out into the street.

Her living room was covered in Christmas decorations. Tinsel and streamers showered every wall, and to her right, she saw the best-looking Christmas tree ever. It was adorned with beautiful garlands and twinkling lights, and her lungs filled with the scent of fresh pine. Underneath the tree were the missing presents and cards. Sitting on a seasonal-dressed table were mince pies, a bowl of mixed nuts, and a bottle of Moet chilling on ice.

Sarah Jane felt so happy; she thought she’d burst. Instead, tears flowed down her cheek.

Kostas had spent most of the day finding a suitable tree to chop down. The live turkey that had been hidden away was now sitting proudly on a plate prepared and ready for cooking. 

The postman had delivered the presents a week before. He hid them in the attic, knowing Sarah Jane would never go up there.

“Kostas, I – oh my God, how did you?  … I didn’t know – thank you. Oh, thank you so much.”

She ran to where he was standing, which happened to be under a bough of mistletoe.

“Merry Christmas, my darling,” he said. 

And as it happened, it was the merriest she’d ever had.


NORTHPOLE

Now please go to Fiction For The Soul to get your next word.

If you get lost, go to https://karenjmossman.com/2022/12/01/festive-blog-hop-2022/

#NaPodPoMo – National Podcast Posting Month.

So, I took part in this last year, and it was manic. Now I have more work, more clients, and more books to write, and I’m still challenging myself to record, edit and post a podcast every day through the month of November. I don’t just go online and talk for ten minutes, and that’s my podcast. No, these are full 30-minute interviews with my guests on Behind The Pen.

Got to day 16, and all is smooth sailing (so far)

Here are a couple of episodes you might be interested in.

Please don’t forget to like, comment and follow the podcast. I really appreciate that.


Was a member of the circus for over 18 years

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/napodpomo-day-5-circus-artist-julia-langley/id1618606008?i=1000585160546


Two funny guys who have a unique podcast.

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/behind-the-pen-with-steve-beach-and-brian-mayer/id1618606008?i=1000586190861


https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/napodpomo-day-8-with-debut-author-lindsey-kinsella/id1618606008?i=100058553756

Dinosaur lovers, come and meet Lindsey Kinsella

Please support the Facebook page as well.

A Match Made In Heaven

Please make sure to read the author’s note at the end of the story.

Illustration by Gabriel San Martin © 2022

The Blue Stone Bench

Karina Kantas ©2022

She’s there again. Just like clockwork, her and her dog. Every Thursday, ten o’clock in the morning on the dot, she arrives, coffee in hand. I wonder what she does or where she goes when it’s raining?  Why every Thursday? Why always this park, this spot, this blue stone bench?

Every time, I say I’m going to go over and introduce myself and talk to her. But every week my feet say glued to the ground. My mouth goes dry and my heart feels like it is about to jump out of my chest.

It’s her big brown eyes and the smile she gives to her dog. I swear she casts a spell that leaves me frozen.

Again, another week was wasted. Again, she bewitched me, and I knew at eleven o’clock she would stand up and leave the park. And I would have to wait another week before I see her again.

But fate had another plan!

“Benji, no!” I yelled as my small, patched Jack Russell scarpered off. I watched his little legs and the lead disappear around the corner before I registered what happened and started running after him.

I chased after him, but I’m not what you would call an athletic man. Don’t get me wrong. I’m tall and slim. You just won’t find me in a gym. That was made obvious as I had just completed a lap of the park, yelling for Jack (yes, I know, very original.)

And guess where I found him? Sitting beside her dog. I threw myself on the bench and held out my finger to her, hoping she would let me get my breath back, before she started up a conversation. I hoped she didn’t see my shaky legs that felt like they had turned into jelly and would have caved in on me if it wasn’t for the blue bench that became my rock.

The gorgeous lady looked at me. Her eyes twinkled with laughter.

I smiled, even though I hadn’t got my breath completely back. The lady held out her coffee to me. I shook my head.

“Please take it. You look like you need it more than me.” Her voice sang to me; smooth, clear and left me with goose-pimples.

She held the coffee out, and so I took it.

“Thank you.” I sipped the cooling dark, strong coffee. Umm just how I like it. A took a couple more sips when I turned to face her, intent on talking normal English words that would come out of a human, but instead, I just looked at her, with a half-open mouth and nothing coming out of it. Thankfully, she shot the embarrassment down and spoke first.

“I wondered how long it would take you to get the nerve to come over and say hi.”

Now my mouth opened wider in shock.

“I see. A man of few words.” There was laughter again twinkling in her eyes. “I’ve seen you and Jack a few times around the park.”

I knew I had to say something before she accused me of being a creepy stalker or something, which, okay I was watching her, a lot, but not stalking, and now it seemed my stealth wasn’t as good as I thought.

I sat the cup on the blue stone in between us and then held my hands up in defence and hopefully gave her my winning smile.

“Yes, we come here regularly and if you don’t mind me asking–Oh, shoot, my manners. Hi, I’m Mark.” I held my hand out to her, and she fitted her soft small hand into mine.

“Hi Mark. I’m Jessie.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jessie.” I must have looked like an idiot just staring with this huge smile on my face. “Thanks for the coffee, by the way.”

She laughed. “You’re welcome.” She looked down at her dog and then looked up at me. “Maybe you can return the favour sometime.”

She looked so shy. I guess it wasn’t often a woman ask a man out for coffee. Well, I wasn’t about to leave her hanging. “Yes. That’s a definite IOU.”

Jeez, her smile warmed my chest. I could just stare at Jessie all day.

“Umm, you were saying before you introduced yourself to me something about if I don’t mind you asking. I don’t, so go ahead.”

Her hand reached over and touched my arm. No, electricity didn’t occur, but when she moved her hand away I felt the warmth leave with it.

“So, umm. I see you and your dog sitting here every Thursday at around the same time.” I saw her smile vanish, and she had a faraway look in her eyes. Gosh, did I just put my foot in it and ruin this chat? “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. Just pretend I didn’t ask.”  I turned my head away while trying to think of something smart to say to her.

She shifted away from me, and my stomach dropped, knowing I had messed things up, and it didn’t look like I was going to get a second chance.

“Grace was my sister,” she said with a sigh. I looked to where she was pointing and saw a silver metal plaque with the words ‘In memory of my loving sister Grace,’ and two dates and then underneath was the line, ’Sing with the angels.’

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Jessie. I should never have asked.”

“No, it’s okay. It must have seemed strange seeing me here at 10 am every Thursday. My sister lost her fight with cancer on a Thursday at 10 am. She loved this park and used to come and sing. She had a wonderful voice, and people stopped to listen.”

“Then I can understand why this place and spot means so much to you. That was a beautiful thing you did for your sister, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Mark.” She smiled, and my heart lifted.

“I hope this is not too forward of me. But it’s coming up to 11 am when you normally leave. I don’t suppose you would like to go for a coffee with me?”

“I would love to.” She answered and held my hand as we walked out of the park with our dogs following behind us.

Author’s Note:

I manage the group Children’s book and illustrations, on Facebook. This is where authors and illustrators of children’s books can promote their work. When I saw the above illustration I immediately wanted to write flash fiction about it. The illustrator Gabriel Martin was very excited about the idea. And so above is the story I wrote using this wonderful Illustration as inspiration.

For more information and wonderful illustrations by Gabriel San Martin, go and check out the website. http://www.gabrielsanmartin.com

Please let the artist know what you think about this illustration.

I am an award-winning author of fourteen publications. You can find all my work and social media links right here.

https://www.linktr.ee/karinakantas

Day 28 #MarchoftheWriter

Book you’ve read the most.

I would love to grab all the covers of my favourite books, but that would be going against the copyright rules. And although I love breaking them, won’t be doing it this time.

So let’s start with the woman who inspired me to become an author. I didn’t just go to one book, as I have and love her full series of rebel teen, books.

S.E.Hinton

Mr J R R Toilkien For Lord of The Rings, the Hobbit and his smaller shorts stories and novellas.

My fantasy, https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/Phillip%20Pullman and his trilogy, His Dark materials

A lady not as well known, but what an amazing tetralogy Hush Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick. A MUST for fantasy PNR books.

You’ve all heard or seen the movie and then TV adaption of Cassandra’s Claire’s, The Mortal Instruments. But it’s her other series that stood out for me. Check out the trilogy of His infernal Devices.

Then there are the Best-selling authors that have written hundreds of books – slight exaggeration there. lol

Dean Koontz books have pride of place on my bookshelf. Door to December– has never left me, Totally chilling. Short stories in Strange Highways

Some of James Herbert’s books have become classic horror films, such as Rats and The Fog. But the book I have and has stayed with me is this one

And although I’m not a true fan, his book Neverwhere showed me the true meaning of Fantasy.

Day 26 #MarchoftheWriter

Plot or Pants?

I’m a panster all the way!

I don’t use novel software. I don’t have a storyboard. I don’t have post-it notes everywhere. The character’s name, the start of the story, the plot the world-building, even the ending is all in here.

When I start writing the dialogues the scenes. It’s done on pen and paper. Then when I’m ready. It gets typed up. The only part of planning is just keeping the consistency. So what the road name is of a character what bike he rides.

I love to be out, away from my workstation and sit in a cafe drinking coffee, listening to rock music as I type up the notes. People watching as I think about the next scene. Sadly that hasn’t happened for a while.

This is a panel I was part of, where we talked about pantsing and plotting. Make sure to like the video and subscribe to the channel.

Day 24 #MarchoftheWriter

Why do you write?

What a loaded question. I ask my guests on my YouTube show, Radio show and podcast, this question and it comes with a barrage of different reasons, yet one is always the same. Which one do you think it is?

Day 20 #MarchoftheWriter

 Block Breakers

The dreaded writer’s block.
It’s more the loss of the muse or inspiration, and there’s one tried and tested method that I always use.
I ask my fans on my FaceBook author page, to give me three random words. I collect all the words and write them down into three rows. Then I randomly choose a word from each row and they are the three words I have to use in my flash fiction. They can be plural and changed to suit the sentence, but the word I use must come from the original word, and you can use the word in the title. They are the rules of the prompt. And the flash fiction can be any length, but I try not to go over 1000. After I’ve completed the challenge, I get my creative juices back and can return to the MS and the scene that stopped me in my tracks and finish it.

Here’s one of my favourite flash fiction. The words were jelly, butterfly and corpse.

Butterfy Effect

© Karina Kantas 2020 from the book, A Flash of Horror.
© 2007 Heads & Tales.


Who would volunteer their face for a scientific experiment? Well, I wouldn’t. Neither would any sane member of the public, which is why inmates serving life sentences were handed over for this government project.

By the time the bill passed, freedom of speech had been demolished. So, there were very few demonstrations.

Now the famous chemist, biologists and DNA experts had one year to perfect an antidote for ugliness.

Being branded ugly put you in a new class, the lowest in society. Ugly people were shunned and segregated by the butterflies of the modem regime. The ugly people were forced to live and work in the poorest parts of the country. However, even that wasn’t enough to satisfy the beautiful people. It was announced that if the wondrous treatment did not work, then drastic measures would be taken.

I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat as I barely glanced at the deformed face of what used to be prisoner X. Taking a deep breath I forced myself to look again, before turning to Dr. Sapphire Turner.

“That’s nothing,” she said, her brilliant teeth beaming their brightness at me, her voice soft like her young glowing skin. “You should have seen the last batch. It was like looking at the face of a jellied corpse.” Her perfectly proportioned breasts bounced as she laughed.

Jellied corpse seemed a valid description of what I was looking at, I thought. My stomach wouldn’t digest a worse vision.

Prisoner X’s skin had mutated into large pus-filled abscesses. As I watched, the skin bubbled and new boils appeared and then burst with a squelch. The vile stench of the mucus, as it ran down the crusty skin and soaked into the now lime green pillow, made me want to vomit. Covering my mouth and turning my head away from the sight, I swallowed the acidic saliva before addressing the stunning Doctor.

“So, what went wrong with this one?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she chirped. “The result is what we expected.”

Her hand touched my shoulder, but it was quickly removed in disgust.

“It’s trial-and-error at this point, but we’ll find a cure.”

The way she used the word cure made my skin crawl. Ugliness wasn’t a disease and who gave them the fucking right to judge?

I would never have classified myself as ugly, but the yellow armband I was forced to wear told me there were others that did. It doesn’t matter that I’m one of the lucky ones; permitted to continue working among perfection. I remained an outcast waiting for my sentencing; beatification or annihilation.

First published on a blog called Bibliophilic Blather.