Some Write It Hot

February 14, 2011

New Release Back In The Closet by KevaD

Filed under: New Release — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
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Sometimes the best-laid plans don’t mean you get laid.

Chaz and Mike are inaugurating their life together as an openly gay couple. Bliss is inevitable, until a dead relative rises up and brings their plans to a screeching halt.

Chaz’s not-so-dearly departed Amish Uncle Silas has bequeathed his nephew his farm . . . and a $60,000 tax bill if Chaz doesn’t play by the rules.

With empty wallets, the duo and their kitten, TCT, head off for Iowa to live on the farm for ninety days – without electricity or plumbing . . . or sex.

While Mike finds trees to climb, horses to ride, and a big ax to play with, and TCT discovers a wide array of critters to chase and capture, Chaz faces a past veiled in mystery.

As a young boy, Chaz spent time on the farm. Why can’t he remember the giant oak tree or the ancient barn? Each time he tries to enter the barn, terror stops him cold.

Chaz will need courage he’s never had before, along with all the strength in his partner’s lusciously muscled body, to solve the riddles plaguing him. Keeping Mike and his axe from chopping off the wrong piece of lumber might not be a bad idea, either.


“Chaz, it’s a dick, not a birthday candle.” Mike rolled his eyes.

This wasn’t working out at all like I’d thought it would. It had become painfully obvious the best-laid plans didn’t always mean you got laid.
I looked up from between Mike’s muscled thighs. The un-bottled perfume of his heat and pearly drops of natural lubricant hung in the air.

“Then why do they call it a blowjob?”

I certainly didn’t know. I’d bruised myself the first time I tried to beat off. The epiphany – and me – came when I massaged my swollen member to ease the pain.

He flopped his head onto the pillow and rubbed his brow in an attempt to stave off the obvious headache. “I don’t know, man. Why do they call showing somebody your ass, ‘shooting the moon?’ The moon doesn’t have a butt crack through the middle of it.”

The size of the monster in my hands set my tongue on a collision course with my quivering nerves. “Actually, it has nothing to do with the moon. Well, not in the classic idiom of the earth’s singular satellite. The terminology relates to the concept of bringing darkness into the light. The adage purportedly has historical references as far back as Adonis. You see, Adonis, by popular opinion, somewhere along the line became confused, intertwined if you will, with a nonexistent god named Adidas. Thusly, Adidas holds reference to ‘false identify,’ which in turn may, at times, depending on the debate, also mean ‘to bring out the reality of that concealed.’ In layman’s vocabulary, ‘shooting the moon’ is a primitive means of revealing something previously hidden. I can explain it further if it would help?”

His left hand joined his right in massaging his temples. “No. I’ve got it. Thanks.”

A muffled shriek rose from my throat. “You’re losing your erection!”

“Ya think?” Rolling onto his side, he patted the black silk sheets. “Come up here and lay with me.”

Begrudgingly, I obliged him. It was to be our first time. Not just as a couple, but as an openly gay couple. Two virginal homosexuals surrendering our homosexual virginity to each other. A beautiful, life-changing experience, and I’d blown it . . . sort of.

Mike pulled me in close. Even had I wanted to resist, which I didn’t, the strength of the high-rise construction worker wouldn’t have allowed me to. Tall and lean, the man’s muscles had muscles.

His abs weren’t washboard, they were those warning strips the street department puts down to wake up drivers so they don’t cruise through a stop sign. I swear his eyelids could lift as much weight as my spindly arms could. I leaned against telephone poles. Mike climbed them – upside down.

Warm, wet, his lips pressed a kiss onto my throat. My cock responded with a few drops of its own wetness, then shuddered and throbbed when his hand engulfed it.

“Let me show you how it’s done.” The words, throaty, all man, thrust more blood into my erection than I thought it could handle. My testicles tightened when he dotted my chest with kisses, a trail of wanting to my waist.

“Mrrrrowwww. Ssssss.”

The Cat Too. TCT for short. A tuxedo kitten Mike had given me, the traitorous creature had abandoned me for Mike. Sat on his shoulder like a parrot.


I’d put it out of the bedroom. If it was going to throw a hissy fit every time Mike and I made – tried to – make love, we needed another plan.

Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz, bzzz. The doorbell? Great. Just fricking wonderful.

The moment, and my erection, waning, Mike rolled onto his back and sighed. “You get the impression this isn’t supposed to happen today?”
“There’s always tonight.” I whispered, kissed his forehead, then tumbled off the bed. Slipping into gray flannel shorts and a T-shirt, I opened the bedroom door. There stood TCT, back arched, tail perpendicular, eyes focused towards the entrance to our apartment. He hadn’t thrown a fit about us, he’d known before the bell rang somebody was at the door.

“Good, kitty.” I stroked his back. He responded by wrapping his fur ball body around my hand, sank needle-sharp teeth and claws into my skin, then left me bleeding while he bolted through the doorway and scrambled up the covers to lie next to Mike.

My cat. Yeah, right.

Wounded, both in body and spirit, I opened the front door.

“Chaz Westerbrook?” the woman asked – in a baritone voice.

“Yes?” I scoured the face. Nothing about it held any familiarity. Either as a male or female. The orange bouffant looked nice, in a Folies-Bergere sort of way. The Adam’s apple had a point capable of popping balloons. He was tall enough, that’s where my line-of-sight rested.
“Would you autograph this for me? Please?”

In his hand he held a copy of my debut novel, “A Kiss From the Shadows,” the first book of my gay love trilogy. A fan. My chest and ego swelled with pride.

“Certainly.” Taking the novel from him, I asked, “Do you have a pen?”

He unbuttoned the top three buttons of his lavender paisley sundress and pulled a pen out of his black lace bra.

I opened the cover. “Who would you like it to?”

“Jasmine. If you don’t mind?”

His smile was priceless. Really. All of the teeth were capped in gold with diamond insets on the canines. I didn’t want to ask why. He might have told me.

“To Jasmine,” I said aloud. “You will always be in my thoughts. Chaz.” It was true. How could I forget him? His chest was hairier than TCT. I handed the book back to him. “Have you ever considered filling in your cleft? You remind me of a young Kirk Douglas.” I left out the part about a young Kirk Douglas crossbred with King Kong.

“I get that a lot.” He embraced the book to his chest, licked it – yuck – and opened a lime green shoulder bag. “You seeing anyone?” The long-lashed, brown eyes looked a little too hopeful.

“Yeah, snow cone.” The growl came from behind me. “He’s in a relationship, so hit the bricks.”

“Well,” he huffed. “In that case . . . .” The book went in the bag. When he withdrew his hand, a sheaf of papers thumped against my chest.

“You’ve been served.”

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February 7, 2011

Are Book Trailers Effective? by KevaD

Filed under: Writing life — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
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Two years ago The Wall Street Journal asked that very question.

To no one’s surprise, the answer was a resounding ‘probably not’ – “There is scant evidence . . . that the average book trailer actually has much impact on book sales.”

Consider this; you watch a trailer on YouTube and are interested in the book. Can you click on the trailer to buy the book? No. Read the back cover blurb? No. Read an excerpt? No. Click a link to the author or publisher’s web sites and bookstore? No.

In fact, you have to note the title, author, and in many cases, the publisher, in order to locate where the book is available for purchase.

Not to mention… how did you find the trailer on YouTube to start with?

That’s right – you probably didn’t. Unless you linked to it from an author or publisher’s site that provided all the other information anyway. In which case, you no doubt clicked on the trailer for no reason other than to watch it – entertainment.

As yet, there is no credible method of tracking the impact of book trailers on the average consumer. However, publishers and authors are feeling the need to provide trailers to those very potential customers. Because, after all, many trailers are well-done and quite enjoyable to watch.

Which brings us back to the original question – does the trailer aid in your decision as to which book to buy?

That’s what I hope you’ll share with us today. Please leave a comment and tell us if book trailers weigh in your decision about buying a book.

Now I’ll answer one of my own questions. Can a book trailer impact which book you buy or read?

The answer is a resounding “Yes!” But not in the manner you’re thinking.

Book trailers are a marketing tool – another method of getting a product to consumers. Enter the marketing specialists, such as Circle of Seven Productions.

For a set fee, companies like will put an author’s trailer in front of 300+ booksellers and 5,000+ libraries – the primary purchasers of books.

That’s correct. Book trailers have added a whole new chapter to the concept of book catalogs.

Does the book trailer ensure the book is well-written or will sell well? Not any more than spiffy cover art can guarantee sales. But it can catch a bookseller or library purchasing agent’s eye. Catching the client’s attention is still the salesman’s proverbial foot in the door.

By the way, Circle of Seven noted on a blog that links to a site where your book is for sale can be implanted with your trailer: “You can indeed make a live link from YouTube. You need to put the http:// in front of the www. in the description area.”

I haven’t tried it. Nor am I promoting Circle of Seven. I needed information regarding trailer marketing, and I stumbled across Don’t know how effective or efficient they are at what they do.

So, tell us what you think about trailers. And while you’re deep in thought, here’s a trailer I made:

See what else KevaD is up to at his blog

January 10, 2011

Audio Books – Writers, Listen Up! by KevaD

Filed under: Writing life — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
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Audio books were first formally recognized by the federal government in 1931 when Congress established the Books for the Adult Blind Program. The next year, the first talking book was produced. Today, the National Library Service circulates audio books to nearly a million physically impaired listeners.

The format of audio books has changed with technology. From hard discs, to vinyl, to cassettes, to CDs, to digital. In the late 60s most libraries offered audio books on vinyl or cassette. By the late 70s, the popularity expanded within the ranks of the non-impaired due to the decrease in size of cassette players and the convenience of transporting the players, including their installation in cars.

However, during the 80s, a number of major authors refused to allow their novels to be converted, which created a new concept – audio productions based on the books without the use of the actual manuscript. Music, actors and sound effects painted audio movies in the listener’s mind. By the mid-80s, audio books accounted for several billion dollars a year in retail sales. It didn’t take authors and publishers long to realize they were missing out.

The Internet, broadband technologies and advanced forms of playing the books have increased consumer interest, and thusly, sales, even though the price of an audio book exceeds its printed counterpart due to the added cost of a professional reader and production.

Add that the hired readers themselves have opened a whole new category to the concept of the audio book. With recognized names such as actor Will Smith applying their talent and name recognition to the mix, a new class of readers, those who enjoy listening to a particular reader, has emerged. Some buyers listen to books they may not have otherwise purchased had it not been for the fact their favorite reader was hired to record the book.

So now publishers need not only be aware of the growing demand for audio versions of their authors’ works, they also need to bear in mind who it is they hire to record the book.

What does this mean to authors?

When seeking out publishers, writers should be aware whether or not the prospective publisher avails their products to the audio media. It is a fact, audio sells. The author further needs to investigate the quality of the audio books the publisher produces. Are all of the readers unknown? Are the readers professionals, as in an acting troupe or members of an acting guild? Or are they a third cousin who needed a job and used a cassette player to record the book while the latest episode of Deal or No Deal plays in the background?

Writers further need to be aware of language within their contract as to audio rights. Undoubtedly, the royalty percentage will be different than for e-book and print versions of their work. Read that contract. Is the audio percentage based on true sale price? Or is it based on a percentage after production costs have been deducted? There’s a huge difference between 35% of a dollar, and 35% of 55cents after production costs have been deducted (figures are examples only and not deemed to be accurate).

Writers need to do their homework and spend a little time conducting research if they truly desire to break in to the growing audio market.

Find out what else KevaD is thinking

December 6, 2010

Sunday Awakening by KevaD

Filed under: New Release — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
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If the microwave hadn’t blown a fuse, she might not have killed him. But it had, and she did. Sundays are like that sometimes.

After stabbing her keeper to escape his abuse and her sex slave life, Cheryl faces the greatest decision of her twenty-six years: “Now what?” Only one thing has ever brought her comfort and a sense of freedom – – running. So she does.

On her journey to discover who she is, and where she came from, Cheryl happens upon a woman who puts her onboard the modern-day Underground Railroad for abused women.

At each stop, each ‘depot,’ she encounters people who teach her love may not just exist in novels. But is love possible for someone who doesn’t know what it is?

Criminal Investigator Taylor Hughes reluctantly agrees to locate Cheryl and find her “home.” When Cheryl poisons him, Taylor realizes the hardest part of the trip may well be the day he has to leave her behind.


She stripped the bed and tossed the old sheets into the parking lot. A creak of faucet handles preceded the spray of water in the shower. After unfolding and shaking out the new sheets, she listened intently to the muted noise in the bathroom. The walls were tissue paper thin. The beat of the water on the porcelain of the tub stalled when he stepped under it. He was naked.

The image of his sweaty body running beside her – lying beside her, refused to fade. She tucked the edges of the bottom sheet under the sagging mattress and slowly smoothed it with an open palm. The musical resonance of lathering soap floated about the room. There were no washcloths in there. The two Stockard gave her were on the side table. Taylor’s hands were the bow playing the muscled instrument of his body.
Lying on the bed, a hand slipped beneath her shirt, then, massaged sweat-oiled skin under the waistband of her jeans while she continued to listen. Behind closed eyes she watched him scrub from his wonderfully broad chest to the hard slab of belly.

She traced a line from waist to breasts. Barely a B, they had swollen at the sound of him, at the nakedness of him, so near. The tips were erect and over-sensitive.

Heat pulsed beneath her skin. Her tongue wetted dry lips at the thought of his sinewy body so near, so out of reach, yet, reachable, if she chose him to be.

Continuing to explore her body, visions of his strong hands sliding over his manly form under the water and froth performed a mental ballet. A throaty gasp erupted at the slapping of his hands lathering the soap again. Fingers drove under her jeans, then beneath her panties. The basin of the triangle between her thighs thickened with moisture. She wanted this man. The ball of passion rolling from her throat to her groin demanded him.

Fingertips massaged the center of her desire. Hips writhed in response.

She jerked her hand out of her clothing and stood. Her decisions were her own now, and she had met a man she wanted. A smile formed. It hadn’t happened before. There was a man in this motel room she desired. She wanted Taylor Hughes in her, on her, and every way he wanted to have her. He might be gone tomorrow, and this opportunity with him, once he learned the truth. There might only ever be this one night to know what it felt like to make… love… if such a thing held possibility for her.

If it did, she wanted him to be her first. And she wanted him now.

He debated where he’d be sleeping while he washed. She was only feet away on the other side of the wall, and he was having trouble keeping his loins from expressing their wanting for her.

He turned the hot water off. The heat of his skin immunized him to the cold. He couldn’t begin to explain why he felt a hunger for this woman he had just met. It didn’t make any sense at all. Every logical part of his brain said this was wrong.

She needed his help, not his complications. There were things going on inside her he couldn’t fathom, and his mounting longing to taste her might only serve to push her further from herself.

He couldn’t stay in this room tonight. Maybe he’d just sleep in the Jeep.

The clink of the shower curtain rings spun him around. His brain funneled every thought to one—she was the most beautiful and sensuous woman he had ever seen.

“Cheryl, no. I can’t…” His body throbbed its betrayal of his words. A finger to his lips silenced the objection.

She stepped into the tub. “This isn’t about what you want.”

Buy your copy of Sunday Awakening here

November 24, 2010

BookWenches Interview with KevaD

Filed under: Who we are — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
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Good morning, David. Thank you for taking the time to talk to us about you and your work.

Thank you, Bobby. The pleasure is truly mine.

First of all, I have to ask about the troll…and your pen name. What motivated you to write as “KevaD”? And how comfortable is it under those stairs, anyway?

The troll actually came about when I was searching for an avatar for the critiquing group I belong to, ERAuthors. ERA had quite a selection to choose from – all female – not a toothless beggar in the bunch. The troll and I found each other in an orphanage for abandoned avatars. It was drool at first sight.

“KevaD” is a play on my name – Dave K backwards. Out of the Closet was a journey through the looking glass for me, and it seemed fitting at the time.

The space under the stairs is very comfortable. The floor’s oak and the walls are… were painted until KevaD licked them clean. My wife used to send me there every once in a while when I’d been bad. KevaD tossed a couple animal pelts on the floor and he’s been there ever since. I wish I’d known then the “pelts” weren’t dead yet.

Does your writing as KevaD differ from that as DA Kentner? How so?

Originally, not at all. Now I think KevaD has developed a shadow of a life of his own. He’s become a bit of a muse in his own right and questions what I’m doing, where I’m taking a story or character. Unfortunately, since he’s right most of the time, his ego has grown and is insisting I allow him to write a fantasy erotic trilogy. That’s so far out of my past writing styles I wouldn’t consider it. He scribbled the first few pages in crayon the other night. I had to frustratingly agree the project might have merit, as did one of my critiquing buds I sent it to for an opinion. I need to wrap up the second installment of Out of the Closet and SonRise, a WWII novel about four people destroyed by war and how their lives intertwine, eventually becoming a ragtag family. Then we’ll get serious about the trilogy.

The oddball is DA Kentner. I’ve never been “DA” at anytime in my life. I’m Dave or David. Ironically, there is another David Kentner twenty miles from me – no known relation. When The Readers’ Writers was picked up locally by the (Freeport) Journal Standard I thought there might be some confusion, so I signed the column as “DA”. GateHouse decided to nationally distribute the column, and “DA” was etched in stone.

Needless to say, while DA writes for GateHouse News Service and KevaD gets credit, or blame, for my stories, it’s me, David, getting lost in the shuffle, until the bills are due. But it’s okay. My golden retriever doesn’t care who I am, as long she gets fed on time, and my wife has two men and a troll to keep her company.

The truth is, it’s David behind the curtain.

Let’s chat briefly about Out of the Closet. What inspired you to write this story, and what do you want your readers to take away with them having read this story?

Love. The answer is that simply complicated. Love isn’t chained to sex, race, religion, geography, or perceived gender. It acknowledges no boundaries; yet, we don’t always see it before the chance to know real love strolls out of our lives.

Chaz is like so many of us, blindly stumbling his way through life, completely clueless that what he is searching for has been within his grasp the entire time. Fortunately for Chaz, he is granted a second chance to hold onto love with all his might before it escapes him again.

Why romance? And especially, why gay romantic comedy?

Insert heavy sigh here. I’m a true romantic. I honest to God believe in love. Almost every story I have ever written contains a thread of a love story woven in to it. Can’t help myself. The first piece I received minor accolades for was a love story between an alien man and earth woman.

Gay romantic comedy happened because of Ash Penn, the author of the MM novel Stray. Ash is a member of ERA and was looking for help with a scene. I’d never written MM before, but offered my version of the scene. She didn’t use it, but asked if I’d written MM before. I said no. She said I had. It was Ash who got it across to me that what I write about are the emotional strengths of love. I don’t worry about who (human) or what (non-human) is in love.

I decided to give MM a shot. After all, love is love. Chaz and Mike both have traits borrowed from multiple people I have known. I actually knew a man who scaled telephone poles upside down for six packs of beer. I figured if I had a character who did outrageous, nearly unbelievable acts, it better be a comedy or the readers would never believe somebody like Mike could really exist.

As I wrote, I posted the completed chapters on ERA for critiquing. The feedback and suggestions for improvement led me to foolishly believe they actually were enjoying it. Barb Sheridan, another author friend, said I really needed to get that story published.

Fingernails between teeth, I sent the manuscript to four publishers. Two offered contracts.

So, blame the members of ERAuthors for KevaD’s interest in gay romantic comedy. And you can specifically blame author Evanne Lorraine for the MMF scenes in the upcoming fantasy trilogy.

I know that you write several different genres: romantic comedy and suspense to name two. How much of a challenge is it to switch between them?

Weirdly, not much. I’m a character writer. I let the characters tell me how they’ll react to the circumstances I create for them. It’s not unusual for me to have two works in progress like I do right now. Romanian Infantry Corporal Vezirov Kasmerkhov can guide me through the morning, and Chaz and Mike can take the reins in the evening for another chapter or two of their next adventure. During this same time, I wrote the short story “SonSet” (the prequel to SonRise) for inclusion in Evanne Lorraine’s E-book A Scarlet Past due out on Kindle, Nov 19th. It’s a $.99 promotion for her upcoming series.

I find, for me (I don’t recommend it), having two diverse stories going at the same time allows me greater freedom to explore the varied characters.

As an example: I was working on Sunday Awakening, the romantic suspense novel Noble Romance Publishing is releasing Dec 6th (cheap, self-serving plug here), when Chaz and Mike knocked on the door right smack dab in the middle of it. Cheryl and Taylor were driving to New Mexico from Iowa anyway, and they said they wouldn’t mind if I spent some time with the new guys. The end result is a novella and a full-length novel being released three months apart.

But, I couldn’t do any of it if it weren’t for ERAuthors and their invaluable input. That’s a fact.

Tell me a little bit about your column “The Readers Writers” that you write for the Freeport Journal Standard as well as your involvement with

The Readers’ Writers started as a way to thank two authors, Barbara Sheridan and mystery writer Sam Reaves, who were mentoring me when I was on the verge of giving up – throwing in the literary towel. A case of Charmin doesn’t contain as many sheets of paper as my rejection pile. Barb and Sam agreed to be interviewed believing the interviews were only for my new blog I didn’t know what to do with.

I sent the interviews to 63 newspapers as a surprise. I was the one surprised – only my local paper, the Journal Standard was interested. I still suspect the interest was only because of my name–in another life I was the Freeport Chief of Police—and I didn’t want to be paid. Not being paid undoubtedly had a lot to do with it. To all our amazement the readers’ response was tremendous. The JS wanted more. I was only too glad to oblige. We agreed on two interviews a month.

Next thing I knew GateHouse News Service, the parent of the JS, wanted a weekly for national distribution to all their affiliates. We test ran author Poppet’s interview as she is so unique and her personal story is so riveting. Over half the affiliates ran that interview. Now, all of the affiliates run the weekly interviews. That’s over 500 dailies and periodicals with over a hundred of them posting the column to their web sites in addition to the printed run – coast-to-coast.

For the record, I still receive the same pay – nix, nein, nada. I do it to spread the word about the authors gracious enough to allow me an interview. GateHouse does give me a line now at the bottom of the column to advertise my blog and books.

GateHouse runs the interviews edited to meet space limitations – I post the unedited interviews on my blog. So far it’s working out for all involved. But, you never know. is a local Internet news service – a one-man operation – that received some national interest from a story he ran. Keith Bardell (owner/publisher) asked me if I would be willing to do something—anything—to add some content to his news pages. The downside was a 250-word limitation. That excluded the idea of author interviews.

Instead, I suggested we offer authors the 250-words of space to tell about themselves and their latest project. All I do is edit what they submit. Keith does all the work. Surprisingly – this business is full of surprises – we have trouble getting authors willing to invest the time it takes to write their own 250-word blurb. Keith also posts links, pics and trailers if the authors have them to submit. Anybody interested? If so, email me at for more information. I mean, it’s free advertising. Why not? We might even consider a book review site’s blurb… such as, oh… say… BookWenches?

Oh, twist my arm already! (heh) Limiting to 250 words will be tough, but I’m sure we’re up to the challenge.

Tell me a little bit about your writing habits. Are you pretty regimented in terms of when and where and for how long you write, or do you tend write when the muse attacks?

I would love to be regimented. Unfortunately, that’s not life in our house. I write when there’s enough silence around me to drift into my characters’ minds. Sometimes that’s 8 a.m. Sometimes it’s 2 a.m. My computer’s a pc located in the living room. My wife believes the TV was made to run 24-7. Why God created the Soap Channel and the Game Network, I’ll never understand. So, I have to wait until she’s either not home, or asleep. But when my muse attacks with a new story concept, I sit down and hammer out the characters and plot before the damn muse giggles and runs away.

If I ever have the money, it’s a laptop and a room upstairs for me.

Will you share with us the story of your first “sale” for professional publication? How long had you been writing before you pursued publication?

I’d been writing for several months after a thirty-eight year hiatus. Initially I thought I was destined to be an English teacher. Life disagreed. I ended up in the Army. Part of my job was assisting the Secret Service and State Department in the personal protection of the President, Vice President and Secretary of State. When I eventually decided to return to civilian life, law enforcement seemed the natural route to follow.

This is a long way to answer your question, but it’s part of that first published piece.

I wasn’t getting anywhere as far as being published. Then I read a book review that I actually had to haul out a dictionary and French translation program to decipher. I thought it the most ridiculous article of self-absorption I’d ever wasted my time on. Cue the muse.

The muse whispered I should combine several of my experiences with that book review. In hindsight, the short story wasn’t very well written. But Daniel Sawyer and Faraway Journal loved it and published it. I’ll always be grateful to Daniel for that first opportunity.

What is your goal as a writer? Have you reached it yet?

Thank the Lord I haven’t reached my goal, which is to write until I can’t write any more.

What do you think makes for a great work of fiction? How do you instill that into your work?

For me it’s characterization. Give me a character, good or evil, I believe in, and I’m your willing captive to the very end. I need to take that ride with them, win or lose. That’s what I strive for in everything I write. If you really want to wound me, tell me my characters suck.

In SonRise I wrote a character I wanted to be as evil as I could possibly create. ERAuthor member Debbie Vaughan emailed me that character “…needs to die. He needs to die very soon.”

I smiled.

Will you give us a peek at what you’re working on right now? What can your readers expect from you in the not-too-distant future?

I touched on these earlier. Chaz and Mike’s next adventure is nearing completion. If it’s published, and “if” readers enjoy it, a third installment is already plotted out for them.

SonRise is my biggest challenge to date. The novel is actually completed and I’m in revisions and rewrites before I try to find it a home. But it’s literary fiction, not romance, though the two love stories in it are front and center and critical to the story. I’m more than a little nervous about finding a publisher for it.

As writers, I believe we all put a piece of our hearts into our prose. SonRise contains a piece of my soul.

When those two are polished off, I’ll start the erotic fantasy trilogy and pull a romance novel back out of the virtual drawer I stuck it in. It’s another completed novel in need of rewrites and revisions that would be a nice working counter-balance to the trilogy. I have eight such completed novels in “drawers”.

Tell me a little bit about DA Kentner the person. What do you do when you’re not shackled to the keyboard? Do you have a profession outside of writing? Do you have kids, hobbies, man-eating cats?

I have a business. I buy junk and sell antiques. But the economy has pretty much tanked sales, so I don’t spend near the time with it I used to. It’s hard to get excited about dealing with people who offer me half of the tagged price when my mark-up was only 30% to start with. No, I don’t tend to smile at offers of a 20% loss.

My two sons are grown and gone. It’s just my wife and I, our Golden Retriever who’s allergic to wood, and our tripod cat. Yup. Out of the Closet’s The Cat personified. He has a habit of gently touching a person when he wants their attention. If they ignore him, he’s all fur and claws on his way through their clothing to their skin. He has two levels of attitude; chill and kill.

My love of writing is also my passion. When I’m lost in my characters or interviewing an author, I’m happier than I could ever be with a hobby.

What do you think the future has in store for the world of publishing? Do you think electronic publishing will ever supplant print? Do you believe that small indie publishers are a fad, or do you think that they are here to stay?

Small Indie Press is definitely here to stay, and we should all be grateful for it. Writers and readers alike stand to gain from small Indie press – quality at affordable prices. I did an interview with author/publisher Nelson Ottenhausen where I touch on that.

Do I believe electronic will supplant print? Yes, but not in my lifetime.

The saddest loss of printed books will be the child or grandchild on your lap, sharing that book and the memory of it with you, reveling in the excitement of the pictures, turning the pages.

Many claim print will never disappear. I’d like to join that chorus, but I don’t think it’s reality.

We as a civilization are currently fostering the first generation introduced to non-print schoolbooks. Their textbooks are on Kindles. This concept will expand to all school systems. Consider the logic involved here. If you are raised without printed books, you carry dozens of books in a device no larger than a notebook and can interchange them at will, at the touch of your finger on the screen, how attractive is a ten-pound stack of books you need to buy bookshelves for? Fact: The majority of people don’t buy maps and atlases anymore – we have a GPS and MapQuest.

Originally stone tablets were the “books” of the time. Leather replaced stone. Rice and fiber paper replaced leather. Pulp replaced rice and fiber. I’m sure somewhere in there were folks claiming none of those could ever be replaced.

Hand carving was replaced by hand-written ink. Hand-written was replaced by the hand-operated printing press, replaced by the electric and gas-powered printing presses, replaced by digital press that put lots of people out of work. Newspapers are folding left and right due to the Internet. The newspapers still printed utilize computers to create and print them from electronically produced printing sheets – no typesetting.

Evolution is inevitable. Books, and the means producing them, have evolved right along with everything else. To see the future, we need only look at the past.

Please let us know how we can find out more about you and your writing – websites, blogspots, etc. How can we go about purchasing your work?

Visit for author interviews, for the more personal updates of what KevaD’s up to.

Check out BookWenches for more author interviews and book reviews.

Both those sites have links to Noble Romance Publishing and for my published novels and novellas. Okay. For Out of the Closet. Sunday Awakening isn’t available until December 6th.

Finally, what have I forgotten to ask? Is there anything else that you would like to share with us?

You have been so kind and gracious to me, all I can say is thank you so much for allowing me this time.

This interview is posted with the BookWenches’ permission. The original interview may be read here

October 29, 2010

An Era Halloween By KevaD

Filed under: Free read,Who we are — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
Tags: , , ,

Ali Katz opened the door, a wry grin playing at one corner of her strategically painted lips. “Good evening, Domme Evanne.”

Evanne Lorraine, clad in black latex, an orchid stapled to her vest, disdainfully surveyed the
room before responding. “Domme Ali. Has the new submissive arrived?”

“I’m afraid not,” Amber Green interjected, handing Evanne a freshly iced glass of lemonade.

“The novice failed to arrive at the established hour.” Wickedly, a brow rose, a hint to her anticipation. “We could dispatch a reminder.”

Lifting her creamy white chin, Ali uttered the one name none in attendance dared speak but her. “Cher.”

From the far corner of the room, Cherise Sinclair righted herself to full erection. “How may I be of service, Domme Ali?”

Behind her, now visible, Ash Penn stroked the hair of DH Starr, then, checked the leather straps at his wrists securely bound to ‘O’ rings bolted into the wall. “See, Doug? It’s mind over matter. Once the body is captured, the mind simply doesn’t matter.”

Lauren Fraser seized the opportunity and butted up against the man’s ass, twisting her lithe body around him like a python.

“But, I’m gay,” he sputtered.

“Oh, relax, silly. I’m not going to take your clothes off. I just need to know if it’s possible to do a rear entry and lick a nipple at the same time.”

“Maybe if you slipped under him and hung there like baby possums do on their mothers,” offered Elaina Lee. “I think Gillian wrote a scene like that once.”

Gillian Archer pranced over to the threesome, her interest undulating. She dropped to her knees and ran a practiced hand along Doug’s torso. “Not enough room. You’re too tall for him. You’d be flat on your back.”

Stella Price called out from a barstool at the kitchen counter. “I don’t mind my women on their back. There’s still an audience for missionary.”

A nudge to her ribs cut off her ejaculation. “A little oral’s a good thing. Too much and the client thinks that’s all you can do.” Jenika Snow returned to sliding her fingers up and down the straw in her daiquiri. “You think I can get the drink to come to me without sucking if I do this long enough?”

Charles stared blindly at her; his face flushed, then, he quickly dialed the number of his fiancée. “Cancel the movie. Cancel the popcorn. But keep the butter handy.”
Near the back door Linda LaRoque, with virginal nervousness, muttered. “I know we just joined this bunch. But if we leave now, do you think we can keep our morality intact?”

A deep-throat pulse of self-induced pleasure erupted from Shaw Carey. “I hope not.”

“Oooh.” The sound, more heated passion than word, floated from Keta Diablo next to them. “Now that’s hot.”

Linda and Shaw’s unexplored arousal perked.

Cross-legged on the floor, Christopher diligently typed on a laptop.

“Is he working on a story?” Linda asked.

“Noo.” Keta’s hand slipped to her waistband, then lower. “Marketing strategies.”

On the sofa, Judith Leger glanced to her left at Jadette Paige, the other half of her Siamese twin costume. “What would you call a position where you lie prone on a man’s back, and stick your face between his legs?”

“Stupid.” A throaty growl slithered from Jadette’s lips.

Judith scrunched her nose. “What’s that pounding?”

Jadette’s mouth pursed. “William Neale. I locked him in the bathroom.”


“Yesterday.” She flopped her feet up on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Ow.” KevaD turned his head and glared at the duo. “Did you have to wear spurs for chrissakes?”

“Silence, sub.” Cate Chase stepped on his fingers as she strode past. “You’re a table. Don’t forget that. Tables don’t speak.”

Ellie Heller knelt, a steaming round pan in her hands. “Would you like some of my succulent pie, KevaD?”

He flashed a wanting grin. “Sure. Love a piece of your pie anytime.”

She set the burning pan on his shirtless back and walked away. “There you go. Enjoy.”

Standing behind the sofa, Lillian Grant suckled an oyster from its shell. “That was cold, doll.”

Carol licked the glistening juice from the tip of the hardened casing. “This is my first time.”

“You’d never know it. You always swallow?” Lillian kept her tone polite.

“I meant my first time at an ERA soirée. Not cleaning the juice from something hard I just had in my mouth.”

Lillian looked around the room. “Kinda weird being the only two from down under, don’t ya’ think?”

“I don’t know. I think a few folks here have been down and under more than once.”

“I’m talking about Australia.”

“Oh. Are you an Aussie, too?” Carol asked.

“Didn’t the accent give you a hint?”

“I don’t think you have an accent. They all do, but I hadn’t noticed anything odd about you except the way you keep taking notes.”

“Not notes. I’m an accountant by day. I’m keeping track of how many oysters you chuck down before you upchuck.”

“Who’s that in the black robe and mortar cap?” Carol, new, hadn’t met everyone yet.

“Kimberely. She just got her masters degree. Besides writing, she loves to fish.”

“No. Oh no. Please. Don’t.” Carol cringed.

“Yup. Now she’s a master baiter.”

Ali’s voice silenced the room. “We need your special services, Cher.”

Cherise scurried across the plank flooring. “How may I serve thee, Domme Ali, Domme Evanne, and Domme Amber?”

“The new sub has failed to obey our instructions. We require the upstart be brought before us.”

She turned, her voice edgy, sharp. “Debbie. Jerri.”

Jerri Drennen and Debbie Vaughan bolted to her side.

“Retrieve the insubordinate one.”

Debbie reached behind her back, produced a matte black Glock 45caliber pistol, and quickly jacked a round into the chamber. Jerri snagged a stun gun from her waistband and promptly slapped the tip against Debbie’s arm. She twitched all the way to the floor.

“What the fu…?” Debbie scrubbed her face with her free hand, pointed the Glock at Jerri’s crotch with the other. “Five seconds and I pull the trigger.”

“I had to make sure the batteries still work. They’re from an old vibrator.” Jerri held out a hand and pulled Debbie to her feet.

Debbie scowled at Jerri before addressing Cherise. “What does the ignorant one look like, Cherise?”

Barbara Sheridan yanked a black drape from the wall. “Here. On the other side of the glass. The one seated at the keyboard, daring to look in at us, a voyeur believing safety exists beyond our imagination.”

Jerri and Debbie’s faces contorted to leering smiles, their perverse glee visible to me through the computer screen.

The armed duo walked towards me. “Thy will be done.”

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