Welcome to our third week of celebrating the amazing and super talented
In today's post, we'll take a look at the Island Tales, with an excerpt from book #3, a personal story K.C. has chosen to share, and of course there'll be another chance to win down at the bottom of the post.
First up, Waiting For A Prince:
When trainee hairdresser Mark sees Sam for the first time in the salon, it’s lust at first sight. Sam is Mark’s living, breathing fantasy guy. He couldn’t be more perfect. Of course, there’s the tiny, insignificant detail that Sam has a girlfriend. Hell….. A chance meeting on Mark’s favourite beach brings the two men together, and Mark finds himself with a new friend. As they spend more time together, Mark grows to see Sam less as an object for his lust and more as someone who just… fits. But falling in love with your new best friend—especially when he’s straight—is bound to bring heartache in the end.
Sam likes Mark. As in, he really likes him. And he’d like to get to know him even better. But Sam has secrets. There are things going on in his life that he can’t bring himself to tell Mark about, because the shame Sam feels is too much to bear, and not something he ever wants to share with another living soul. And if Mark ever finds out how Sam really feels about him, and the fact that he’s lied to him…. Sam can’t take that chance.
Then one drunken night in the pub changes everything….
Get the book:
Second in this series, September's Tide:
David Hannon hasn’t written a word of his latest detective thriller since he threw out his lover Clark five months ago after he caught Clark cheating on him. So when his agent informs him that he’s about to leave New York to take a little trip to an island off the south coast of England, David is torn. It could be just what he needs—or the vacation from hell. Once he arrives there, David quickly falls in love with the beautiful, tranquil Steephill Cove. The quiet little bay has everything David needs, including the opportunity to get laid regularly, in the gorgeous shape of Taylor Monroe, who runs a water sports equipment hire business. David’s a happy man. He always writes better when there is a plentiful supply of good sex.
When Taylor first meets the Lighthouse’s newest occupant, he can almost hear the click. David is just what Taylor needs—an older, sexy guy who is willing to share his bed, no strings, no promises. At least, that was the plan. As the two men spend more time together, Taylor finds himself growing to like the confident writer more and more. Taylor’s family like him. Taylor’s friends like him. And then there comes the moment when Taylor realizes that maybe it’s no longer a matter of liking David, but something a whole lot stronger.
Unfortunately, his epiphany occurs a little too late, when a visitor to the bay forces Taylor to accept that David might be spoken for. In any case, David is leaving at the end of September—and it looks like he’ll be taking Taylor’s heart with him…
Get the book:
And, so far, third in the series, Submitting To The Darkness:
Three weeks after being diagnosed with acute glaucoma, Adam Kent lost his vision. Two months down the line, and he’s left behind his life in London as an author of political history books and retreated to the Isle of Wight, to live in the house he inherited in Steephill Cove. But that’s not all Adam’s left behind him: the trappings of his life as a Dom are packed away into three boxes and stored in his attic. After all, he’s never going to need them again, right? Who’d want a blind Dom anyway?
Paul Vaughan is employed to be a live-in companion to Adam, but his new employer makes it very clear he wants to be left alone. Paul can see Adam is hurting and struggles to help him, even though Adam resists him at every turn. Thankfully, Paul’s friends Taylor, Mark and Sam are there to lend an ear when he needs to vent – and also to try setting him up with a guy or two. It’s not that Paul doesn’t appreciate their efforts, but the guys they keep sending his way are way too… nice. A chance visit to a club had already shown Paul a side to him he’d never expected: maybe his tastes are a little kinkier.
Two events occur to rock Paul’s life: he discovers his boss isn’t as straight as Paul had thought, and he takes a peek into a box….
“Any sign of it yet?” Adam found it difficult to keep the exasperation from his voice. How long does it take to find one specific box?
“Not yet.” Paul sounded pissed off. “D’you know how many of these boxes I’ve opened this morning? With the way my luck’s going, it’ll turn out to be the last one.” He ground out a heavy sigh.
Adam gripped the doorjamb, fighting the urge to yell that if it was too much trouble, he’d find someone else to do the bloody job. He took a deep breath. Losing his temper wouldn’t get it done any faster.
“Well, what have you found so far?”
“A whole lotta books. I’m trying to move them all to one side. I’m assuming at some stage you’ll want them to go onto shelves?”
Adam clenched his jaw. What’s the fucking point? I can’t read them anymore.
“I mean, there are going to be books I’ll need for reference, right?”
Adam couldn’t argue with Paul’s logic. He had a point, after all. “Yes,” he said grudgingly. He listened to the sound of tearing tape, Paul moving around in the dining room, heavy objects being slid across the floor. Adam decided that hovering in the doorway achieved nothing, and turned to leave Paul to it, but the sudden silence halted him. “Paul?”
No answer. All he could hear was Paul’s breathing, no longer regular but erratic.
“Nothing.” His breathing belied his reply, uneven, the word strained.
Adam racked his brains, trying to think what on earth Paul could have found that would have rendered him into silence.
“I’ve found the box with your laptop and digital recorders, by the way.”
Adam thought that was hardly likely to have brought about such a change. His lips twitched, curling into a smile. He licked his lips. “Did you find my box files?” he said, keeping his tone level.
“Yes, found those.” Paul’s voice was quiet.
“And was there a box with all my DVD’s?”
“Yes, those too. And your DVD player.”
Adam grinned. “And what about the box with my leather wrist restraints?” There was a good deal more than those to be found, but he wanted to hear Paul’s response.
What he got was silence.
His grin widened. “Just testing,” he said under his voice.
Get the book:
How I started writing, by K.C. Wells
One thing I often get asked is, ‘how did you start writing?’
Well, there’s a story to that.
See, I used to teach French and Spanish, did so for twenty-three years, most of those years in Manchester and the last six-and-a-half on the Isle of Wight. When I first started teaching, it really didn’t feel like a job. I loved it. But of course, as the years went by, the nature of the job changed, as did the kids. The last six years were the hardest.
So… going back to 2012 and I was a mess. I’m not going to go into details here, but I was under a lot of stress. I lost half my hair. I wasn’t sleeping. And my doctor told me I had to do something to break out of the cycle I was caught up in. I’d been reading gay romances since 2009, and I’d had the idea for a book bouncing around inside my head since 2011. So in February 2012, I sat down with a piece of paper and fleshed out what was going to be thirteen chapters of a novella. I’d been online to look at Dreamspinner Press’s Submissions guidelines, and I knew I didn’t have a novel in me.
Five-and-a-half weeks later, I had 78,000 words and my first novel, Learning to Love: Michael & Sean. What’s more, halfway through writing it, I knew it was to be the first of a four book series. I sent it off to Dreamspinner, but I didn’t sit around waiting. I got on with book #2.
The day after I clicked on Send, I emailed my dad and step-mother. Dad wrote a book and went through hell trying to get it published before doing it himself. He told me he was proud of me, that it was one thing to want to write a book, but another entirely to sit down and write 78,000 words. He asked me if I had a list of publishers ready, because the odds on getting a positive result from my first choice were very low. I did – about four, actually. When the email offering me a contract arrived six weeks later, May 25th to be exact, I nearly fell through the floor. I forwarded it to my dad with the heading Oh My God.
Dad was now suffering from an acute case of Very Proud Father Syndrome. He and Hache have always been my strongest supporters.
That left me with a tricky task. You see, there was one thing I’d neglected to do – tell the husband I was writing. No, really. He didn’t have a clue. I’d written it when I got home from school, at weekends when he worked around the house, when I should have been sleeping… And now I had to explain why his wife was going to have her first book published in November 2012…
I should explain something here. He did *not* like me reading gay romances. Not one bit.
So I sat him down and explained why I’d started writing. He got that. Then I told him about the book. He was shocked, as you might imagine. I thought he was pleased.
Then he didn’t speak to me for a week. He came around, a little, but he was never entirely happy about it.
2013 changed all that.
I went through a life-changing event which I won’t go into here, except to say that by September 2013 I was no longer teaching and writing full-time. And the hubby? Did a complete 180.
Suddenly there was this supportive man who would come home from work and ask me how many words I’d written that day. Where was my book in Amazon’s ranking?
Fast forward to the present and not much has changed, except he now puts up with his wife disappearing off to the USA about three times a year, as well as Germany, Italy… He puts up with a lot, actually. Skype conversations at odd hours with people in Milwaukee, Boston, California, New York, Ontario, South Africa… He’s gotten to know – and talk to – a lot of those people, and some of them have been – and are coming – to visit us.
He puts up with a dining table that he knows is in there somewhere, it’s just hidden beneath a pile of STUFF. He’s the one who reminds me to ‘get your taxes done!’ He puts up with me wanting to write when he wants me to do the gardening. He puts up with coming home tired (he’s a plumber) and finding dinner might be a little late because I’m on a roll…
And he says he can’t wait for the day when he goes into a customer’s house and sees one of my books on a shelf. THEN, he says, he will point to it and say with pride, ‘My wife wrote that.’
More about K.C. Wells:
Born and raised in the north-west of England, K.C. WELLS always loved writing. Words were important. Full stop. However, when childhood gave way to adulthood, the writing ceased, as life got in the way. K.C. discovered erotic fiction in 2009, when the purchase of a ménage storyline led to the startling discovery that reading about men in love was damn hot. In 2012, arriving at a really low point in life led to the desperate need to do something creative.
An even bigger discovery waited in the wings—writing about men in love was even hotter….
K.C. now writes full-time and is loving every minute of her new career. The laptop still has no idea of what hit it… it only knows that it wants a rest, please. And it now has to get used to the idea that where K.C goes, it goes.
And as for those men in love that she writes about? The list of stories just waiting to be written is getting longer… and longer….
K.C. loves to hear from readers.
Thanks for celebrating with us. Join us again next week for more of K.C.'s books, our Q&A, and one more chance to win!
Until then, happy reading!