FIVE DAYS – The Keepers Are Coming 🐘🗡️🖤

So…ummm…yeah…

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FIVE DAYS from now I have a dark sexy book coming out from St Martin’s Press called DUTCH. It’s about a deadly assassin and his target with nine lives. He must end each of them, she’s not going to make it easy. Mostly because she is smart and funny and sexy af and every time their paths cross, she leaves his head spinning.

And we all know spinning heads make for not-so-focused assassins.

Which is not exactly the plot, but maybe kind of is. I’m giving away nothing – you just need to grab a copy and get lost for a bit in the magic that is Dutch and Juma. Then you’ll be able to decided for yourself whether that is actually the plot or I’m just fucking with you.

And because I’m nice, here are some pre-order links for your convenience:

HERE for Amazon
HERE for Kobo
HERE for B&N
HERE for iBooks
HERE for Google Play

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 the Keepers are coming

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Daybreak Rising Cover Reveal!

I spoke about Daybreak Rising quite a bit on my other blog, and when Kiran contacted me about posting a cover reveal for it, I was super excited. I was lucky enough to receive and ARC (yes, I’m teasing you guys) and can’t wait to dive into it.  Normally, since Daybreak is mostly fantasy, I’d post on my other blog, but this morning I woke up to website shenanigans (curses). Still, that’s not going to stop me from sharing!

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On September 21, 2016, the F/F fantasy DAYBREAK RISING will be arriving to an e-readers near you from Torquere Press! Today, we get a first look at the amazing cover, designed by the amazing artist Kris Norris over at Torquere.

Here’s a bit about DAYBREAK RISING:

22-year-old Celosia Brennan spent sixteen years being raised as the heroine her nation needed. A dual-touched Elementalist with both the power to conjure fire and see glimpses of her future, Celosia was the best hope at overthrowing the oppressive Council in a mission called Daybreak, an attempt to secure justice for the massacre of her people and so many others. There’s just one problem: she couldn’t. Celosia broke down after realizing the enormity of her task, and is struggling to make things right while the blood of her fellows stains her hands.

Now branded a failure, Celosia desperately volunteers for the next mission: taking down the corrupt Council with a team of her fellow elementally-gifted mages. Leading the Ember Operative gives Celosia her last hope at redemption. They seek to overthrow the Council once and for all, this time bringing the fight to Valeria, the largest city under the Council’s iron grip. But Celosia’s new teammates don’t trust her—all except for a powerful ice Elementalist named Ianthe who believes in second chances.

With Council spies, uncontrolled magic, and the distraction of unexpected love, Celosia will have to win the trust of her teammates and push her abilities to the breaking point to complete the Ember Operative. Except if she falters this time, there won’t be any Elementalists left to stop the Council from taking over not only her country, but their entire world.

So here it is…The moment we’ve been waiting for…

You can add DAYBREAK RISING to your GoodReads TBR shelf today, and pre-orders should be live from Torquere soon! Be sure to sign up to Torquere Press’s newsletter to be the first to know when DAYBREAK RISING is available for pre-order.

About the author:

Kiran Oliver is a Southern New Hampshire University graduate having majored in Communication with a PR focus. He currently attends Free Code Camp in the hope of earning a certificate in Full Stack Web Development while working as a freelance technology journalist. When he’s not writing for work, he’s creating novels such as DAYBREAK RISING for fun.

When not daydreaming about lesbian pirates, queer lady paladins, or dragons, Kiran can be found at the gym or playing MMOs. He resides in New Zealand with his wife Elizabeth, their cat, Ember, and soon to be a puppy named Zephyr.

Find Kiran on social media:

Twitter – @coliver_writes
GoodReads –
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14011102.C_K_Oliver
Facebook –
https://www.facebook.com/authorCKOliver

Con Artists, Scandal, and Bribes, Oh My! San Francisco Book Review

Hey, guys! It’s been a while. I’ve been working on the fifth and final book in The Outsider Chronicles, and I’ve had quite an adventure this past week. Adventures of the scammy sort.

I was a freelance review for San Francisco Book Review and had an awful experience with the company’s owner Heidi Komlofske-Rojek, who refused to pay me, citing financial difficulties, yet somehow had the funds to go on vacation.

You can read the full story HERE

But wait, there’s more.

After finally getting compensated for my time and hard work, Heidi Komlofske-Rojek attempted to bully me into modifying my statements and wanted me to lie about my transactions with the company.

It’s funny that a book review site would handle a negative review so badly. Things that make you go hmmm.

You can find my update HERE

If you, and anyone you know has had any interactions with this company or Heidi Komlofske-Rojek in the past, I heartily encourage you to step forward. As long as we remain silent, freelancers and authors will continue to be robbed.

#WriteBitch

#SFBRScam

#Poesia – BREATHE

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BREATHE

Once upon a time
she buzzed past
faster than light
tightly wound
crazed
He saw her flame
reached out
twined his fingers in hers
and smiled
Breathe he whispered
and she did
slow deep indulgent
filling her lungs to capacity
exhaling in relief
Because sometimes
one word is all it takes


These #Poesia pieces on this blog and Madhuri Blaylock Writes are works of fiction, erupting from my incredibly over-active imagination. They are often unedited and unscripted, spontaneous, super loose and probably some of my favorite works. They are perfect in their imperfections and I hope you enjoy.

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#Poesia – ME

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ME

I am the wind
on a hot summer day
at the beach
That breeze
off the ocean
the one that kisses you
just there
cooling your sweat-soaked
suntanned skin
leaving you refreshed
but wanting a little more

A little more cool
a little more kiss
a little more oomph
That’s me

Under your dress
up the backs of your thighs
between your legs
teasing all the spots
that like to be teased
and touched
You lean back in your chair
eyes closed
lips parted
legs spread
just
a
little
wider

A little more cool
a little more kiss
a little more oomph
That’s me

The hiss
rolling in
with the tide
whispering in your ear
my laughter
a mixture of roar
and surf and sand
ruffling your hair
kissing your neck
as if
I can read
your innermost
thoughts and desires

A little more cool
a little more kiss
a little more oomph
That’s me


The #Poesia pieces on this blog and Madhuri Blaylock Writes are works of fiction, erupting from my incredibly over-active imagination. This one happens to be inspired by my writing group, The Inky Path, and a prompt about the weather. These works are often unedited and unscripted, spontaneous, super loose and probably some of my favorite works. They are perfect in their imperfections and I hope you enjoy.

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#Poesia -MINE AND YOURS

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MINE AND YOURS

I have a bright smile
but a heart of darkness
and it beats
every cold
hard
rhythmic burst
for you
and you alone


As always, these #Poesia pieces on this blog and Write Bitches are works of fiction, erupting from my incredibly over-active imagination. This piece in particular is inspired by an exercise for my writing group, The Inky Path. These #Poesia pieces are unedited and unscripted, super loose and probably some of my favorite works. They are perfect in their imperfections and I hope you enjoy.

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#WednesdayFreeWrite – SOLITUDE

SOLITUDE

SOLITUDE

It is in
the solitude of our togetherness
that I am able
to touch your soul
hear your heart
kiss your mind

the quiet
wraps itself around us
cocooned in a blanket
of arms
legs
lips
skin

and in those moments
when your breath
leaves lines of heat
along the curves
of my being
your fingers trace
circles of desire
around my breasts
your tongue tastes
the sweetness
of my need
I feel craved
alive
awake

It is in
the solitude of our togetherness
that I am able
to admit my shortcomings and insecurities
frustrations
fears

You hear them
ponder my words
then insist otherwise
because you see me
in ways
I cannot fathom
and would hardly admit

Strength of character
beauty beyond belief
wisdom and wit
commingled
and conjugated
inseparable
different parts
making the whole me
you see
touch
love

It is in
the solitude of our togetherness
that I am able
to read you a poem
laugh at a joke
cry in despair

the comfort
of your presence
both shocks
and soothes me
your smile
laugh
breath

Everything that is you
speaks to me
in silence
and wonder
everything that is me
speaks to you
in quiet
and awe
“You are not like the others”
you whisper
and I smile
“No, I am not”

It is in
the solitude of our togetherness
that I am able
to breathe again
and you are able
to learn
live
love


My #WednesdayFreeWrite series is based on what I write during the 10 minutes allotted my writing group’s Wednesday Prompt. As always, these pieces are works of fiction, erupting from my incredibly over-active imagination. They are unedited and unscripted, super loose and probably my favorite ten minutes of the week. They are perfect in their imperfections and I hope you enjoy.

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#WednesdayFreeWrite – MAGIC TOUCH

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MAGIC TOUCH

There have been many
in my bed
on my body
trying to capture my soul
but none like him

He is magic
All of him
And he wraps me
In his web of wonder
Every time our paths cross

“I’ll come down”
and before I know it
his warmth is at my side
his gaze that fills me with lust
his smile that charms

“Hi”
and I smile
because I know
he is going to lean close
touch my face
and kiss me
soft
a brush
that leaves me
lips parted
and breathless

“Hi”
I reply
eyes closed
mouth curved in delight

He takes my hand
and we’re headed upstairs
chatting about our days
our meetings
our lives not lived in each other’s presence

Until we’re not

And I’m pressed against the wall
his rough kiss at my throat
his hands on my face
his everything against me
immobile
craved
owned

“God, your skin”
he breathes against my curves
as his lips touch and tease
all my spots
he has painstakingly discovered
as my clothes disappear
until all that’s left
is a damp slip of silk
between my thighs

“These are fucking sexy”
he smirks
as his fingers move
over my panties
his gaze never leaving mine
his eyes full of heat and mischief
“and totally worthless”
as he rips them off
tosses them aside
and touches me
soft
soft
softer

“Don’t stop”
I beg
but he doesn’t listen
and flips me around
to face the wall
while he kisses my neck
traces heat down my spine
cups my behind
and I feel him smile into my skin
“Your ass is a crime”

But what he doesn’t understand
will never know
because I will never tell
is that everything
about him
is criminal

The way he smiles
laughs
fucks
speaks
snorts
stares
touches
moans
whispers

The way he challenges
listens
encourages
teases
taunts
torments
loves
absolves
trusts

He is MAGIC
that has somehow
in this big city
of faceless millions
crossed my path
made my acquaintance
seduced my mind
then charmed off my panties
and fucked me blind

His TOUCH
makes my breath catch
my nipples hard
my pussy drip
and gets my world
spinning so fast
I can only close my eyes
and let him do his thing
(and holy shit
can he do his thing)

But I will never
whisper such truths
into his ear
breathe such intimacies
into his skin
kiss such affections
into his soul

I will hold them
for myself
if only
to hold onto
all of his MAGIC
and every single TOUCH
a little longer


My #WednesdayFreeWrite series is based on what I write during the 10 minutes allotted my writing group’s Wednesday Prompt. As always, these pieces are works of fiction, erupting from my incredibly over-active imagination. They are unedited and unscripted, super loose and probably my favorite ten minutes of the week. They are perfect in their imperfections and I hope you enjoy.

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#TeaserTuesday – AMAL

I posted a little of AMAL, my love story without a title but with a character with a great name, on my blog over at Madhuri Blaylock Writes a while back. It’s my first time writing a regular romance and even though the story has been bouncing around in my head for a hot second, the thought to actually write it down has not. Mostly because I’m a girl who loves her raunch with some magic, but Amal and her men are kind of fun and all kinds of dirty, so as long as they demand my attention, I’m going with the flow and writing their story.

Anyway, I figure today is as good a day as any to share a little more of Amal, Jackson, and Andrew…enjoy.


I saw her long before she saw me, mostly because I was looking, completely incapable of casting my glance anywhere but the door every time it opened. Dax was right, even from across the room, Jackson was a force to be reckoned with, stealing the show the minute he and Amal crossed the threshold. But she was just as brilliant, possibly even more so in her slight hesitance and discomfort with the introductions and salutations. She smiled and laughed and charmed everyone Jackson knew, but here and there her jaw would clench or she would glance around as if somewhat bored by the fuss and in those moments, I knew she was here, at this party, by his side, for him and him alone. That she loved Jackson so much she willingly slogged through the inanity of the bourgeousie because it mattered to him.

I wondered if he knew what a lucky fuck he was?

Maybe he did, but most likely he was past the point of such ruminations. I did my research, Amal and Jackson had been a couple for more than three years, with some slight breaks here and there, but always coming back to one another. So yeah, I’m sure once upon a time he viewed her through the same prism as I, but based upon his body language with the attractive older woman who couldn’t stop touching him and fawning over every word he uttered, I gathered Amal was no longer the center of his everything. Not that Jackson didn’t love her, but he probably loved himself a little more.

Just my two cents.

“Has no one ever told you it’s incredibly rude to gawk at another man’s woman?”

Laughter and a smack on the back brought me face-to-face with one of my oldest friends, Philippe Narcisse, Afro-French beautiful bastard but for the gash running down the side of his face, care of a terrible childhood car accident. We met during a skateboard camp in London the summer we turned twelve and had been thick as thieves ever since. While I was busy learning the ropes at Maynard Brothers, he was running one of the most successful custom tailors in the city. Bespoke was that motherfucker’s middle name.

“Fuck you,” I tossed back the remains of my whiskey and set the glass down on the bar.

“You mean fuck her,” Philippe laughed and ordered a scotch, “and if you don’t, goddamn, I will.”

I raised a brow and shot him a look.

“You’re taken,” I informed as I brought another whiskey to my lips, “and last time I checked, so is she.”

“Yes, yes, so I’ve heard a million times since she walked into the room,” Philippe cast a glance Amal’s way, his eyes resting on her ass because seriously, how could they not, “apparently, she doesn’t do these things. Ever. But she’s here tonight and for some reason it’s a big, fucking deal.”

Philippe laughed mischievously before adding, “I don’t care why she’s here, I’m just glad she is because fuuuuuuck, that ass makes me think some wicked shit. I’m not even an ass man and she’s got me wanting to put my face all up in her shit.”

“All right, all right,” I glared at my friend and he grinned.

“I knew it, Maynard,” Philippe tossed his head in Amal’s direction, “spit it out. I know you, motherfucker, and I know you know her.”

“I don’t know her any more than you do.”

“You cannot bullshit a bullshitter,” Philippe raised a brow in my direction, “I want the story, with all the juicy bits, like how that ass feels when you’ve got your hands all over it.”

“Fucking christ, man,” I shot back, “back off.”

Philippe leaned back on his heels, studied me for a second, then burst into deep peals of laughter, so loud several heads at the bar turned our way, curious as to his amusement. I tossed back my whiskey and ordered another, amusing my friend even further. He smacked me on the back again and kissed my cheek, long and loud and sloppy.

“Come on, man,” I pushed him off me, “control yourself.”

“I believe one Amal Naipaul has gotten under the skin of New York City’s most eligible bachelor,” Philippe grinned, “so as much as it pains me, in respect to you and because I love you like a brother, I shall cease making filthy cracks about her splendid ass.”

“I’m certain the very lovely Sylvie, who last time I checked is your very devoted and stunning girlfriend, would love to hear all the filth escaping your lips concerning a certain derriere.”

Philippe stole another glance at Amal and sucked in his breath, “mais oui, Sylvie would love to hear it and then join in my admiration, being the ass woman that she is.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. He was incorrigible.

“For the record, her name is Amal Warrier Naipaul,” I tipped my drink in his direction and smirked, “and she is the most stunning woman ever created.”

Philippe let my words sink in for a second, took a sip of his drink, and shook his head while shaking a warning finger in my face. I pushed his hand away and waited for whatever advice I knew my friend could not help dispensing.

“Did you fuck her, Andrew?”

“Nah, man,” I shook my head, “not at all.”

He squinted his eyes and waited, as if by doing so he could tell whether or not I was being truthful. “Did you think about fucking her?”

“The second I saw her and every second afterwards,” I admitted to him and myself, “until I learned of Jackson. And then I forgot her.”

“Now you’re lying, Maynard,” Philippe squeezed my shoulder affectionately, “no one forgets an ass like that. But if you didn’t fuck her, what’d you do? Dinner? Drinks? Spill it.”

“Just a chat, and if I’m being honest, it probably didn’t last longer than five minutes.”

“Longest five fucking minutes of your life, my friend,” Philippe noted, “that much’s written all over your face.”

I started to protest when long, lean, arms circled my waist and warm lips pressed to my neck. Sylvie. Only Sylvie could make the simplest hello so goddamned sexy.

Mon cher,” she whispered in my ear as she ran a perfectly manicured hand down Philipp’s arm, “my two sexies…the things we could do together,” she whispered as she slipped between us and settled herself onto Philippe’s lap. He pulled her close and sucked on her ear while Sylvie practically purred in delight. It was sensual and endearing and so very Philippe and Sylvie.

“Get a room,” I groused.

“With Amal’s name on it? Happily,” Philippe joked and immediately pricked Sylvie’s interest, something I knew he intended.

“Amal?” Sylvie’s eyes widened as she played with the rim of her champagne flute, “as in Naipaul? As in Doctors for Hope?”

“As in Jackson Davis’s girlfriend,” Philippe added with a laugh.

Sylvie rolled her eyes as she kissed his cheek, “ignore him, Andrew, he’s a horrible gossip and probably loves the fact you haven’t been able to take your eyes off that woman all night.”

And now it was Sylvie’s turn to look rather impish and incorrigible.

“Fuck both of you,” and they laughed as Sylvie pulled me close for a kiss.

“She is lovely and her behind has me captivated,” Sylvie whispered in my ear, “but she is very taken and he is very tall and incredibly strong and impossibly fuckable. Just please watch your heart,” and she kissed me again before leaning back into Philippe’s embrace.

I touched her furrowed brow as if to smooth it out and smiled, “you have nothing to worry about, Sylvie. My heart is as cold and dead as ever.”


It’s raw and needs some serious editing, but it’s getting there. I love Philippe, just haven’t decided how large a role he’ll play. The way I do things, those kind of details work themselves out as the story progresses, so we shall see. Fingers crossed for Mr. Narcisse.

Also, Andrew is totally David Gandy, mostly because this is my story and Andrew is my character and god, if I don’t LOVE me some David Gandy. Don’t even try and act like you mind…you know you don’t.

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Thanks for reading.

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