N-N-N-N-NaNoWriMo!

Oh, November, how I've yearned for you!

To writers the world wide, November can mean only one thing - National Novel Writing Month. The full name is a little misleading now, of course, for it's a concept that's caught fire and hooked the imaginations of aspiring novelists far outside of America. Nonetheless, I've been eagerly awaiting November 1st since the spark of this story first came to me in a hot summer night's dream.

Triumvirate is the first book of a trilogy (books 2 and 3 have the working titles of 'Descent' and 'Redemption'). It's a darkly paranormal romance, winding its way through Eastern European mythology towards the fires of Hell itself, and it's been absolutely consuming me since I started writing it; providing a very welcome relief from all the dramas of real-life.

With my eternal companions of coffee, cigarettes, Tom Waits and Butch Walker, 26,000 words of the required 50,000 are already down on the page - of course, I anticipate Triumvirate will be something in the 75-80k region when it's a complete working draft, but it's gratifying nonetheless to be more than halfway towards the target already.

Indulge me in sharing with you a little teaser from Chapter One...

Fighting the urge to arch her back and revel in his sinfully pleasurable touch as his fingers soothed away the tension in her stiffly held neck, Alex nodded and forced her face to harden. “I still don’t know how you know my names. Clever words mean nothing to me - I want the damned truth.”

“The damned truth? So be it then, Alex. We know your names, as do all those who reside in Hell, because we witnessed your conception and birth. Your father named you at the moment of your birth and your mother’s death; and your name has been sung by the demons of Hell ever since.”

Ignoring the impossible for the moment, for Vazaroth’s talk of Hell could be nothing but that, Alex’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Brendan? He didn’t name me - he and Grandfather told me that my mother chose my names.”

“That is a lie that your grandfather propagated; and Alex, your father is not Brendan Byrne -”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous?!” A darkening storm of rage descended upon Vazaroth’s face, sending another shiver of ice shards through Alex’s veins. “Alex, I am many things, but I am not ridiculous; you will not speak to me so! As I was saying; your father is as we are, and his name is Deures -”

“Please, stop!” Alex pulled away from him as his fist tightened around her shirt, threatening to rip it open. Afraid of the forceful compulsion that had arisen in her to aid him in his obvious intentions, she choked back a loud sob. “I don’t understand! Who - what are you?!”

Her low, fearful moan seemed to give them pain, for their faces seemed to contort in unison before Rauzel drew a deep breath and spoke. “We are incubi, demons from the realm of Hell - and we have come to claim that which is ours.”

You can find me on the NaNoWriMo site - Kate Monroe - and I'd love to hear from you all either there or here to find out what you're writing and how easily (or not!) the words are flowing.

Kate x

PS. I was ill over Halloween (not an over-indulgence of red wine and chocolates, I swear!) so I shamefully neglected to make any mention of the fact that 'Kiss Of An Angel' is out now to buy on Amazon and Smashwords, nor to thank the awesome Amelia James for hosting me on her blog during the week of release. Go and check them both out! ;p

Teaser for 'Kiss Of An Angel'

Guys, girls and ghouls, it's finally October! You know what that means - Halloween is coming, and with it the launch of my new novella, 'Kiss Of An Angel'. True to both the season and my nature, it's a paranormal erotica, and this time I've ventured into the world of polyamory. I'm getting hot and steamy again just thinking about it!


There's a little teaser below, and I'll be guesting on Amelia James's (@TrashyWriter) blog at the end of the month with another excerpt to titillate you all. For now, though, enjoy!

***

Shannon hesitated for a moment, but she felt an irresistible pull towards the dark and forbidding house. Of their own accord, her feet were moving down the path, and as if in a dream, she lifted the heavy brass knocker and let it fall back against the door.

She held her breath as she waited for it to be opened from within. After what seemed an interminable wait, it opened by the smallest of margins. “Trick or treat?” Shannon’s voice trembled, and a wave of heat flooded her body despite the wind that was whipping around her.

“Trick or treat?” The voice that echoed her words was low, deep, and undoubtedly masculine. It rippled through her like an intimate caress. “My lovely, surely a beautiful young woman like you is old enough to play a more adult game than trick or treat!”

“Oh, not me, the child –“ Shannon began, a burning flush inflaming her pale face with his words. She trailed off abruptly when she looked down and realised that Emily was no longer next to her.

The door finally opened to its full extent as she fell silent, revealing the speaker to her gaze as his eyes raked slowly over every dip and curve of Shannon’s body. A low tremor somewhere in her core caused her to moisten her lips nervously, for she found herself wholly unable to look away from him.

He was beautiful. To simply call him handsome would not do him justice; Max was handsome, but this man was something else entirely. His dark, lustrous hair fell forwards as he tilted his head towards her, and the dim light of the grand, sweeping hallway behind him seemed to form a halo of light around his muscular, barefooted body.

Most entrancing of all, though, were the soulful grey eyes that were fixed so intently upon her. Shannon had never before had occasion to regard a shade of grey as anything but dull and uninspiring, but those were the very last words she would use to describe the stranger’s eyes. They burned with what seemed to be the memories of a thousand lifetimes, an age of pain and passion smouldering in their depths.

Shannon’s lips parted in uncertainty as she stared up at him. Her heart was beating wildly out of time, and she had never felt more alive than she did in this moment when the passion in this frightening stranger’s eyes seemed to promise her so much.

Finally, just when she thought that she could bear the forbidding and pregnant silence no longer, he spoke again. “A child? Oh, I see no child – the most beautiful woman it has ever been my blessing to see stands before me, of that there is no doubt, but a child?” His sensuously full lips curved back into a predatory smile as he spoke, and he leaned casually against the doorframe.

“There – there was a child with me,” she said wildly, not knowing why it was that her legs were shaking so badly that she feared they would be unable to support her weight much longer. “She must have run back to the others; she didn’t want to come here, you see.”

“Well, a child’s instincts are very often correct,” he said gravely, a spark of amusement now dancing in his grey eyes. “And what do your instincts tell you, my lovely?”

A shiver ran down the full length of her spine as he reached out to take her hand, entwining his long fingers through his own and gently stroking the back of her hand. “My instincts are telling me to run, to run and never look back." 

***

Roll on October 31st! Whilst I've got your attention, do swing by the Goat Franchise's new website and subscribe to stay up to date with what I'm up to, along with all the latest news from Jake Bannerman. We're going to be opening up to submissions in the New Year, so keep your eyes peeled...

Kate x