Showing posts with label Kathryn Kelly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kathryn Kelly. Show all posts

Monday, March 9, 2015

Inferno by Kathryn Kelly Release Blitz!



Title: Inferno 
Author: Kathryn Kelly
Release Date: March 10th 2015
Amazon AISN: B00U3DW1WE
CreateSpace ISBN 13: 9781507723661
Smashwords ISBN: 9781310199202
Are ISBN: KTHKLX0000006





I’m a rocker with the eyes of the world on me. Waiting for my triumph or my downfall…just waiting.
Most of my life is in my hands. My destiny? That’s another story. My destiny isn’t as debt free.
My band, Phoenix Rising, arrives in Houston to cut a new album. Before we perform our first concert in the city and I choose my groupies of the night, I’m thrust into debauchery. Sleeping with a gorgeous woman twenty years older than me has its perks, especially when her husband orchestrated the encounter and eagerly watches. To me, performing is performing. If a man wants to share his wife, who am I to stop him?
Unfortunately for me, I don’t make a clean getaway as I leave the McCall mansion. Georgie, their sixteen-year-old daughter, is in the midst of her own intrigue, sneaking home in the middle of the night after an evening of drugs and sex with her older brother’s best friend. In her, I see me. She’s lost and drifting. Her hedonistic parents insist she’s old enough to make her own decisions. Instead of time and love, they give her money and things.
I’m a twenty-five-year old international superstar and I know better. I’m cocky and arrogant. I know it so I own it. Somehow, I’ve always bested the fates. I have all to lose—my reputation, my career, and my freedom. Her mother’s jealousy forces my hand and I take Georgie on the tour.
This is our story and our secret relationship and the destruction of my life. You know the adage about secrets?  Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead. Wise words from a wise man. If only I had listened. Secrets have a way of revealing themselves in the harshest way.



WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO WRITE INFERNO:
Inferno was inspired after I read a news article about a much older man who fell in love with a girl when she was 16. My imagination took over from there and Georgie and Sloane were born. The ending to the real story was sad and heartbreaking. However, Georgie and Sloane will ultimately find happiness.
















Hooking a finger inside my mesh T-shirt, she shakes her head. She really likes touching me. If I did relationships, I’d get her number. Give the paparazzi another reason to chase me and attempt to pick apart my actions. They’ve supposedly pegged my type. What would they say if I introduced her as my lover? Young and dark-haired. I can’t think of a better way to fuck with them.
“You aren’t an addict anymore.” Her voice breaks into my contemplations. “You’ve been clean since you demolished the record company’s studio and you’re halfway through the American leg of your tour. You’re not messing that up. I won’t allow it.”
Her defiance makes me laugh, although my heart hammers. While I consider using her for my amusement, her concern for me is genuine. “It isn’t for me. It’s for a special friend.”
“That porn star you’re dating?”
Fuck, she really does follow my life closely. “I’ve never dated one porn star.” Although I fucked several on the plane ride to Houston. “I want the fucking baggie. Now.”
Again, she denies me with a shake of her head. I suspect she’s used to getting her way. Is it because she’s spoiled or ignored, I don’t know. I do know what she needs, though. Discipline. Structure. Focus. At one time, I found it in my music. Lately, not even music has been enough to subdue my restiveness.
Asshole steps beside her. “Powder belongs to me,” he says tightly, a handkerchief pressed to his bleeding nose, his eye already swelling. “It’s my decision who gets it or not and I’ve chosen her.”
Cursing, I dig in my back pocket and offer him all the hundreds I have.
“Sloane, please.” Her tortured whisper will haunt me. The care and concern infused in it is more than I get from anyone. “Do you swear it isn’t for you?”
I nod and, as quickly as I came upon her, she leaves. Just like that. A delicate star brightening my life one moment and an elusive angel floating forever away the next.
Long minutes later, I sit with the coke, fighting the urge to do a line. My hands actually shake.
Sloane, please…”
Her plea bounces in my head and her scent remains on my fingers, my lips, and in my mouth. For her, the sad, little temptress, I find the nearest bathroom and flush the blow. Then, I splash water on my face. It isn’t cold at all, so it doesn’t give my system the shock it needs to snap back from my encounter with her.



I regret not forcing the issue about her name. All it took was one look from me to get my dick into her mouth. I’m sure one, cold command for her name would’ve produced results, too. Maybe, I didn’t want to know it. A name is so personal. This way, our sex remained simple and unencumbered with expectations.




She said I’d forget her name, so she never bothered to offer it to me. But, she’s a younger, softer, feminine version of me. For the rest of my life, I’ll remember the unidentified waif with the gorgeous purple eyes.



















                          



                                                             




                                                








Kathryn Kelly is living her dream and writing books. She's always been an avid reader and still devours books in her spare time. She also enjoys football, socializing, music, eating, and jokes. In her head, she's the ultimate biker babe. In reality, she's an ordinary girl-next-door and a native New Orleanian.

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Friday, December 5, 2014

Misguided by Kathryn Kelly Release Blitz!






Misguided (Death Dwellers MC #4)
Release date: December 5, 2014


A biker: Lucas “Mortician” Banks stopped believing in love after a bitter betrayal. As Club Enforcer, the Death Dwellers MC is his home, where no rules exist and brotherhood rule. He never expected to fall for the daughter of K-P Andrews, a biker from the old guard, who is now deceased. Is love enough to survive secrets, brutality, and betrayal?
A beauty: Bailey Andrews was fascinated by the biker from the first moment they met. She seized the opportunity to have his phone number and, somehow, ended up married to him when she accompanied Mortician on a run to Las Vegas. She uncovers the connection between her father and Mortician’s father and the horrible betrayals it led to within the MC. Can she leave the secrets stay buried? Or will she expose them and ruin her marriage to the only man she’ll ever love?
A bet: Smug in his assumption he’d never fall as hard for as woman as his Prez fell for a girl, Mortician put his money where his mouth was and made that bet. With 20Gs on the line and two weeks left before he wins or loses, Mortician has to decide if Bailey and their marriage is more important or saving face and keeping his money. Having only ever seen the destruction of love gone wrong, what will Mortician decide?
A baby: Now, Bailey’s pregnant with his baby and hiding another detrimental secret that she, herself, recently discovered. Will she have to choose between her life and the baby’s? Or will she find a way to save both herself and her child’s?

Warning: This is a brutal tale of worlds colliding—a mega-church with the command to destroy, powerful men with their own agendas, and raw and dirty bikers who will win at all costs. Contains violence, drug use, and excessive foul language.

BUY LINKS

Excerpt: 3:33AM
Every decision for life-changing events happened at 3:33 in the morning.
Or so his father claimed.
To Mortician, though, three thirty three represented something different. Symbolized half of evil and, when put together, created a whole.
Six fucking six six, divided by two, equaled half of fucking Satan. Fitting. Sharper and Charlemagne Banks equaled the demonic fucking duo. One couldn’t work without the other. Therefore, life-changing events always took place at three fucking thirty-three—because Fat & Skinny, Evil & Eviler, Slicker & Slickest, worked together.
Muscles twitching in anger, Mortician hunkered down in the pew, glaring at the overcrowded pulpit and searching the choir stand for Char as Sharper’s voice droned on.
Mortician had spent too many Sundays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays in this fucking building. As the membership grew and Sharper’s pockets swelled, their status inched up. And the fucking deceit went out of control.
A flash of silver material caught his eye and Mortician shifted, angling his head to get a better glimpse of her. Char. Still gorgeous with her dusky skin, high cheekbones, and slanted eyes. Bitch couldn’t compare to Bailey, though.
Not wanting to think of Bailey right now because he needed to keep calm to get to her, Mortician gritted his teeth and shifted, scowling at the imperious lift of the brow from the older suited-up motherfucker next to him. Suit and tie bent and whispered something to his wife and she peeked around her husband. She was younger, could have been his daughter, except for the way the man buzzed her lips with his own.
Unable to help himself, Mortician winked at her. Sadity, stuck-up, society bitch, who would open her legs to him in a minute. He tried his best to stay away from married bitches, a certain cop’s wife being the exception.
The nose-far-enough-in-the-air-to-drown-in-a-drizzle motherfucker angled his body toward Mortician in clear warning.
He wanted a dick measuring contest here? In church? Really?
If not for the maid he’d bribed—well, the knife to her throat had helped—he’d be bored as a motherfucker listening to his father’s baritone voice singing Praise Is What I Do.
He needed to act normal. If his dad thought for one minute that Mortician knew he had Bailey, he’d give the order and have her killed.
That thought fucked with his head, so Mortician leaned over to fuck with Mr. Asshole and Mrs. Sadity. “If your dick too limp from all the steroids you must fucking take to get so built, I’ll fuck her for you.”
Anger lit the man’s dark eyes. Finally, some fucking entertainment. But it didn’t ease the ache in Mortician’s chest.
He needed Bailey.
No. He needed to get Bailey safe. He didn’t need her. He’d needed his mother and he’d needed Charlemagne and he’d had his heart ripped out both times.
Give it up, asshole. You need Bailey. You want her. You love her.
So now he was hearing romantic fucking voices in his head? Fuck off. He’d prefer to talk to his dick. Once upon a time, he’d named it Roscoe.
Had he ever told Bailey that his dick’s name was Roscoe? Had he even remembered? There wasn’t much he remembered when he was around Bailey. She consumed him. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. But, mostly, he wanted to fucking kill. And he would. Brutally and viciously. Slowly and methodically.
Spotify Playlist - 




Youtube book Trailer -







Other books in the series:

Misled (Death Dwellers MC #1)



Misappropriate (Death Dwellers MC #1.5)



Misunderstood (Death Dwellers MC #2)



Misdeeds (Death Dwellers MC #2.5)




Misbehavior (Death Dwellers MC #3)



Misjudged (Death Dwellers MC #3.5)







ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kathryn Kelly is living her dream and writing books. She's always been an avid reader and still devours books in her spare time. She also enjoys football, socializing, music, eating, and jokes. In her head, she's the ultimate biker babe. In reality, she's an ordinary girl-next-door and a native New Orleanian.



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