Author Interview: K D Grace
Posted by Amy -N- Jess
Author Interview with K D Grace
First, can I just say thanks so much for having me over to Weet Weet’s Bookshelf. The interview has been SO much fun! Now to answer the question; I’m currently working on an urban fantasy romance set in Vegas. It’ll be a part of a series.
~Who is your favorite author?
Hands down favorite author has to be Diana Gabaldon. I read her books and loved them years before the Outlander series came to television. Whether it’s world building, research, writing the romantic and the erotic, writing nail-biting action or chilling horror, hers are not only fabulous reads, but I find them often the go-to books for me, as a writer, to see how to do it well. I also love J.R. Ward, Patricia Briggs, Karen Moning, Nora Roberts. Loved Marian Zimmer Bradley’s Mists of Avalon – still one of my favourite novels of all time.
~What writing advice do you have for aspiring authors?
Keep writing! Don’t give up no matter what. Just keep writing. And finish what you start! It doesn’t matter how badly you’ve written it. It’s a draft. It’s something to build on. First drafts are always crap, but until you have a first draft, you’ve got nothing to work with. From that first draft, great stories can be created. AND finally, have fun with it!
~Which of your characters is your Book Boyfriend? Why?
Right now it would have to be Wade Crittenden from Interviewing Wade in the Executive Decisions series. I’ve wanted to write his story for a long time, and when I actually got the chance, he totally blew me away. I never would have imagined the tale he would share with me. I like him because he surprised me and because he’s probably the most messed-up, damaged, yet sexy and witty and surprisingly tender hero I’ve ever written.
~Are you an organized author or scattered?
I don’t know if it’s possible to be both, but I feel that I am. I have a method that I follow, but that method gives me lots of room to be scattered and to be unpredictable. … if that makes any sense.
~Do you plot out your story or write as it goes?
I always begin by writing a short blurb and then a very loose chapter by chapter synopsis. For me, that synopsis is more like a road map that shows me the beginning and the end and major points in the middle, but leaves how I get there open so that I can take all the scenic routes and side trips I need to along the way.
~Do you have any strange writing habits?
I don’t know if this is strange or not, but I ‘walk my stories.’ I find the best way to plot and plan and create is to take a long walk. I’ve often come back from a four-hour walk with huge sections of a novel planned out or whole short stories plotted in my head. I just consider walking part of the writing process.
~Do you have writers block and how do you work around it?
I never have writers block. If anything I have the opposite problem, way more stories I want to write than I actually have time for.
~What is your favorite genre to read?
At the moment probably paranormal romance and urban fantasy. Though I read a bit of everything.
~If you could go back in time what is one thing you would tell your teenage self?
~What are your favorite hobbies?
Long distance walking, veg gardening, reading. Anything that gets me outdoors.
~Do you believe in love at first sight?
I can’t say that I don’t believe in it, but it hasn’t been my experience. My experience was that I fell deeply and passionately in love with my best friend. It was very much a Eureka moment. We’ve been together for 24 years now and he’s still my best friend.
~Name one of your pet peeves?
Too much noise! There’s too much noise in the world. I don’t like it when I can’t hear my thoughts. I don’t like it when I can’t hear the birds sing.
~Favorite drink? Alcoholic or not.
Iced tea! I’ve loved it since I was a little girl. I still love it. Coffee’s a close second though. I consider both essential to my well-being as a writer J
~What is one thing no one knows about you?
I have two little round scars in my cleavage from popcorn. That’s right! I was popping popcorn in a very low-necked tank top and a kernel popped up just as I poured out the finished corn, went down the front of my shirt and nestled right in between the girls making two small blisters leaving two small scars. You see what happens when I try to be sexy? 😉
~Do you have any hidden talents?
I’m good with languages. I speak Croatian – spoke it a whole lot better when I lived there. I find languages fascinating to study, but don’t have much time for it now.
~Most hated chore?
Taking out the trash. Lucky for me, my husband does it.
~Have you ever been in trouble with the police?
I’ve had a couple of speeding tickets. That’s about it.
~If you had a superpower, what would it be?
I’d love to be able to fly!
~If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?
~If you had a warning label what would it say?
~If you had to describe yourself as an animal, which one would it be?
On bad days a slug. On good days a cat.
~What was your first job?
~Who is one person you would like to meet for coffee?
~Are you a Tom boy or a girly girl?
Most definitely a Tom boy. I always angst when I have to dress the part of the romantic girly girl for a reading or a signing.
~What is your favorite/ go to cuss word?
Fuck! Fuck is to cussing what vanilla is to baking. Fuck is the fundamental flavor of cussing.
~Do you have any piercings/tattoos? If so where?
I actually pierced my own ears … three times on each side, back when I was in Uni, but quickly found I couldn’t be arsed to juggle three sets of earrings every day. As for tattoos, I’m too big a coward. Besides, I don’t like things that I can’t change at will if I want to.
~What is one of your phobias?
I can’t sleep in rooms that are totally dark. I have to be able to see and make out the outline of things in the room at least, otherwise I feel like I’m sleeping in a coffin, and I am NOT a vampire.
Carla nodded to the chair opposite her and Wade sat down cautiously. She offered a dry smile and spoke around a mouthful of toast. ‘Chair’s not booby-trapped, food’s not poisoned. My security system’s not that good.’
When he made no reply but savoured a forkful of eggs, she joined him in devouring the feast, satisfied that after the first bite, he shovelled it in with as much relish and lack of delicate table manners as she did. With her, eating was always done in a hurry to get on with what was always way more work than she had time for, unless she was settling in for a meal with her father. She suspected he cooked for her especially for that reason. And as she watched Wade stuff half a slice of toast into his mouth in one go, she figured he was probably the same, with no one to make sure he got a good meal from time to time. Though possibly Ellis invited him over occasionally, or maybe Harris Walker and his new wife, Stacie Emerson. Apparently her culinary skills were spoken about in hush tones. Strange, but it felt good to be able to offer something to Wade, even if the idiot did show up at three in the morning
‘Good,’ he said, at last, covering his full mouth with the paper towel she’d given him in lieu of the napkins she didn’t have.
‘Thanks. You think this is good, you should see me make Pop Tarts.
‘I like Pop Tarts,’ he said.
‘The secret is,’ she leaned across the table, ‘you’ve got to get the toaster set just right. And then afterwards,’ he leaned closer with wrapped attention, ‘afterwards I put butter on ‘em and stick ‘em in the microwave until it melts.’
Wade’s eyes were huge and very green in the kitchen lighting. He looked dead serious, as though she had just given him her secret for cold fusion. ‘I never thought about melting the butter on them in the microwave,’ he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘But I find that I do like mine so that the little pastry edges are just beginning to get almost too brown.’
Christ! Were they actually talking about Pop Tarts? She laughed. ‘I like ‘em almost burnt, but I know that’s a matter of personal taste. My Dad likes his just barely warm.’
He lowered his head and went back to shovelling eggs.
She popped the last of her bacon into her mouth and spoke around it. ‘So tell me, is Fort Flannery as unassailable as my father assured me, or are we in need of an upgrade?’
He drained his glass of orange juice and pushed back from the table. ‘Your father did a good job. I didn’t have to do hardly anything.’
‘He’ll be glad to hear that,’ she said. ‘Sorry you had to waste your valuable time in the wee hours. I know how busy you are.’
‘Yes, well, it was on my mind. If you’ll let me see your Android, I’ll give it a little upgrade too.’
‘Will I be able to watch Russian porn on it?’ she asked.
‘Japanese and Chinese porn as well, if you like.’ There was that quirk of a smile that she really would love to eat right off his face.
‘And I’ll assume you’ve given it a test-drive.’
To her delight, the smile didn’t disappear, even though the blush was hot on those chiselled cheeks. ‘I’m my own best guinea pig.’
‘Wade Crittenden, that borders on too much information, but in the interest of consumer protection and all, I thank you.’ The blush grew, but the smile stayed put as she offered him a salute and went into her bedroom to get the device.
She returned to find that he’d shed his hoodie and was filling the sink with soapy water, his broad back mantling the counter like a giant bird of prey. For a second her stomach bottomed at the sight of Wade Crittenden doing dishes at her sink. She stood, Android crushed to her chest, feeling flushed and slightly off-balance. His t-shirt was a loose fit, misshapen and short in the back from too many washings for something that should have migrated to the rag drawer some time ago, and when he reached across the sink to add still more soap, the shirt rode up to reveal the slim line of his back and the muscles where his hips joined his torso just above the swell of his buttocks. The baggy jeans gave enough of an intimation of that swelling to leave Carla breathless and hot enough to want to throw off her own hoodie and splash herself with the soapy water in which he was nearly elbow-deep.
As though he sensed her watching, he turned, slopped water down the front of his shirt and onto his jeans and uttered a surprised curse.
Without thinking she rushed to his side, dropping the device on the table. ‘You don’t have to do that,’ she managed, in a breathless gasp. ‘Sometimes I go for weeks without ever washing so much as a coffee cup.’ She stretched around him, grabbed for a dish towel and offered it to him instead of patting him dry herself, which was what she really wanted to do.
He reached for the towel, holding her gaze. ‘You cook for me, I do the clean-up for you. Fair’s fair.’ His hand slid into the cloth and around her fingers as he drew it to his chest. His breath caught, his lips parted as though to speak, and God help her, she couldn’t resist, she leaned into him on tippy-toe and planted a kiss firmly on his mouth. She only meant for it to be a friendly peck, a way of saying thanks for checking up on her and for doing the dishes, but his other hand, covered with soapy water, swooped in and grabbed the front of her hoodie reeling her to him. Then he curled his fingers in the tangle of her wild hair and cradled the back of her head, pulling her still further up on her toes. ‘Oh God,’ he whispered, his tongue darting deep, his lips, soft and hard and bruising all at the same time, meeting hers in a clash of wills and a heroic effort to get closer and deeper. ‘Oh God, Carla, why did you do that,’ he gasped against her mouth.
‘Just being friendly,’ she managed, before the tongue sparring got serious. He gave the towel a toss and yanked down the zipper of her hoodie, shoving it off onto the floor, his hands skimming her breasts in his efforts, thumbs lingering to rake her nipples that were already painful in their peaking. His jeans might have been loose, but they were not loose enough to disguise his erection, and he didn’t seem to care. Both hands slid to cup her bottom and he lifted her, settling her onto the kitchen table, pushing her legs apart with his knees and moving in between her thighs as she went to work on his fly.
‘I have lots of friends, ‘ he breathed. ‘None of them do that to me.’
‘How about this,’ she said biting his lower lip and sliding her hand down inside his boxers. ‘Do they do this?’
‘No,’ he returned the nip. ‘Never, none of them.’ For a second he faltered. ‘Carla, I –’
‘Shut up, Wade. I don’t wanna hear it.’ This time she bit his tongue before she took his hand and guided it down into her baggy sweat bottoms and into her own boxers.