CAUTION: Brainstorming session in progress

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Sunday, August 28, 2011

Demon Induced Diet - by Natasha Rogue

Natasha Rogue requires no introduction. Not because you’ve heard of this newly published author, but because her skillful prose says more about this woman and her talent than I ever could.
By the way, A BREED APART: The Token isn't available for sale until tomorrow. Yeah, I know. Order a pizza and a six pack of Pepsi until then.

*Please note: This diet only works after you've made obscure deals with a very creepy debilitated creature who visits your bedroom at night.
A bit of blubber never hurt no one, but Callie Michaels, the main character from A Breed Apart, has some ideas on how to lose that troublesome bit of baby fat before the Winter Formal. And, well, getting in shape when there are constant threats to your life is a good idea. Which brings me to Callie's key to staying on track with your weight loss plans.
Motivation. It's all about motivation. First, you need to find the right kinda guy. And we're not talking about prince charming here. We're talking about the hot bad boy who's gonna keep you on your toes wondering if you're doing absolutely everything in your power to make him happy. If you're not sure, then you're not doing enough! Okay, maybe you're not even sure why you like this guy, seems like you always considered him a bit of a jerk, but hey, his kisses are worth giving up chocolate. And ice cream. And at least a couple of meals.
Besides, your craving lean towards a liquid diet anyway. ;)
Once you've gotten past all that, you'll find the rest is easy. The pounds start melting away and then all you've got to do is exercise a bit to tone up. Remember what I said about threats to your life? Well, that will get you moving! And if that's not enough, just get in a few fights. You'll find your strength has drastically improved.
Just try not to kill anyone.
Callie Michaels isn't pretty, or popular, but her voice more than makes up for all she lacks. And as long as she focuses on what's really important, she can survive high school. But how can she focus with all the drama? Between her best friend's odd issues and a daily dose of weirdness from the social elite, she's starting to wonder if she's the only normal one around. 

Just as her life begins spiraling out of control, the answer comes to her in a dream. In exchange for a token of blood, a demon will give her everything she desires. She says "yes."

From that point on, she finds herself changing, becoming into something far from normal. Something dangerous.

No one's what they seem—least of all her. While the supernatural creatures around her struggle to maintain their humanity, Callie's slowly loses hers. She doesn't even know what's important anymore. Friendship, the future, love? And is there anyone who can make her care?
Callie's first scene with Nick...
My palm brushed a rectangular piece of dark, glossed wood, and I jerked my hand back. The burn sunk into my flesh like molten metal. A pitiful whimper escaped me, and I stared at my hand, expecting welts or blisters.
There was nothing.
Cool fingers wrapped around my wrist. I looked up into silver-flecked green eyes, so like Tammy's, only darker.
Nick's lips pressed to the very spot on my hand that hurt the worse. The pain subsided. "You shouldn't leave your toys lying around, Tammy."
White as the papers in her hands, Tammy glared at her brother. "What did you do?"
"What did I do?" He released my hand, bent down, and plucked one of the wood things off the floor. "I'm not the one with weird voodoo stuff in my bag."
Tammy snatched it away from him. Her eyes drifted to her locker. "You made it open . . . ."
"No, you crammed too much stuff in there." Nick leaned against the locker beside his sister's and flicked a sleek strand of black hair off his face. "Care to explain to Callie how that little chunk of wood burned her hand?"
Moving away from the coffee that was slowly spreading over the gray tiled floor, Tammy turned all her attention to shoving her things back in her bag. "I didn't see a burn."
Nick helped me to my feet and clucked his tongue. "Try again."
I had the distinct impression that Nick was intentionally putting his sister on the spot. Loyalty demanded that I stop him. Bewilderment kept me quiet.
Tammy gave me a helpless look. "Sorry, Callie. Maybe there was still some turpentine on it . . . ."
"Better." Nick laughed. "I take it Callie's not in your shop class?"
I stared at Tammy's bag. "You made those in shop class?"
"Yeah." Tammy's hand fluttered up to her neck. She palmed the pendant hidden  under her shirt and avoided my steady gaze.
So I turned to Nick. "Thank you for . . . whatever that was." I flipped the inquisition on him. "How did you do that anyway?"
Nick kissed the tips of his fingers and pressed them to my bottom lip. I hadn't even realized it was still hurting until his touch made it stop. "Haven't you heard?" He shifted a little closer to me. "My touch is magic."
Tammy stood and pushed between us. "Stop."
"What?" Nick said, holding up his hands, all innocence. When Tammy didn't answer, he looked back at me. "Can I take you out to replace the coffee?"
I rubbed my arms and shook my head. "No thanks. I've got to . . . ." My gaze drifted over to Tammy as I scrambled for a valid excuse.
She kept her eyes fixed on her books. Big help.
Nick shrugged and stepped away from the lockers. "Maybe some other time."
He strolled down along the corridor and deep, dark shadows swept out, swirling around him like oily mist. I wanted to rub my eyes and scrub away the illusion, but I couldn’t move. The warped scene mesmerized me. He mesmerized me. His footsteps echoed, a steady, entrancing beat into the quiet hall. Too quiet. My pulse thudded hard and fast in my skull as reason clawed to the surface. There should have been a hundred people walking around. Class hadn't started yet. And yet there was no one . . . no one but Nick.
For more excerpts from A BREED APART: The Token visit

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

My Novel "Whistle Pass" Will Be Published!!

"Whistle Pass," my gay, no-sex, limited profanity, full-length suspense novel was contracted by Dreamspinner Press tonight. I am stoked!! I am also elated a gay fiction story without sex was accepted for E-book and paperback publication. YES!!

Monday, August 22, 2011

Mr. Fix-It by Debbie Vaughan

Mr. Fix-It, Debbie Vaughan's latest romance is now available for pre-order:
Siren Bookstrand
Debbie's Web Site

Tropical nights, salsa rhythms, and Latin hunks fill Beverly Miller's fitful dreams. Mounting bills, hungry four-legged friends, and a farm in desperate need of repair are her reality. Her worthless ex-husband made sure she’d have plenty to keep her busy, off the market, and regretting every moment spent with him.

Handyman Chad Brewster's life was shattered with his wife’s tragic death five years ago. As he replaces Bev’s heat pump and mends fences, both literally and figuratively, he can't deny the feisty and beautiful Beverly awakens desires and emotions he never expected to feel again.

Chad’s charms don’t go unnoticed by Beverly. When they succumb, their passions burn away any doubt, past pain, or failure, if only for the moment.

Beverly’s loathsome ex and his sadistic partner each have their own agenda for her, which doesn’t include her muscled boyfriend. Jealousy and revenge battle love and compassion. Winner takes all.

The Darker Side of Heaven by KB Cutter

Shadows lengthen over the world. Turmoil rages.
Something evil this way comes . . . .
Emotionally conflicted avenger Chalice Noire, product of an unholy union between demon and angel, is a slayer to the forces of darkness. Employed by shadowy benefactors in Rome, her sect is commanded by fallen angel Nikolai Voss, whose allegiance is not to the church but to the flame of vengeance that burns within.


But Chalice possesses a holy relic, a Weapon of the Mass, Nikolai desperately craves, and he will stop at nothing to retrieve it, destroying anything or anyone, including his own soul.

Renegade vampire Adam Blake is a recluse, attempting to bury his troubled past and the tortured memory of his former lover, Chalice Noire, in America's last frontier: the Alaskan wilderness.

Armageddon looms, the agents of light and darkness gather forces. The battle to be fought not on the sands of prophecy, but in the rugged beauty of Alaska, where Chalice and Adam once again cross paths. Can they reconcile their past to save humanity's future?

Buy Link
KB's Web Site


Hell is empty and all the devils are here
~ William Shakespeare
Fire Island, N.Y.
Chalice Noire wanted to slit their throats. Instead, she caressed the prominent bulge in the cultured man's trousers and slowly ground her ass against the crotch of the biker behind her.

Blood letting would come later.

"I think someone wants to party." Victor's hooded gaze remained on her hand as she massaged his crotch.

Chalice tightened her grip on the outline of his fierce erection.

Victor winced, his breath hitching in his throat.

"I'm not the only one." Chalice murmured in his ear.

She suppressed the urge to do a Mike Tyson on his lobe.

The biker grabbed her by the waist. She could feel his insistent heat pressing hard against the flimsy fabric of her summer dress.

"You know what they say, two's company, and three's a ménage." The biker's voice held the rasp of a thousand gargled razor blades.

Chalice felt his rough hands gliding along her bare legs. The bastard's hand pushed the fabric of her dress higher, exposing her ass.

"Christ, Victor, she's a fucking party girl, all right. Kinky fuck me boots and little bitch's goin' commando!"

Chalice gritted her teeth.

Anger welled up in her breast, a red beast clawing its way to the surface. She did not want to lose control. Her own base instincts began to clamor for attention. She willed herself to resist the insistent energy, the pulsating desire that made blood throb in her temples, and in her clit.

She squeezed Victor's cock harder.

"Ow! My sweet, I do so enjoy your robust enthusiasm, but I'm not a masochist."

Bullshit, Victor Kozlov, I am privy to the darkness that lurks within your corrupted soul.
The biker, Dominic Stone, continued to paw at her ass. He bore a bullshit name, but it wouldn't matter much longer. His groping hands dipped between her legs, massaged her sex. The son-of-a-bitch could introduce himself to the devil when she was through with him.

Simultaneously repulsed and sexually charged, she struggled to control the part of her that made her wet from their touch.

"I'm gonna fuck you right here and now. My cock's so hard for your wet pussy, baby. It's practically busting through my zipper."

"Dominic, please; no need to voice such vulgarities. The way our bodies react to this gorgeous creature, our flesh speaks volumes, and our tongues should be put to better use."

Victor's voice was a rich, soothing bass. No wonder women fell under his charm. Tall, dark, and aristocratically handsome, with a hint of eastern European accent, he appeared the consummate bon vivant.

Chalice knew better. Beneath Victor's cultured facade, lurked a career criminal with a specialty in trafficking flesh, preying on the innocent, the unwary. She tracked him across the entire breadth of Asia and through half of Eastern Europe. She had always been one step behind.

Until now.

His vanity would be his demise, alongside his liaisons with things of a dark nature. The women were not always bound for the sex trade. Some suffered a fate far worse than prostitution. Victor had to satiate the black appetites of beings not of this world who aided him in his desire for money and power. The Audro Council, the shadowy Vatican-based organization she worked for to help rid the world of evil and those who consorted with the legions of devil spawn had long sought to end the Russian criminal enterprise. She thought it ironic the church recruited her, she an offspring of an unholy union of half human-half demon succubus and corrupted angel. Her talent for bloodshed kept the questioning lips of certain cardinals and bishops still concerned over her suspect linage trembling. In the early days, she thought of herself as an avenger, now . . . she wasn't so sure.

Chalice often wondered how innocent the girls actually were. To be so blindly ignorant, so stupidly naive to fall for Victor's line of bullshit, perhaps they deserved their fate of sexually indentured servitude.

She felt nothing for these women, not anger or sorrow. Tonight, however, a small vestige of humanity smoldered inside of her.

A tiny flame in the dark.


Useless emotion, girl. Get your head out of your ass or get killed.

Dominic's hoarse voice dissipated the fog of her self-rumination. "Whatever, Victor, all I know, is I like what I see and feel, and what I want, I fucking take. This piece of ass is gonna take all my fat cock deep in her soaking cunt."

Chalice sensed movement behind her. Dominic grunted, undoubtedly trying to extract his turgid member from his jeans. She wondered how a Russian criminal oligarch like Victor Kozlov hooked up with a Pagan biker enforcer like Stone. It was obviously a business arrangement. Victor supplied the women; Dominic got them strung out on drugs, and eventually they hustled their scrawny asses in biker-run strip joints or Russian mafia-backed whorehouses.

Chalice shivered. The slick, bulbous head of Dominic's cock pressed against her ass.
Damn, girl, get a grip. Don't lose it now.

She rarely let her body respond so viscerally, but she hadn't had sex in weeks. The need for ecstasy burned in the deepest fiber of her being. Her accursed lineage stirred the lustful beast within. Perhaps it was a mistake taking on two powerfully built men alone, no back up, no one ghosting her movements, especially on a goddamned island. Chalice knew it was risky, deadly, but she rarely second guessed her instincts. Doing so in her line of work got you one thing: dead. Chalice had to go it alone. She preferred it that way. Whatever transpired, it was on her, no trigger-happy cowboy heroes crashing through doors at the wrong moment.

"Hey, Dom, baby, slow down or you're gonna blow your wad too soon. Let's get little Victor to come out and play." Chalice cooed.

"He is not so little, my love."

Dominic slapped Chalice's ass. She barely resisted the urge to reach behind her and rip his balls off.

"Sorry, little darlin'. It's like a fire hose; once the pressure's on, it's gonna be a gusher. Fuck, c'mon Victor, whip it out unless you gone fag or somethin'. I ain't got all goddamn night."

Chalice grinned inwardly.

Neither do I.

Victor's eyes narrowed into piercing black coals. His gaze pure malice, body tensing. He obviously didn't like being addressed in such a vulgar manner.

Chalice slowly pulled Victor's zipper down, diffusing the palpable tension. She worked his thick cock out, grasping his shaft, stroking his expanding flesh.

"Oh Victor's not gone fag—quite the contrary."

Chalice smiled, gently blowing on the tip of Victor's cock. He shivered in her touch, precum leaking from the tip.

Dominic grunted. Chalice could feel his pelvis against her ass, the large head of his cock about to part the folds of her sex. Victor began to stroke Chalice's hair, his eyes closing, obviously anticipating her mouth upon his swollen cock.

Her gaze narrowed.

The party's started.

Chalice reared up, bringing her right arm forward and then shot it back, her elbow connecting with Dominic's throat.

She heard a satisfying crunch.

Dominic stumbled back, gurgling. She kept her grip on Victor's cock, squeezing with all of her might, his eyes bulging. She violently jerked her arm left and heard a gratifying, wet tearing sound. Victor's screams joined Dominic's rasping and choking.
Chalice withdrew the dagger from her boot sheath. The French doors were open, white curtains fluttering in the breeze; the pale moonlight glinted on the flat of the blade.

Chalice glanced at Dominic; his hands were at his throat, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. He crumbled to his knees, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

Victor continued to scream, curled on the floor in a fetal position, his hands clasping his crotch.

The beach house, while secluded, was not remote enough to allow Victor to wail like a banshee.

Chalice had to silence him. His howls of pain would carry on the open air.

She strode to the downed man, boot heels deafening loud on the floor, and kicked him over.

Victor yelped like a whipped dog.

Chalice slit his throat.

"Ah, thank you. That fucking yowling was driving me nuts."

Chalice whipped around to the grinning face of Dominic Stone bearing down upon her.
She was unable to sidestep his advance completely. For a large man, he moved incredibly fast and hit her in the shoulder, knocking the blade from her hand, spinning her around. She regained her footing, splaying her legs. Dominic slammed into the flat screen TV, shattering its black screen. He spun around, his movements fluid, quick, and unnaturally athletic. No run-of-the mill biker muscle.

"I hope Victor got the extended warranty." Dominic glanced at the Russian. His body still. Blood leaked out of the gash in his neck. "I guess it don't matter now."

Chalice eyed the dagger.

Dominic squinted. "I know what you're thinking; can I get to it before he does?"

"That's a piss poor Clint Eastwood impression."

He laughed.

"Actually, it was supposed to be Charles Bronson. Eastwood's a wuss."

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Hmm, I thought you figured that out already. Guess your brains are in your tits."

Dominic licked his lips. He grinned, displaying rows of sharp, needle-like teeth.

"I'm an incubus. Although I must issue this disclaimer: I'm not pure-blood. I have ta do that, bit of a drag, really, but as a lesser demon, one must adhere to the Unholy Scripts."

Chalice remained mute, taking in the information.

The biker shrugged. "I'm like you, half-breed, although I think you are more along the lines of a mutt."

Chalice bared her teeth, inching forward.

Dominic held up his hands.

"Easy, Xena; guess I struck a nerve. C'mon, you have to know who you are, at least parts of you. I certainly know one part of you. I can smell it."

Chalice balled her hands into fists.

Dominic sighed.

"Am I going to have to call you Cleopatra, huh? Queen of fucking denial? Listen, why don't we cut to the chase. You could use a good fuck, Satan knows I'd enjoy giving one. So, let's shed our human masquerade, get busy, and I drench you in sticky demon jizz."

"You're a vile creature. I'd rather slit my wrists and drink my own blood than fuck you."

The biker chewed on his lower lip, drawing a foul smelling, brackish fluid that snaked down his chin.

"Your words sting, sweet cheeks. Go on; pretend you're not like me. Keep deluding yourself. Truth hurts like a motherfucker. You want it rough. I'm down with that. I dig the pain thing. Bitch, I am going to enjoy raping every hole in your body."

The thing that called itself Dominic transformed. The leather jacket and jeans began to smoke and burn as the clothing fell to ashes on the floor. Muscles flexed under coarse, bile green, scaly flesh. Its penis swung pendulously, thickening rapidly; the bulbous head soon rose a foot above the creature's muscled abdomen.

Chalice's gaze fell upon the pulsating organ.

"For an incubus, you have a really small dick."

The demon's laugh was like sand poured off a gravedigger's shovel.

"The succu-bitch has a sense of humor after all."

Rage consumed her. Chalice charged forward, her lips pulled back, snarling like a she-wolf. This loathsome thing would soon regret its mocking words. The demon roared, shattering the panes of glass in the doors. Chalice feinted left then quickly sprinted to the right, as if a quarterback dodging the sack. The incubus slashed with its talons, ripping the back of her dress. Its nails raked her flesh. Chalice cried out in pain as she leapt for the dagger, sliding across the floor on her stomach. She managed to clasp the hilt when the demon lashed out again, ripping more fabric and flesh.

Chalice could smell her skin burning, could feel her back wet with her own blood. The incubus lunged as Chalice flipped onto her back, the agony from the cauterized wounds making her eyes water. The demon attempted to straddle her, its impossibly long, thick erection pulsated menacingly over her. She swung the blade, intent on severing the horrid appendage, when a voice exploded inside of her head.


The arc of the blade slowed, giving the demon enough time to jerk back. The dagger sliced the incubus's legs, causing it to cry out in a combination of pain and a sound she could only assume came from relief that she had not lopped off its prized organ.

The wounds on the demon's legs burned. The stench of rotting flesh filled the room.

"You cunt, you fucking impure blooded she-bitch!" The demon wailed, snatching the dagger from her weakened hand. Chalice's mind reeled. Chaotic images flashed in her mind. She knew that voice. Saw his face. Why did he call to her now?

The incubus slashed at her abdomen. The blade sliced a thin, surgically red straight line stretched across her stomach. Blood began to seep from the laceration.

The demon's flesh continued to burn. Tendrils of smoke wafted from the cuts on its legs.

He loomed over her, the dagger blade pointed downward. The demon's face contorted in agony and rage. Chalice tried to fight the lethargy in her body. She knew it wanted to finish her off, drive the dagger into her chest, stake her to the floor like a butterfly to cork board.

She was not going out like this, on her back.


She was the hunter, not the prey.

Chalice screamed, throwing her hands up, if she had to grasp the blade, severing her fingers, so be it. She would fight this sex-crazed piece of filth from hell with every ounce of strength she could muster.

She heard the crunch of broken glass and the sound of muffled . . . gunshots. Or was it the ocean slapping the shoreline? The demon growled as the dagger came down.

Chalice saw the red and black brimstone eyes of the beast ablaze with pure undiluted hatred. Chalice reached for the blade, her gaze locking with the demons.

The incubus jerked. Its body twitched. Small bits of flesh exploded into greenish-black mists off its body.

The dagger continued its downward spiral, and as Chalice swatted it away, she thought she heard tiny coffin nails clinking on the floor.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Too Hot by Lauren Fraser

When it comes to her career, Josie Sharp sees things with perfect clarity, but her love life? Well, that’s completely out of focus. Coming off a rough breakup, she’s insecure and hesitant about men, especially ones as sexy as firefighter Marco Patelli. Although she may be wary of his intentions, she’d have to be a fool to pass up the chance to be with a man like him. And foolishness is not in her genes.

Josie is nothing like the women Marco normally goes for, but something about the shy photographer’s vulnerability calls to his dominant side. As he helps Josie explore her sexuality, Marco realizes there is so much more to Josie than meets the eye.

But when lies and insecurities collide, Marco is going to have to fight to prove to Josie that what they have goes so much deeper than sex.

Josie made her way toward the gym. The sound of old-school, AC/DC’s Thunderstruck, carried down the hallway. At the doorway she stopped and looked inside. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she saw Marco running on the treadmill. Alone in the gym, he ran at a grueling pace. Sweat ran down his bare chest. She followed the path of one droplet as it snaked between the ridges of his abs, through the dark hair under his bellybutton and into the waistband of his shorts. She tried to swallow but her throat seemed to have closed tightly, forcing her to gulp for air. Holy mother of god, she wanted to lick every inch of his body.
His eyes met hers, heat flared between them. He must have seen the raw lust on her face because a slow, carnal smile spread across his face.
“Hey, Josie, give me one sec.” He flicked off the treadmill, grabbed his t-shirt from the handle and wiped it across his face.
“Did you get my message?” he asked.
Unable to drag her eyes from his chest, she nodded.
“So, what’s your answer?”
“My what?” Raising her head, she sighed. Oh the man was beautiful. Around him somehow her mind shut off and she became a bumbling idiot. His eyes twinkled with amusement and he winked.
“Are you up for coming out with us tonight?” he asked again.
She blinked, trying to clear the fog. God, he must think she was such a loser. She couldn’t even have a normal conversation. “Umm…sure,” she stammered.
Marco stepped toward her. Josie’s nipples beaded tightly, pressing against the lace of her bra.
A sexy smile curved the corner of his lips. “Do I make you nervous, Red?”
She squared her shoulders. “Of course not,” she said, forcing herself to stand her ground and not move away.
He grinned and moved closer. She could feel the heat from his body and the scent of his sweat turned her on better than any cologne ever could.
He tucked her bangs behind her ear and trailed his hand along the back of her neck, cupping her head with his palm to hold her in place.
“Then how come you’re shivering now?” he whispered against her ear. His hot breath sent another shiver through her body. “Josie, clearly you’re as attracted to me as I am to you so why are you fighting it?” he asked.
“I’m not fighting anything.” Damn, the breathless sigh in her voice didn’t exactly add much validity to her statement.
“Liar,” he said and nipped her earlobe between his teeth. The touch sent an arrow of heat straight from her ear to her pussy and she clamped her knees together.
Marco ran a teasing path along the shell of her ear. It felt amazing. She closed her eyes and tilted her head to allow him better access.
“Don’t make me prove you wrong, Josie.”
Her eyes flashed open, meeting his. The heat burning in his eyes was almost enough to melt her on the spot.
Trying to hold onto some semblance of control, she said, “Guys like you aren’t attracted to women like me.”
He wrapped his muscular arm around her waist and pulled her hips against his. The hard length of his cock pressed against her stomach. “Clearly my body is telling you otherwise.”
Holy cow, he really wanted her. She grinned to herself. Without thought, she shifted her body and rubbed against him, loving the way she could feel his cock thicken through his gym shorts.
He hissed in a breath. “Damn, Red.”
She leaned back, putting a little space between them and trailed her finger down the length of his chest, stopping at the waistband of his shorts. His breathing increased as he watched her finger.
“So you seriously want to have dinner with me?”
His cock twitched beneath the fabric of his shorts. He gripped her hips firmly with his hands and rubbed against her. “What I’d like is to have you for dinner but we can start with grabbing a bite to eat. You seemed a bit umm…unsure the other day so I thought you’d be more comfortable with a group thing.”
Unsure. That was one word for it. Terrified of making an ass of herself was more like it.
“So what do you say, Josie? You free tonight?”

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Gremlins by S.D. Grady

A great many things in my life have inspired me. Perhaps movies could be counted near the top. It wasn’t always happy ever after, for me. As a child, I adored the old creature feature films, many where shadows were the source of all fear. I watched Mel Brooks’ classic High Anxiety and loved all the imagery, camera angles and hidden characters…all spoofs of the greatest master of suspense, Alfred Hitchcock.

Thus when I decided to embark upon an erotic story that featured gremlins—those unseen creatures that live in the wiring—it should not surprise anyone that I placed the book in an old movie house. How many tales of fear and love crossed that silver screen in its heyday? And what of the old wiring? Does it keep memories of lights and passion?

The Silver Scream is not a tale of happy ever after, but perhaps lives closer to those suspense films of old where a great many things will happen in the course of time, many of them evil. This tale releases August 10th at Purple Sword Publications, and you will find it available at most major ebook outlets shortly thereafter.


Trapped in the wiring for decades, this Gremlin desires but one thing…and he can’t have her.

BLURB: Film school student, Gilda Albright, has taken a job in the newly refurbished Orpheum Theatre as a movie projectionist. The gem from another era prompts her imagination to take flight, and she invites her boyfriend Seth to a private screening. Looking like a movie star from the 50’s, she strips in the spotlight, ensnaring Seth’s lust and drawing the eager eyes of another to her buxom figure. The building takes on a life of its own—fear invades Gilda’s workdays. Will the unseen gremlin let her go or fulfill its erotic obsession with a vision from the past?

Visit S.D. Grady at

Monday, August 8, 2011

Random Musings


Monday, August 1, 2011

Random Musings

Author H. Jackson Brown Jr. said, "Live a good, honorable life. That way when you get older and think back, you'll get to enjoy it a second time."

KevaD says, "Live as insanely as you dare. That way when you get older and think back, you can enjoy it in Technicolor."