Kelsey Kingsley's Blog, page 3

ONE NIGHT TO FALL COVER REVEAL + EXCERPT

Well, the day is here, everybody.

The One Night to Fall cover reveal.

I am in love with this cover. I am in love with this book. I’m in love with these characters.

Add it to your Goodreads TBR NOW:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36189132-one-night-to-fall

Keep reading for an excerpt!

EXCERPT:

There was a small sliver of hope carrying me through the remainder of my workday. I thought there was a chance that Patrick would forget about the money growing more and more cumbersome in my pocket. Maybe he had gotten the unlikely emergency, calling him away from the going out he had insisted on, and when the old cuckoo clock chimed seven without so much as a rap upon the door, my hope sprang to all-out certainty with the distressing pangs of disappointment pulsing through my chest.

I hurried to lock the door, to flip the sign to CLOSED. Then, just as I was about to walk away, I saw him. He had changed out of his uniform, into jeans and a worn t-shirt that wrapped the slim frame saying he was his father’s son. The muscles it clung to and emphasized said he worked out and liked everybody to know it.

Arrogant Irish bastard.

I pretended to not notice him as I secured the lock, and I continued to pretend as I turned from the glass paneled door. He knew I had seen him, and I knew a smirk would blanket his face as he softly knocked on the metal frame. I wondered for a moment if I just continued to pretend, whether he would eventually walk away. But Patrick was persistent, always had been. And so, with reluctance and niggling excitement, I unlocked the door.

“Good evenin’, Kinsey Kinney,” he said in that gravelly voice belonging to his father, stepping inside as I closed the door behind him.

Locking the door again made me feel trapped, stuck, and like limitless possibilities had been laid out in front of him. But, I followed the rules, and the rules said I had to lock the door when the store was closed.

“Don’t ever call me that again.”

He cocked his head to the side, scratching the back of his neck. “So, you won’t be takin’ my last name?”

My head fell backward with a groan.

“Hey,” he said, shrugging those broad shoulders, “I’m just wondering what I’m supposed to call ya after we’re married.”

“In two seconds, I’m giving you your money, and making you leave.”

He held his hands up in surrender. I stole a glance at his ring finger, and I wondered if he ever missed it: the wedding ring. How long his hand had felt naked without it, if he had agonized over pulling it off and casting it aside forever.

“Okay, okay. Keep your last name. That’s cool. Very progressive.”

The truth was, I was never going to make him leave, and he knew it. Not when his blonde hair was styled like that, like he had just rolled out of bed. Not when his permanent five o’clock shadow clung onto his jawline for sweet life. Not when his holey jeans hung low on his hips and that strip of abdominal skin came into view when he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Not when I missed the way it felt to be so alone with him, so close.

Patrickinney. Peanut butter on the roof of my mouth.

Calling All Book Reviewers!

Hey, hey guys!

So, if you follow me on Instagram or Facebook, then you know that I have a novella coming out in December.

One Night to Fall is a second chance at a romance between childhood best friends Officer Patrick Kinney and Kinsey McKenna, and if you review books, I want you to be a part of the release. Doesn’t that make you feel special?

First of all, you can add One Night to Fall to your Goodreads TBR now:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36189132-one-night-to-fall

Second of all, you can sign up for the promotional goodness!

To sign up for the cover reveal and promotional fun with InkSlinger PR, click below:

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSegD-Y7YRNbSt2pqee0OfmEOOW5GIJJesD2p4mhZE5k2aXSXg/viewform

To sign up for promotional coverage with Indies Ink, click below:

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfURvZMTtF3BbA01RQ1sVw0nbduBpyfAXxtn94DWt9vaRe8kQ/viewform

I hope you’ll join me in celebrating the release of my next book!

Kelsey

One Night to Fall: First Chapter

Surprise!

I’ve been teasing the next full-length novel I’ll be releasing, but I’ve kept this little project a pretty well hidden secret (unless, you know, you follow me on Twitter or Instagram, which you should).

One Night to Fall is my first novella, and also the first book that will be in a series of books about a little town called River Canyon. It’s the story about Kinsey McKenna, a 32-year-old deli worker, and Patrick Kinney, also 32-years-old and one of twelve cops in River Canyon. It’s a story of firsts, and second chances.

I also hear it’ll make you feel all the feels, but you know, you can be the judge of that.

READ THE FIRST CHAPTER HERE.

You can add One Night to Fall to your Goodreads TBR here:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36189132-one-night-to-fall

Dear Lucy

Hey Lulu,

So, it’s been two years. Just thinking about the time breaks my heart a little. Okay, let’s be real – it breaks my heart a lot. I mean, two years ago today, it was hard to imagine time continuing at all, let alone two years worth of it, but… Here we are.

But you know, the funny thing about time is that, it really doesn’t make some things easier. It doesn’t make some things hurt any less. Time doesn’t behave as a permanent solution; stitches to the wound. No… Time is nothing more than one of those shitty fabric Band-aids that refuses to stay on in the shower. The little fuckers keep falling off, and I just keep buying more. Maybe one day I’ll remember to pick up the waterproof kind, or maybe I like that it still hurts – some days, a little; other days, a lot. Maybe I like that I always have that nagging reminder of what, who I lost.

My four-legged soulmate.

My Lucy Tucy.

I still remember that day like it was yesterday.

Wait, no, I remember everything leading up to that day. The day I got you. The days you slept in a laundry basket because you were too small to be left on your own. The days you’d get hyper as fuck because I was listening to Hanson. The day you managed to get into the crawlspace. The days I didn’t put you first, and the days I spent regretting it. The days you were there when nobody else was. The days we’d dance together, and the days we’d do nothing but play WoW. The days I was sick and you were there, the days I felt great and you were there, and the days when I couldn’t get myself out of my own head…and you were there.

The day you weren’t yourself.

The day I lived with you in the bathroom, singing to you and telling you the story of us.

And then, the day we said goodbye, and those blessed few moments when I first woke up, and I almost believed everything was okay.

God, Lu, that first year was hell. You don’t even know, or hey, maybe you do, but I’m telling you anyway. It was horrible, that first year. I questioned everything. I drove myself insane. All those miserable nights, all those fake-smile days. Thank God for Keegan, right? Thank God for Ethel, right? Thank God for everything that managed to keep me afloat, right?

This past year was a little different. This past year was a little more about living, wasn’t it? I mean, a lot has changed. Karen had another baby, Ethel’s become a really good friend, and I am obscenely obsessed with Outlander. And that book I was always writing? It’s done, it’s out. That other book? That draft is done, it’s ready to be finished. All those short stories I was writing? They’re on their way. I’m living one of those dreams I always wished you’d be there for, but… I guess you still are. I just wish I could feel you at night.

Anyway, my baby butt, I just wanted to say hi. I wanted to let you know that this day still sucks, will always suck, and I’m thinking about you. I’m always thinking about you. I hope I never stop hearing you, seeing you out of the corner of my eye, and I hope I never stop slipping your name into songs.

I’ll see you later, Lucy. I miss you.

I love you.

You will rest your head, your strength once saving.

And when you wake you will fly away,

holding tight to the legs of all your angels.

Goodbye my love, into your blue, blue eyes,

in your blue, blue world, you and me forever.

-Dave Matthews Band, “Baby Blue”

Usable Songs

Yesterday, I saw John Mayer for the second time this year. Not sure if it’s caught on yet, but I am a massive fan of music, in particular live music. There is nothing that makes me feel more alive than live music. Absolutely nothing.

So, John Mayer is one of my absolute favorites. The guy is, in my opinion, a lyrical and musical genius. The guy writes these songs that force me to play them over and over again, listening intently until a story has been born in my head and I have to write it down. The guy is, for lack of a better word, a muse in my life, brought to me in the form of his songs.

If you haven’t read ENOUGH, then let me tell you right now, it was inspired by his song “Edge of Desire.” It was the first bit of writing that I publicly released, putting it out there despite the fear and self-doubt. It will always hold a special place in my heart, and so will John Mayer for writing the song that made it happen.

Anyway, the first time I had seen Mr. Mayer this year, I had been harassing him for months beforehand, asking him to play “Edge of Desire.” I needed to hear this song live, it having such special meaning to me and all. But as luck would have it, he didn’t play it.

That was fine, though, because shortly after, I bought tickets for another of his shows. This time, I harassed him for months, asking for a completely different song, which he also didn’t play. And you know what? Maybe I should just stop harassing the guy, because he obviously has some issues listening to requests, but that’s not what this post is about. This post is about something else. This post is those “simply meant to be” moments, those “this was no coincidence” moments in life that make you think, “Holy crap,” and make you want to cry.



So, there I was, a little peeved that he wasn’t playing “Wildfire.” One song after the next, I’d look to my sister with nagging disappointment, and then we’d proceed to enjoy whatever song he did play, because seriously, the guy doesn’t have a bad song. They just weren’t the song I wanted (cue selfish whining here).

This was the course of the night, until one song. I heard the drums, heard the guitar riffs, and I turned to my sister with reluctant acknowledgment. Her face wore a similar look of uncertainty before she finally said, “Oh my God, ‘Edge of Desire!'” And guys… I flipped my shit. It took everything I had to not break down right then and there, because it was my song. My song that he hardly ever plays, my song that I begged him for the first time around. He played my song and it was so unbelievably good. Like, one of those “perfect concert songs,” if you know what I mean. It meant everything just to hear that song live, to be there in that crowd.

But then, a funny thing happened. He made a little speech after that song, that song about how he loves that he has such “usable songs.” Songs that people “use.” He said that he loves to hear the stories that people have behind those songs, his songs, and I. Lost. My. Shit.

Well, okay, exaggeration right there because I’m not one of those outwardly emotional people, but inwardly… Yeah. Shit was lost. Shit is still missing. Shit is floating around somewhere, waiting to be found, and I’m sitting here, writing this post because I can’t get over that odd little coincidence. What are the chances? I mean, the likelihood of this guy actually reading my story is slim. The likelihood of knowing I was in that audience last night is even slimmer. But it was just one of those cosmic moments, you know? One of those “meant to be” moments where you just know, you just know, that sometimes things line up and you are in the exact place you’re supposed to be at the exact time you’re supposed to be there.

That moment will live forever in me, J. Mayer. Thank you.

Becoming an Aunt: An Excerpt

Today, August 17th, marks the second birthday of my best little buddy, my nephew Keegan. He is the most special little kid I know. The smartest, the funniest, the cutest, the absolute coolest with the most awesome Aunt Steppies a kid could ask for.

Nothing wrong with a little self-flattery every now and then, right?

Anywho, there are a million things I could say about him, my little Bloop Bloop, but I don’t think WordPress has the capacity to handle a post like that. So, instead I thought I would post another excerpt from my current work in progress, Sleeping to Dream. It seemed to be the most fitting to share on this day, and I hope you enjoy.

“Ashley is pregnant,” I said with a giddy smile. His face fell and the movement of the currycomb came to a stop. The bearded jaw dropped open, closed, and dropped again. “I know, right? I’m so exci—”

“Andrea,” he said sternly, placing the comb on a bucket nearby and came to stand before me. I briefly imagined him forcefully spreading my legs and … “I had expected the field of medicine and surgery to have expanded. Certainly, there have been some improvements over all these years—hell, I would hope so, but bloody Christ, I never would have expected—or hoped—to know of a time in which a man can bear a child. That is … that is against all human nature and I don’t think I can—no, I won’t stand to hear any more of it.” A hand came to rest over his mouth, as though afraid he was about to be sick, when he noticed my eyes had crinkled with laughter. “And what in God’s name do you find so funny about this? Honestly, Andrea, I—”

“William, this has to be the hundredth time I’ve told you. Ashley is my sister-in-law,” I laughed.

He threw his head backward and groaned. “Oh, bloody hell. Why can I not remember this?” With a shake of his head, he looked to me with apology. “I’m sorry, lass. Allow me to start over.”

And with that, he stepped forward, and as I spread my legs to accommodate his size against me, he wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace. My head tipped back to look up into his smiling face, and he said, “That is wonderful news, Andrea. Please extend my congratulations to your brother and his wife.” He bent down, lightly brushing his lips against mine, and pulled away abruptly. “But … I thought she was barren?”

I explained her condition and its fickle tendencies to make getting pregnant difficult, or even impossible for some. I told him that with consistent treatment, it can make it easier to conceive a child, and it apparently had been enough for Ashley to finally get pregnant after all those years of fruitless trying. William responded with a soft kiss on my lips, as light as a feather, before speaking in a gentle voice.

“Or perhaps it was just simply meant to be,” he said.

I shook my head. “There’s more to it than that. You know, it’s scientific. The doctors knew the reasons why she didn’t get pregnant before, and the reasons why she got pregnant now, and—”

His rough hands cupped my face as he smiled with amusement. “Ah, yes, your precious doctors and scientists. Tell me, lass, what reasons would they have for what’s happening between us?”

Unblinking, I navigated the stars in his eyes, searching for an answer to his question for the sake of being right. I mean, science had a reason behind everything, didn’t it? Scientists and their lab coats, making us believe they had the definitive answers until the next round of answers came along to prove those old answers wrong. It was the way of the world—my world—and we, as people, are conditioned to question everything, to look to them—the scientists in their lab coats—for the answers.

But what answer was there for this? There was none, and William’s eyes laughed at me as I retreated, dropping my gaze to his chest.

“As I said, Andrea,” he said, kissing my forehead. “Simply meant to be.” And with that, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me from the low wall. “Now, come. Let’s have a drink in celebration of your becoming an aunt.”

I laughed as he took me by the hand, interlocking his large fingers with mine, and led me from the stable. “Oh, come on. I mean, I’m happy to have a niece or nephew, but it’s not like I’m having the baby. Being an aunt isn’t as special as having my own kid.”

As we neared the backdoor of the house, William stopped walking and turned to me. Sadness was hidden behind his adoring smile, and as he brought a hand up to cradle my cheek with a gentle stroking of his thumb, he said, “I never did have the chance to father children, so I cannot attest to how special that could have been. But I can tell you from experience that becoming an uncle and helping to raise that boy was …” He dipped his head, taking a deep, emotion-cleansing breath, and looked back to me. “It was truly the most important role I played in my life.”

I swallowed a ball that had at some point formed in my throat at the thought of Willie, that almost forgotten article, the information I had tucked into a corner of my brain. “William, I—”

He shushed me with his thumb, passing over my lips with unintended sensuality. “Andrea, I don’t know if you’ll ever be blessed enough to find yourself a mother. Shamefully, I shudder to think of you with another man in your bed, but … I do hope that you will experience the joy of being an aunt in the way that I had as an uncle, and realize that you play as crucial of a part in that child’s life as if you were his or her mother. It’s just … It’s just different, and it’s wonderful.”

© 2017 Kelsey Kingsley

Giveaway Alert!

Hey there, dear readers. I have a little bit o’ exciting news to share with you all.

Over on Goodreads, there’s a Holly Freakin’ Hughes giveaway happening right this second. It will end on the 19th, so be sure to check it out now if you’re interested.

I promise a real entry will be coming soon. Been a wee bit busy, you know what I mean?

Goodreads Book Giveaway







Holly Freakin' Hughes



by Kelsey Kingsley

Giveaway ends August 19, 2017.

See the giveaway details

at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/widget/249157

Holly Freakin’ Hughes is LIVE!

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Today is the day, folks. Today is the day that Holly Freakin’ Hughes went live on Amazon. Today is the day I feel like a real author. It’s an incredible feeling, it’s a stressful feeling, it’s…honestly amazing.

It’s funny, actually. I was saying to my sisters earlier that I feel as though something big should have changed in the world on this day. A shifting of the planets or a changing of the Earth’s overall climate. Something, anything. Yet, I woke up today, and everything seemed the same. The time still changed as it always had, the humidity fogged up my eyeballs the way that it always did in the middle of the ass-swampy summer… Initially, I’ll be honest – I was disappointed. I mean, in my mind, there should have been parades. Fireworks. Air shows. Where was the goddamn marching band, trumpeting a rousing rendition of “We Are the Champions”?

But then… Sitting here, on my bed, working on the next book… I felt it. The world is different, if only in a small way. Because you know why? I’m out there now. I’ve made my debut, and this is only the beginning.

You can order Holly Freakin’ Hughes NOW on Amazon HERE:

AMAZON US: ttp://a.co/70HgDOm

AMAZON UK: http://amzn.eu/03QdR4k

AMAZON CA: http://a.co/22KxJni

In William’s Room: An Excerpt

The release date for Holly Freakin’ Hughes is approaching at lightning speed, guys. I can hardly believe it’s coming so fast. Like, where the hell is all this time going? We all say it, but…damn. Seriously nuts.

Now, I know the book isn’t even officially released yet, but I want to tell you guys a little something… I’m already working on the next book, and it’s well underway. Holly Freakin’ Hughes is intended to be a series, a trilogy at least, but this next book will be something else entirely. Something more, uh, paranormal. Something more…historical? More lovey-dovey? More sickeningly sweet? I don’t know what to even call it, honestly. It’s something completely different than anything I’ve ever done in all of my, uh, thirty-something years of throwing story ideas around. To be honest, I fucking love it and I am pumped as all hell to let y’all read it. But for now, I’m going to leave you with a little excerpt of what will be titled Sleeping to Dream, the story of Drew McAdams and William Fuller.

I hope y’all enjoy.

The room was dark with only a single sliver of moonlight streaming over the bed to illuminate the heavy rise and fall of his chest. Before my thoughts could creep into a darker place, I wondered what determined the rise and fall of the sun in that world. It seemed to make little sense, and certainly didn’t always follow the same timeline that it did on Earth. It was just one of those things I couldn’t understand, I figured, and decided to add that to the pile of questions I’d maybe one day receive answers to.

With a heavy sigh and a swallow of a lump rising in my throat, I took a step into the room. The soft snoring grew louder as I neared his sleeping body, and I stared with the intensity of a mother watching her newborn.

He was beautiful, I found myself thinking as I admired the structure of his face; illuminated and shadowed by the moonbeams. I resisted the urge to reach out and touch him just yet, not wanting to disturb him from his peaceful slumber, and so I imagined the touch of his skin under my fingertips. Warm, and simultaneously rough and soft; the skin of a man who wasn’t afraid to work with his hands and body. His body… My eyes wandered the length of him, over the curves and bulges of hard muscle along his torso, and down to the breeches that had given him a fight just the night before.

I laughed softly at the memory and felt a rush of warmth between my legs at the thought of what almost happened between us. What was sure to happen eventually, I thought, unless …

And there it was. The reminder of his salvation, and our impending doom, if what we believed was correct; that if he were to know what happened to his nephew, he would be set free to move on to … whatever came next. But where did that leave me? My selfish brain rolled through every bad feeling I knew I was destined to suffer through. Heartache, loneliness, sadness, abandonment. All those familiar emotions that I hated so much, and avoided like the goddamn plague.

They always leave, I repeated, and what made him any different?

I held a hand against the footboard of his bed, steadying myself as I drew in a breath of quavering air. I reminded myself that I wanted to help him, I wanted to give him what he needed to move on, and I hadn’t stopped wanting those things. But dammit, dammit, dammit, I hadn’t expected to care so much for him. I hadn’t anticipated that I could …

No, I shook my head, pushing the thought from my head, and instead wondered why I had to always be the one to let go.

With my eyes pooling with shameful tears, I rounded the bed. My eyes fell upon the gentle expansion and collapse of his bare chest, and without a moment’s hesitation I ran my fingertips through the coarse tangles of his chest hair. He stirred just a little, rolling his head over the pillow to face my direction. My hand moved up over his neck, onto his face, and I laid beside him to press my lips against his; all to remind myself that we were there, we were alive, and we were together.

“Mm.” His voice caught in his throat with the weight of sleep still sitting heavily over him. He opened his eyes, and searched my face in the dim moonlight with startled amusement. “You’re a bold woman to invite yourself into a man’s bed, lass,” he teased with a knee-weakening lopsided smile, before noticing the glimmer of a tear rolling down my cheek.

A hand reached up to brush the tear away with his thumb, and I leaned into the touch, attempting to swallow the rest. But those thoughts—those damn thoughts—persisted, whispering to me that those moments were fleeting, sliding through my fingers like grains of sand.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked softly, gathering more of my tears as they trickled into the palm of his hand.

I sniffled and made a feeble attempt at smiling despite it all. I moved over him, resting my head against his chest, and closed my eyes to the steady sound of his heartbeat. William’s fingers ran through my hair, and he asked again what was wrong; his voice rumbling up through his chest and into my ear.

“Nothing,” I said, and I knew he sensed I was lying.

Still, he didn’t pry, allowing me the freedom to tell him on my own accord. “Well, can I get you something to drink? Wine, or whis—”

I shook my head against him, and wrapped an arm around his waist. “No, I just … I just want to lie here and feel you breathe for a little while, if that’s okay.” I struggled to say the words through the boulder in my throat. My tears ran into the hair on his chest, dampening the skin under my face.

His chest puffed out with a deep sigh, and I knew he understood. Exhaling completely, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me against him. His lips touched the top of my head, kissing softly as he inhaled the scent of my hair.

“All right, lass,” he whispered, and we laid there in that single beam of moonlight, reminding ourselves that, at least for the time being, we were there, we were alive, and we were together, until we fell asleep.

© 2017 Kelsey Kingsley

After All: A Book Review

After All by Karina Halle

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I really don’t know how I feel about this book. I don’t even know how to write this review. But let’s give it a try, shall we?

I immediately liked the lead male character. He had a good backstory, good motivation to be the way he is, and I liked him. The lead female, though… I didn’t like her. Up until the very end of the story, I didn’t like her. She was whiny with little to redeem her personality, and it remained that way. The constant back-and-forth between the two main characters was tiresome and eventually annoying. I felt that zero progress was ever made. The moment they moved forward was the same moment they took a step backward, and while that was probably the intent of the author, it was so unbelievably irritating up until the very end.

Now, aside from that, I enjoyed the overall story. It was cute. I liked it. But good Lord, the editing…

I have absolutely nothing against the author that wrote this book, so please be aware of that when I say, things like this are what give indie novelists a bad name. This book can only be described as sloppy. This has nothing to do with the writer. This is the fault of whatever editor she used who clearly cannot do their job correctly. The story was sloppy, the writing was sloppy, punctuation… Also sloppy. It’s a shame, really, when it could have been great given a better editor.

I do recommend checking this author and book out, if you haven’t and if you can get beyond the constant need to correct the grammar, spelling, and punctuation mistakes.

View all my reviews