K. Alex Walker's Blog, page 4

Delgano by K. Alex Walker: A Dark Contemporary Romance (Angels and Assassins Series)

When “they” found him, it was in the middle of a Mexican desert burying a body…

But it’s not as if it’s the worst thing Adrían Delgano has ever done during his time as an enforcer for a major Brazilian cartel. Yet, the fact remains that someone took him down with a tranq, abducted him, and then dropped him off in Morocco, in a villa, surrounded by armed guards around the clock.

And he doesn’t know who “they” are.

All he knows is that his options are limited:

Join a paramilitary ghost squad he knows next to nothing about Be auctioned off to law enforcement agencies around the globe Be branded as a narc and left to face an enemy cartel’s firing squad

Regardless, the idea of being part of a weaponized, vengeance-seeking, clandestine unit intrigues him. Plus, it comes with perks: weapons, money, a woman he’s fairly certain he can’t trust, and another he finds himself trusting too easily.

Given that he and Hannah, another recruit, started off as enemies, it’s not surprising that he eventually keeps her close. 

Almost too close. 

But it’s not Hannah who makes him want to be a hero, a protector—two things he's never been. It’s the unassuming chef who cares too much. The one with the eyes and the voice and the touch. 

The one with the fake name.

04.15.2024

Murder, Mayhem, and Mafias, Oh My!

It's 2024.

A new year.

And, with a new year comes new books. 

I've already shared this in my Patreon group because they get things early, as well as inside scoops and exclusive stories about dark fairy tales involving female Zulu warriors and shifters whose names are forbidden to be spoken.

But here's what I'd originally planned for this year:

Now, no one's met Gabriel. His story's been sitting on my iCloud drive since before I started Prince of the Brotherhood. It's a paranormal with wormholes, a female geneticist just released from a mental hospital, alternate universes, and deadly plagues. 

(I’m into science…and plagues.)

However, I realized that if I stuck to this schedule, I'd actually be planning six books instead of four. At optimal health, even five (full-length) is a bit of an undertaking. So, I had to go back to the writing dungeon to strategize, and Gabriel told me that he, personally, doesn't think the reading world's ready for his mighty…sword…just yet.

So, here's what I came up with:

I’ll add once I remember where I got the Mori & Gabriel photos from.

Note: These aren't in planned release order.

The reason it would have been six books is because Mori & Michelle's story has a present and a past. In their past lives, they're Lord Masahi, a samurai who gets lost at sea after the Mongol Invasion, and Nyota, a princess and mathematician of a 13th-century African empire. In their present lives, they're Mori Masahiko, Yakuza boss, and Michelle Stewart-Gardner, an art thief masquerading as a shy museum worker.

I know what you're probably thinking: "How is she going to combine the Mongol invasion of Japan and Africa in the 1200s?" 

Artfully, I hope.

Then, at the time of planning the stories, I didn't know which one I would start with. A lot of readers have been waiting for Mori's story, and a lot of readers want Adrían's story. However, I've had time to ponder, and I now have a numero uno.

Adrían Delgano's story will be the first of 2024.

Now, if you're familiar with The PowerPuff Girls, there's an episode where their father, Professor Utonium, is all happy-go-lucky and "everything's swell" when the girls are awake. But, once he puts the girls to bed, his shoulders droop, and his legs drag. No longer can he hide how tired he truly is, but he continues to put on a face just for them. 

Ladies and gentlemen:

Am I too tired to write?

Thank goodness, I'm not. 

I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I was, but I do need to rest more often.

In Professor Utonium's case, all he needed was a little bit of . Personally, I think a man right now would give me 7 more autoimmune diseases, 6 of which were previously undiscovered but can be directly linked to his foolishness.

It's why I went with Adrían's book first. I started both his and Mori's novels and let nature take its course, and Adrían's story kept jumping ahead. 

While Adrían isn't an entirely new character, I realized his origin story hasn't been written. That's why I'm going to release his intro story, Delgano, first. 

(This is where the six books come in.)

And yes, I know, I know. 

Some of you would rather have a looooong book for Adrían's official debut rather than his official Omega recruitment and then what happens after Requiem and how he meets Sayeda, but here's the compromise: it works really well right now for this funky season of my life, and I'm still able to produce content for you all to enjoy without going full Utonium.

Also, when I wrote it, I realized it didn't mesh the way I wanted it to with his main story, which is why I decided to make it its own thing instead of breaking it up into parts like The Shadow. See, in The Shadow, the focus was completely on Mike and Xara with a continuation of the same characters (Val, Ant, Fang Jinhai, etc.) 

However, there's something uniquely sad about Adrían's character that makes his circumstances different. It's like…you need to torture him a bit before a payoff. Take a little here, a lot there…

Break his heart.

Patch it up.

Break it again.

I'm so  sweet, aren't I?

I'll have a release date for you all soon. As you know, there are many moving parts to this book release process, and you gotta make sure everything's ready before you go throwing dates out.

Thanks so much for working with me.

Love you, love you, love you!

Oh, and one more thing!

Over time, I'll be revisiting the A&A series. I haven't really gone back through the series since their first publication (I believe Gage's story was published close to 9 years ago now, back when I was but a 'toddlauthor'). I'm not changing the stories, at all, but going back through them myself, I've noticed some things that need tightening up, if you will. 

For the people who asked/were curious because I tend to lose DMs: 

1) You can 100% pronounce Saraçi as Sara-see. Because he's Turkish, they pronounce "ç" with more of a /ch/ sound, so it would officially be Sara-chee, but even though I wrote it, I hear "see" more often in my head because I first learned of the cedilla in French. The question remains of whether you want to go with what's in my head. It's often not safe in there.

2) So, you could argue that I "technically" had to learn English to an extent because Patois is the language officially spoken in parts of the West Indies where my family still is/where I was born. That's why I might use proper names for certain things, like opossums, because  I learned the word in a more official context (a book or encyclopedia). I don't think we had either possums or opossums (I believe Trinidad might??), but we for sure had mongoose…mongooses…mongeese…you get the point.

When I use opossum (or possum in U.S. slang), I’m still referring to the little fanged, beady-eyed monsters we often see here in the United States that can catch these hands any day of the week except Sunday. Officially, possums are adorable, fluffy creatures that you find in primarily in Australia, not those demons who used to live under the shed in my parents' backyard.

(Photo courtesy of: https://a-z-animals.com/)

✨It’s Live! 📚✨

Free on Kindle Unlimited

In the event it’s not searchable for you on Amazon, feel free to use the above button link.

The Vegas Lie – Release Date – Nov. 24th

So, what do I have planned for the remainder of 2023?

Seeing as how this year’s been ripe with assassins and mafiosos, I wanted my last planned release of this year to be a fun love story.

Contemporary.

Steamy.

Quirky.

And I adore this cover.

::happy dance::

When what happened in Vegas never actually did…

Release Date: TBA

She’d traveled to the other side of the country, to Sin City, and ran into Lucas Saraci. 

Yet again. 

They ran in similar circles, had similar interests. A huge biological sciences and medicine expo was being held in Las Vegas, so it made perfect sense that they might run into each other. However, something as simple as an unexpected encounter wasn’t the reason this man would eventually bring about the end of Raina Daniels’ life. 

It was the lie. 

The lie she told herself.

The lie she told nearly everyone.

This man was Hades incarnate, but it wasn’t until she woke up in his arms, in her hotel suite, to him stroking her hair that she finally admitted she secretly aspired to be his Persephone.

“Saraci, please tell me we didn’t.”

He raised his left hand. On his fourth finger sat a silver band with what appeared to be a rose-gold interior, the details on his ring a perfect match to hers.

“We got married,” he said, with none of the panic or anger she would have expected, considering he’d drunk-married her, of all people. “You don’t remember?”

She clutched at her chest. “We got…what?”

“We were both drinking. Honestly, I don’t remember much either.” He lowered his hand to her hip. “But don’t worry. It’s okay. We’ll get it annulled.”

“Are you sure?”

He craned his neck to see her better. “Do you want to stay married to me?”

Yes.

I do.

Very much.

“I…don’t,” she said.

“Then we’ll get an annulment.” 

“You really don’t remember anything?”

He shook his head. “I don’t. Do you?”

Of course, she did.

She remembered everything.

She remembered going to the jeweler, buying the rings. She remembered the poker game that led to them standing outside the chapel with its wooden brown exterior and sky-high turret. She remembered, quite clearly, walking into that wooden chapel, down the empty aisle with her hand in his, and then marrying the nemesis of her life—completely sober.

* * * * *

That was another thing he despised about this woman. 

Everyone saw him as Lucas Saraci, MD. His backstory, the one he’d created to have equal footing in the circles he now ran in, was that his family immigrated from Bulgaria to Turkey in the mid-fifties when his mother was a child to escape forced assimilation and ethnic cleansing. 

Despite the odds, they prevailed.

Eventually, when he was a child, they immigrated to the United States, and as far as anyone was concerned, he came from a family of successful individuals. He had four siblings: another physician, an attorney, an engineer, and his youngest sister was in the Navy. His mother was a retired history professor, and his father was a retired businessman—an “American Dream” success story. 

To everyone else, he fit in.

When it came to Raina Daniels, he stumbled into the truth. 

She yawned into the back of her hand. “I probably only have a few minutes before makeup and wardrobe storm in here. Are you sure you want to do this now?”

“Did you look up the annulment requirements?” he asked.

“Not yet. I was too busy preparing for, ” she yawned again, “Fashion Week. Have you?”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

Because he wanted to stay married to her.

Because he wanted her to be his wife.

“Work,” he said.

“Honestly?” She graced him with a tired smile. “I’m still in a state of shock that we did it. I mean, how cliché is that? Getting drunk in Vegas and waking up married.”

It was cliché.

At least, it would have been.

Had he been drunk at the time.

Although they're not entirely new characters, it's definitely a standalone.

Author Feature: Tamala C. JonesOne fake wedding, coming right up!

I blame my Southern manners.

I was too polite to call James Marin a liar when our one-night stand was interrupted by his mother. So when he labeled me his fiancée, I went along with it.

What was supposed to be a no-strings-attached stress relief is now a 90-day arrangement to save his inheritance. 

The terms of the agreement give me and Bibi the money we need to save our house…so how can I say no?

But now, I’m caught between putting my life on hold, married to this sinfully sexy, grey-eyed rich boy, and trying not to slip into a fantasy that can’t possibly last.  

When the unthinkable happens, will old fears send our time together racing toward heartbreak?

Get Your Free Book!

(This is a BW/HM novel…get ready for the heat!)

Requiem For Love

I didn’t want to make you all wait too long, and this is a hefty book, so I hope it satisfies your need for Joel & Ayesha. As usual, thank you for reading, thank you for your support, and I’ll be taking a small writing break. I’m trying something new. Something called “rest.”

However, I’ll be back soon.

Please enjoy.

More and more, it felt like Ayesha Savea could be the love of his life, and that knowledge saddled him with a ridiculous amount of guilt when he thought about what had been taken from her for them to get here.

“I also had to deal with you not having feelings for me,” he said. “With you shutting me down when we had our ‘fight’ after I found out about Sydney and Kofi.”

She frowned. “You think I didn’t have feelings for you?”

“You didn’t.”

“Joel, I lov—” She wagged a finger at him. “Oh, you think you’re slick, don’t you?”

He grinned. “What were you about to say?”

“I was about to say that I’m not sure where you’re going to sleep. There’s the guest room, in the bed with me, or in the bed with me, inside me.”

Blood rushed to his groin. “Inside you where?”

“Wherever you want to put it, babe.”

“You sure about that? You might choke.”

“Then I’ll choke.”

Free on Kindle Unlimited

A Quick Life Update

I will do my best to make it brief, but I do understand that brief for writers is a little different. Content Warning: I'll touch on depression and suicidal ideation, and this is the most candid I think I've been because I always say, "I'm okay," even when I'm not.

First off:

Earlier this year, I moved into my own place for the very first time in my life. Now, I know, I know…this isn't much of a big deal, but it's considered taboo in my "social environment," especially since I'm unmarried, and I was living with family. For a while, let's just say, I was not well-liked by a few select relatives.

The reason I moved:

Last year, I told Kenya Wright that I was sending her some documents early because I had surgery scheduled. There was a possibility after the surgery that I would have to undergo treatment for the big C, so I wanted to get things squared away should that end up being the case. I wasn't expecting her to make the post she did, and I'm grateful because, although I have family nearby, I'm alone. 

All the time.

I never thought you guys would be as supportive as you were, and I didn't realize how much I needed it. Again, thank you so much. Sometimes, when you're quiet, you get mislabeled as rude, uppity, and standoffish, but I promise you all, I appreciated every single comment, email, and DM.

Okay, back to the story.

At this point, I thought my issue was chronic, severe anemia. My body would shoot a middle finger at iron pills, so I had to take shots of liquid iron like it was Jose Cuervo. See, the thing inside me was a bleeder, and I figured, once it's out, I'll do what I have to do, treat what I have to treat, and I'll be all right.

So, fast forward to November. 

The surgery went extremely well. They gave me Valium, and I flirted with the anesthesiologist. I learned I could be treated with an IUD, so they put one in, and I was 100% certain that I was on my way back to "normal." Still, I found that I wasn't able to climb stairs. I couldn't walk around Publix. I could barely move more than a few steps without needing to sit down. 

During all this, my sister was ill, and if I can be honest, my family expects too much of me. They expect sacrifice. If someone was aiming a gun at all of us, they would either look to me or my father to take the bullet.

Can you tell I don't care anymore if they read my blog? Is it…obvious?

I couldn't be sick if my sister was ill or the world would catch on fire. If I didn't heal her ailments, the world would catch on fire. She needed me more than everyone else. I was the only person who could fix things, and truth be told, I was ready to watch the world burn. I had an iron level of 4, despite my ferrous shots of Jose Cuervo, and yet…"You have to help your sister."

Regardless, my sister's illness took precedence. So, I suffered in private. When out and about, I hid my fatigue as best as I could.

Then, one morning, I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and something just felt wrong. I didn't look right. I didn't look well. I see a therapist, and I remember telling her, "I feel like I'm dying, and no one is listening to me." 

I got so depressed that I wasn't interested in food or water.

That's when I decided to move.

See, part of that depression came from my living environment. I was in survival mode, and my therapist always says, "Humans weren't meant to thrive in survival mode. You're doing your best, and you've come a long way. Acknowledge that." 

Moving, in overpriced Tampa, was a huge financial risk, but when I found myself googling things such as "Does dying hurt," I knew there was a more significant risk to consider.

The turning point:

I went to see an integrative medicine doctor, and he ran an ANS (Autonomic Nervous System) test. Based on the results, he asked me to return in three days because he wanted to do more research. Then, once I did, he asked me, "Do you have Lyme disease?"

I told him I didn't think so.

"An autoimmune disease?"

Not that I knew of.

And it was confusing for him because I was "too young" for the results of the ANS test. Those were results he'd expect to see in 65, 70+-year-olds. Then he stared at me with a particular look, shook his head, and said, "No, we can reverse this. We have to be able to reverse this. We have time. You're too young."

I heard what he didn't say.

Now freaked the eff out, I started doing my own research. Then, I created a symptom matrix. At the same time, I asked my new PCP to test me for an autoimmune illness (my former PCP was, for lack of a better word, Satan), and she said "yes," without hesitation and ran every single test she could.

We hit the bulls-eye.

"This pattern suggests something called 'Mixed Connective Tissue Disease.'" 

From what I understand, MCTD is when you have several different, specific, autoimmune diseases at the same time. Based on my symptoms, my combo leans toward SLE, polymyositis, and possibly Sjogren's, only because Sjogren's has abandonment issues and can't be alone. Blessedly, at the moment, I don't really have definitive symptoms of Sjogren's, but I have a whole boatload of testing left to do that will tell me, for sure, what's going on in this little body of mine. 

Also, guess why I'm anemic? 

My immune system's destroying my red blood cells.

Ba-doom.

Always the overachiever, this one.

Now, I say "from what I understand" because I learned that all the final-total-bottom line official stuff has to come from a rheumatologist, who didn't have an opening until late October. 

How am I, really?

Tired as f*ck.

Y'all, I'm so tired.

Then, as of writing this, I've had a low-grade fever hanging out at 100.8 for ten blankety-blanking days that I simply "have to ride out."

However, B12 supplements help with energy, and my doctor's office started doing shots. In the interim, I've been making steady changes to my diet in terms of inflammatory foods and taking a few supplements. I'll be honest, I was skeptical, but turmeric works so well that it's treating things I didn't know were issues. When you've been forgetful and kind of a busy brain your entire life, brain fog isn't noticeable, but whoo…I had some cirrus, cumulus, and nimbus clouds all up in my skull.

Honestly, it was a tough decision to move out. Ish is expensive right now, and I'm still in the childhood stages of my writing career. Then I moved out only to discover that my body was attacking itself, and there are days where it's hard not to feel like it's punishment for seeking autonomy and independence. 

Still, these past few weeks are the best I've felt, emotionally & physically, in years. If I hadn't moved, I would have likely ended the year chained to a hospital bed (because if they try to admit me, I will run).

 * * * * *

This wasn't the life update I hoped to make, but I realized that you guys love these stories, and it's important to let you know when certain significant life events happen. For someone who's alone all the time, if something happens and I have to take a break from writing, if you don't know I've been sick, it's akin to falling off the face of the earth.

Despite the fever and fatigue, I'm okay.

What's that saying?

Right as rain?

At times, I do hurt. Sometimes, everything hurts. These days, I let myself cry. From time to time, I get scared. The image I held of my future's a bit blurry now. Then I have those, "Who could love someone like me with all this stuff going on," moments, but then my brain hits back with, "everyone but assholes, and we're not dating assholes anymore, FYI."

But I'm good.

I swear. 

I haven't felt this happy in a long, long time.

A Fighting Chance by K. Alex Walker

Look Who's Here!

I know I keep saying this, about every couple, but Joel and Ayesha are up there in the favorites. Then you add in Theo and Josiah, who are younger in A Fighting Chance than they are in Hidden In the Shadows, and it's just the sweetest little budding love story.

I want to do a deep dive into this romance, and I'm going to pretend like I'm more important than I actually am and do a breakdown of A Fighting Chance compared to Hidden In The Shadows when it comes to Ayesha and Joel hiding their feelings.

Like I'm Jordan Peele analyzing Get Out or something.

However, at the moment, I'm a wee bit under the weather and not feeling so hot, but, it's still release day!

And I love these two.

I hope you enjoy the story!

See you soon,

-K.

Breaking Grammar Rules like a Bada$$

I recently had someone DM me on Instagram that, while they enjoy my books, I use past participles incorrectly, and it bothers them.

So, look…I'm sorry it bothers you. If you're a grammarian ::lifts pinky:: like I am (outside of writing fiction novels), sometimes that can be jarring. However, unless it's a glaring typo or misspelling/incorrect word, I'm intentionally breaking those grammar rules.

More things you might find, as an FYI:

I split infinitives. I use conjunction starts. I end sentences with prepositions. I'm married to the em dash, and I'mma stand beside it. I use fragments like it's a limitless credit card.

I appreciate you reaching out.

Even when it comes to actual errors, authors know, and we agonize.

The thing is, errors show up in books published by Avon and Simon & Schuster as well, and they've got money-money.

Just so you know, I'm probably going to keep participling my pasts and junctioning the functions of my conjunctions. I break some grammar rules primarily to mimic everyday speech, as I've found that it makes fiction easier to read in terms of a general audience.

WordPress: Daily writing prompt

Daily writing promptShare a story about someone who had a positive impact on your life.View all responses

Teachers inherently know they might influence or leave an impact on a student, but many of them don't know how significant that impact can be.

I've had multiple teachers who've positively impacted my life, but three came to mind when I first read this prompt. We'll call them Mr. C., Mr. W., and Ms. S. 

Now, I've learned over time that although there are things I might find challenging that others do not, it doesn't mean there's something "wrong" with my brain or the way I was born. 

This, however, wasn't always the case.

Ms. S

Ms. S was my 9th-grade math teacher.

She was also the first teacher who worried about me. 

I used to be more of a math/science brain, but as I grew older, those interests evaporated through my pores and dematerialized into nothingness. So, in 9th grade, there was either a homework assignment or a test I didn't do well on, and Ms. S called…my…house. 

In defense of Ms. S, she didn't know what she was setting me up for, but I remember my mother calling me to her room to listen to the message. Of course, I already knew it was a trap, but I was 13. At 13, you have to walk into the trap. 

The message, however, caught me off guard because Ms. S didn't say I was a bad student, a slacker, etc. Instead, she said, "I know she knows the material, and I don't know what's wrong, but she's so quiet that I don't know how to help her. How can I help her?"

I don't know if any family members follow my blog, and if they do, this might get back to my family, but whatever. I'm grown. 

After that call, I got destroyed. My mother took what little confidence I had and poured hydrochloric acid on top to burn away the rest in the event I mistakenly thought I would amount to something one day.

When I went to school the next day, Ms. S let me know that she called my parents. I told her I knew. And I don't know what she saw on my face, but she worked with me without asking, without prompting, and I think she eventually learned what the "problem" was. The way she took time with me, as well as took time to understand the way I learn, still leaves me in awe to this day. 

Mr. C

Mr. C was my 10th-grade math teacher, and he would probably see this as no big deal, but he taught me the most important thing of them all.

Brains work differently sometimes.

We were working on a statistical problem in class as a group, and I, for the life of me, couldn't understand what he was writing on the whiteboard. And, no matter how often he wrote it, he'd get to a point where I felt as if I needed a Rosetta Stone to comprehend what had occurred.

So, after working with Ms. S (I've come so close to writing her name several times, lol), I went to him during one of these study hall/JA periods we had in my high school program. The interesting thing is, even after how kind Ms. S had been, I was terrified of going to Mr. C with a question. However, he was awesome, understanding, and caring, and he said, "I have a hunch. Let's work through the problem again from start to finish."

So we did.

And I needed the Rosetta Stone.

Then he said, "Let me try something."

And he essentially did the problem in reverse.

Now, I wasn't a huge emoter, so my response to making this exciting, electrifying, groundbreaking discovery was…"Oh."

Then we worked on additional problems, in reverse, and I was able to solve them all. Afterward, he told me to remember this for the future because I was 100% likely going to encounter this problem again. It doesn't mean there's something wrong with me; it simply means I learn this particular thing differently, and that's okay.

Lol, I'm actually tearing up.

Mr. W

As for Mr. W, I'll be honest—he might have gotten fired in 2023 for some of the stuff he did. For instance, he used to throw things at me (paper balls, squishy balls, stress balls), and I would let him. Then he'd say, "You have to react. You can't let people do what they want to you. Don't let people do whatever they want to you."

Not sure if I mentioned I was kind of rigid. Like, if I stood next to the Washington Monument, you'd be like, "Whoa, where'd she go?"

Still, I would not react.

I understand now what he was trying to do, but like I said…probably fired. Or he would have received a lengthy suspension.

But what Mr. W did was make me fall in love with a subject—biology. 

Remember me saying I used to be a math/science brain? I'd literally assumed my brain no longer had the capacity to learn either subject. However, he made concepts come alive. In his class, I could see blood cells flowing through veins; in my mind, the mitochondria lit up like a power plant. 

It was like being taught by Alton Brown. 

I was sick quite frequently during the two years he was my teacher, and whenever a doctor told me something, I'd go to Mr. W and say, "Explain this to me."

And he would.

If I saw something on a TV show…"Mr. W, break this down for me."

And he would.

No matter how many questions I had, and I had plenty, he was like my own personal Reddit ELI5.

In another life, I would have gone to medical school and studied rare diseases. In fact, my dream was to be like House, the person physicians called on to solve baffling medical issues. The doctor who'd spend hours poring over a patient's case when everyone else wrote them off in hopes of giving them an answer so they knew they weren't crazy. 

An answer which could influence treatment options. 

And maybe even recovery!

Of course, I wouldn't ever stop writing, so I'd end up doing both, but I would have been doing two things I love.

These were things Mr. W thought I was capable of!

Me!

If only I'd felt the same way back then, you know?

I haven't thought about any of that in a long time, but it's interesting how memories are always there, rocking back and forth, waiting for their turn to hop in like a game of double-dutch.

These three people had a positive impact on my life because so many times, so many times, I wanted to give up on everything. I wasn't smart, I wasn't pretty, I wasn't confident.

I wasn't wanted. 

I wasn't worth it.

Yet, in simple and innocuous ways, they taught me that there's always been room for me in this world. To find them, I'd have to look in places I've never thought about looking. And, in those places, I would find comfort.