HK Carlton’s The Devil Take You

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HK Carlton’s The Devil Take You

I’m so happy to welcome Author HK Carlton to the blog. HK is a fellow twitter lover and author of historical as well as erotic romances. She’s not afraid to tackle time travel, FMF menages, and just about anything. Let’s hear about her latest release, The Devil Take You.

HK, what was the inspiration behind this book?

The inspiration for The Devil Take You was a little challenge to myself, to write an anti-hero. We always read stories where the hero is just that; he swoops in to save the day. I wanted to write about this incredibly evil man, who still maintains a moral code of his own, warped, as it may seem to everyone else, there is still some good in him. He commits all these horrible atrocities but I absolutely fell in love with this guy while I was writing him. Of course, like any good woman, I wanted to fix him. But he made sure that we maintained his wickedness, all the way through. The idea for TDTY actually began with a violent scene that occurs in the second chapter and the rest just filled right in. And then came the research, which was not a hardship. I love my Scottish/British history. But I had to be certain that the actual historical events fit right with my fictional hero and heroine. I’d say about 90% of the rest of the cast were real people from 1307.

Which character spoke to you the most while you were writing this book or which was you favorite?

Definitely Gard. He didn’t really speak to me, he snarled at me. But I gave it to him right back with Brae’s help.

When did you know you wanted to be a writer?

I’ve been asked this before and I don’t really know how to answer. Being a writer was something that talented more educated people were lucky enough to do. I honestly didn’t think that I could be a writer. I never actually said or thought, I want to be a writer. All the stories that roll around in my head were for me. So being able to share them and have other people enjoy them too, is just astonishing and beyond anything I could ever have imagined.

Tell us about your favorite atmosphere for writing.

My favourite place to write is in bed with the laptop. But I don’t always get to do that, of course. The other setting is my husband’s office, which is also the mudroom in our home, at the old desktop computer. Which can get a little dicey when I have a rather racy scene going on and someone comes to the door. I have a bottomless cup of coffee and sometimes I break out the dry Honey Nut Cheerios for a snack.

Do you have a project in the works that you’d like to tell us about?

I have several things on the go. One that I’m really excited about but I’d rather not say anything just yet. Superstitious author, right here. (yes, I am pointing at myself.) It is just in the beginning stages. Outlining and scribbling ferociously as things come at me left and right. The full story has not developed completely. The way it is coming out in my head, it may not be a HEA. But I have run into this problem before, just recently, actually. But I stuck to my guns and didn’t change the ending. The story is being published the way I’d intended it to be from the beginning. And the way I see it, it is a happy ending. (shrug) But for this new project, I will see how things turn out. Sometimes the story can take an unexpected turn before the conclusion. I might see it one way right now, but the characters might direct me to a completely different ending. Who knows, perhaps there is a happy ending for this one too.

How do you make yourself stand out in a competitive market?

I haven’t been able to accomplish that one yet. Any pointers, I’d love to hear them. But then again, promo takes away from the writing time. And that just makes me grumpy. I’d rather be writing. The one thing that I do try, is to change things up. But perhaps that is more for me than it is to try and make myself stand out. I don’t always write in the same genre or sub-genre. Now this too can be tricky especially when just starting out and trying to acquire a fan base. People who primarily read m/m might not be interested in the m/f material that I write. And historical romance readers may shy away from my erotic works. By doing this, I limit the fan base, I suppose. But I just enjoy writing and I write what moves me at the time. If other people enjoy it too, it’s all good.

When you go from writing erotic fiction to a romance that’s not as racy, how do you tone down the heat level?

So, far this has not been too much of an issue. Both of the historical romance novels that have been published were written before I realised my passion for writing erotic romance. But I think I did take a few liberties with The Devil Take You. Since Gard Marschand is such a bad ass, some of the darker more explicit descriptions fit with his character. But I do have to watch the language when naming body parts between the two. You just have to remember that in historical romance, leave a little to the reader’s imagination; in an erotic story, leave nothing to the imagination. Let it all hang out. (so to speak)

What do you do when you’re not writing?

I’m a mom. (but not super human mom, like you are, Normandie, Phew, I get tired just thinking about your day) And I help out my husband with his business, when he needs it.

(Blushes as she refers to my six kidlets.) But you write a lot more than I do, I’ll bet.

What are you reading right now?

I am not reading anything at the moment. I used to read all the time. I have several things on my to read list and a bunch of things just waiting for me on my kindle, for a free second to actually sit down and read. There are a couple of things I really can’t wait to dive into.

What is your favorite color?

Purple (Luv!)

Favorite food?

Ice cream

If you had to be stranded on a desert island – who is the one person you’d like to be stranded with, and what one luxury item would you like to have with you?

I don’t think I should say, but he knows who he is. So, I will go with my old stand by; I’d want to be stranded with My Highlander, but I haven’t met him yet. And is running water a luxury item?

Sure. You can have a flushing toilet too! I love playing fairy godmother.

If you could be any animal what would it be?

That’s a good question. I’ve never given it much thought. Our dogs have a pretty cushy life. They hit jackpot when they picked us.

What is something readers would be surprised to learn about you?

Well, I think the One Direction thing is out in the open my now. LOL. So, let me think. I’m really shy and introverted. Hiding behind H K is a really good place for me. It gives me a chance to try, do and say, all the things that the real me would never do. I can express myself without hurting anyone else. Even if it is only in my writing.

Is there anything else you’d like to share?

I’d like to thank you for having me. You ask some tough questions, Normandie. This was a lot of fun! Thanks for allowing me to share release day with you.

You’re so welcome, and I’m glad the questions were a bit of a challenge. I’d hate to be too easy. Lol.

Here’s the Blurb for The Devil Take You ~

Scotland—1307—During the Scottish Wars of Independence

Gard Marschand will stop at nothing in his pursuit to regain what is lost. Concealing his true identity, he will associate with his enemies, kill his own countrymen, even sell his soul to the devil if all else fails. He will lie, cheat, steal, rape and siege his way across two countries gaining power and reputation in his malevolent wake. His determination all consuming, until King Edward commands Gard to lay siege on Ross-shire holding, where Braelynn Galbraith obliterates his single-minded purpose.

Braelynn Galbraith wants peace for her beloved Scotland, marriage to her childhood sweetheart, Callum, and a house full of children. In that order. But evil incarnate in the form of Gard Marschand, turns her life inside out and destroys all hope of a decent marriage.

Can Gard abandon his deep-seated need of revenge for a love that might just save his soul, or will he succumb to the demons that hound him and surrender to the devil within?

I believe your stay in purgatory has only just begun…

Read an Excerpt:

Gard Marschand rode alongside his second and friend, Hudson Grainger. Three more, Aidean Ferguson, Robbie Cowan and Hugh Chamberlain, rode with him, their fearless leader for this siege. They were en route to meet the others at Ross, where they planned to oust Overlord Ross himself from the shire.

This was the third siege in as many months. It grew tiresome. Gard was weary of siege, tired of war. He was more than ready to take, and accept his rightful place, to reclaim his name and property.

As instructed, they were removing the Scottish overlords who were not easily malleable and replacing them with select leaders. Not necessarily English overlords, just men who were more pliable. Gard was not particularly agreeable to these appointments but would do what was required in order to get back what was his. From the moment William was executed everything changed for Gard. He no longer wanted to fight what seemed to be a losing battle. He only desired to seize what was rightfully his, hold onto it, protect it, and endeavour not to let them change their ways.

“Gard,” Grainger uttered his name for the third time. Gard’s dark eyes swivelled to his friend. With a look Grainger silently reminded him to have his wits about him. Gard tuned back to the raucous conversation being carried on around them by the younger men.

“I canna wait to sample the new lot o’ lasses.”

“You will leave the lasses be, Cowan,” Hugh Chamberlain, the British Captain, commanded in his most regimented, authoritative voice. “You are here for one purpose only. Abusing the young lasses is not one of our goals. I am sick to death of compensating the irate papas. The next time, it comes directly out of your recompense.”

“Ya canna do tha’.”

“Aye. I can, and I will.”

“Ya forget who I am.”

“You are no more or less than any of the rest of us, Cowan. You are here simply as a guide and a Scot. You will direct us and help us with the language if need be. That’s it. Harming the women is not part of your post. Moreover, I’m sure your clan would be interested to know how you comport yourself in their name. I will be sure to put it in my report.”

Robbie Cowan glared at Hugh’s back. Hugh spurred his horse into a canter; the rest followed his lead.

Eventually, they met up with the larger contingent, attired similarly, in black.

“Fraser, take half and cross the river, take up the rear. Stuart take the others and head north east.”

“You want us to just ride right up to the front door?” Stuart asked.

“You’ve seen how lax Ross has become. We’ve scouted enough,” Chamberlain reassured them. “Ross’ stronghold and reinforcements are laughable at best. It will be just that simple.”

“Marsch and Hudson take the rest and go over the moors, around that burm.”

They rode toward Ross, closing down on it from three sides, a score of men with them now that Chamberlain had gone on with Stuart’s group.

Cowan kept up his incessant prattle. If he wasn’t rutting he was chattering. He enjoyed belittling everyone around him, picking out a man’s weakness and pointing them out to one and all. It was different from Grainger’s good-natured teasing. Cowan set out to mock and humiliate. They all let it go, on account of whom he was related to, but sooner or later, even that would not save him. He’d singled out everyone in the group so far before making his way to Marsch.

“Marschand is not human.” Cowan tried again to draw Gard into confrontation.

“I have yet ta see him partake in the bounty of lassies placed in front o’ us. E’en Grainger, a married man, na less has given inta his baser needs.” Marsch saw his friend cringe at the reminder of his indiscretion. “But no’ Marschand. It makes one wonder.”

“He wears out the camp whores, Cowan. How have you not noticed that?” Grainger interjected on his friend’s behalf.

“He has? I have no’ noticed. I keep them quite busy meself.”

“Aye, ’tis the reason half o’ them have hied themselves off ta greener pastures. Ya are a savage, Robbie,” Aidean Ferguson added.

“How do ya ken ’tis me brutalizing ‘em? Marsch is a beast, in evraway. Ye’ve all seen it. Ya canna tell me tha’ he is no’ when he’s ruttin’ as weel.”

Cowan was quiet for a moment, mounting a new attack and they all knew it.

“Or mayhaps Marschand canna maintain his manhood because he is inta young boys.” Robbie laughed hysterically at his own lewdness. “Tha’s why he abuses the whores, as if ’tis their fault tha he canna keep it up.”

Marschand turned black eyes to Grainger. “I will kill him,” he pledged matterof-factly. But to Cowan he said, “You had better ride faster, Robbie Cowan afore my beastly tastes turn to red-headed cocksure Scotsmen.” The deep coldness in his tone made even the most hardened warrior in their troop hasten the pace.

Gard struggled to rein in his anger. Robbie did not heed the warning tone and goaded Marschand further. “I wondered. But you Frenchmen have strange appetites anywho. Beastly, ya say. Are ya inta animals too then, Marsch?”

Gard seethed inside. Cowan was the animal. He’d stopped him several times from attacking more than one defenceless young woman in the last two sieges. Then there were the others that he had not been there to save. And the last one. Her face still haunted him. He thought he’d warned her sufficiently, but she’d gone out alone, unprotected, and the rutting bastard stalked her and cornered her. She’d already committed suicide by the time Gard returned to the castle. Hudson had saved Robbie Cowan’s worthless existence that day and since. And Gard’s as well, since Robbie Cowan was somehow loosely related to John Comyn.

“How ’boot tha’ one, Marsch? Ya canna tell me that doesna stir ya.”

A girl of no more than eighteen if a day wandered the moor. Alone. Where were her men? They should be hanged for lending her to the fate that was about to become hers.

She wore blue. He noticed immediately for it was one of his colours and always captured his attention. Long dark hair swirled around her waist as she put one foot in front of the other seeming to go nowhere. She picked a flower, thrusting it carelessly into her hair. Plucking another, she added it to the bouquet in her hands. She was lovely. It had been a long time and his body reacted. He was not the only one affected as they bore down on her like a pack of hungry wolves on the unsuspecting lamb. Why did she not hear them? She was completely unaware of her surroundings or the danger that lurked around her.

Run, lass. Run, he commanded her in his head and as if she heard him her feet took flight.

A plume of smoke became visible over the burm and the smell of burning rotted wood permeated the air, signalling the first troops had breached the village and the initial wave of the siege had begun.

Gard manoeuvred his horse to the flanks of the other horses. As usual Hudson anticipated his every thought and positioned himself to impede Robbie’s progress at the precise time.

Gard hazarded a glance at Cowan. His eyes were alight with eagerness; his mouth foamed in excitement of the chase. Gard was not about to let this happen again.

Each man had single-minded purpose.

“I dare ya, Marsch. Take her. Afore I do,” Robbie taunted, grinning. He spurred his horse, but Gard was faster.

The Devil Take You © 2013 by H K Carlton