Guest Blog Goodness–KT Black

Please welcome KT Black to the blog!

Most writers I’ve known say that writing is invigorating, while some say that it’s their therapy. How does your writing serve you? Do you express your life through the story or does the theme come from your vision? For me, writing is a little bit of both. My imagination is always turned on. When I’m not writing, I’m thinking about what I could be writing. I love it. It’s the one thing that’s always made me happy.

I also like the fact that writing gives me a voice I don’t often have in real life. I can say things that I don’t generally have the nerve to utter outside of a story. I know that’s why I have so much fun writing my antagonists.

Who or what inspired you to write? I’ve always loved stories, especially making them up. It wasn’t until I read the book Rebecca that I became determined to become a writer. The make believe world is so much more interesting than the real world.

What are your five “desert island” books? Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca (mystery/thriller/romance), Alice Hoffman’s Practical Magic (witchy metaphysical), Janet Evanovich’s Four to Score (for sexy laughs), Stephen Donaldson’s Mirror of Her Dreams (science fiction/fantasy), and J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (because I’ll always be a kid at heart).

What is the best way a reader can express their gratitude for the experience they had reading your work?  I think the best way is to tell you what they thought of the story I’ve written. It’s hard to receive criticism, but I think it’s worse not to hear anything at all. Good or bad, I believe all writers want to know what others think about their work.

 What advice would you give a new author? Don’t give up. If writing is your passion, don’t let fear or other people talk you out of doing it. Rejection sucks, but when someone finally tells you yes, it makes it all worth it.

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Elise Bennette doesn’t do relationships … even though her sexy-as-hell new assistant has her consumed by erotic daydreams. But things aren’t what they appear to be, and her dream life and real life are beginning to blur. Will her fantasies eventually become real or will a secret shatter the illusion?


A half hour later, her coffee cup empty, Elise sat in her office staring off into space. Why did her thoughts manage to work their way back to Dylan Holt? The thing that bothered her the most about the man wasn’t that she disliked him, like everyone thought. What bothered her was how much she liked him.

Since Dylan started working for her, the energy in the office had altered. She felt something changing inside as well. Something that frightened her. Richard was the last person to make her feel like this. No, she shook her head. This was different, something much more intense. At the office, driving in traffic, in her home, sexy daydreams about her and Dylan consumed her thoughts. It felt like she was going through puberty again.

Pushing her folders aside, Elise leaned back in her chair and allowed her mind to wander.

* * * *

It was late. The building was vacant except for her and Dylan. Focused on computer work, she didn’t see or hear when Dylan entered her office. It’s only when she felt a pair of hands resting on top of her shoulders that she knew something had changed.

“What are you doing?” Elise protested, attempting to stand but remained seated, held in place by two strong hands.

“You work too hard.” Dylan’s voice was low, husky. “You need to learn how to relax.”


When those hands began to knead her shoulders and neck, Elise stopped talking. Her eyes drooped, threatening to close as her body responded to Dylan’s touch.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Too b-busy.” As her muscles began to relax, that wasn’t all she felt. Arousal. She shifted in her seat when the throbbing between her legs become more pronounced, discovering how wet she was becoming. No, she needed to stop this now. “This isn’t—”

“Appropriate? No, maybe not, but necessary.”

“Mr. Holt.” The objection was weak. Elise knew it.

“I told you to call me Dylan. But, it does kind of turn me on to hear you say, Mr. Holt.” His tone was suggestive, full of naughty implications.

Elise shivered, a jolt of pleasure settled low in her belly, and her nipples tightened, responding to his touch.

“I know you like me, as much as you pretend to only tolerate me. Why won’t you admit it, Elise?”


“Don’t what? Don’t stop?” Dylan’s hands drifted downward. As he slipped inside the top of Elise’s blouse, he skimmed his fingertips across the top of plump flesh not covered by her bra. “I see how you look at me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

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