Welcome to the blog tour for Interviewing Wade. Grace Marshall, who also writes as K D Grace is one of my favorite authors, and I know you're going to love the excerpt. Enjoy!
INTERVIEWING WADE GIVEAWAY:
At the end of the Interviewing Wade Blog Tour, Grace Marshall is giving away a $50/£30 Amazon gift card. All you have to do to enter is use the Rafflecopter at the end of the post to gain entries.
A Reporter’s Point of View
Thanks so much, Gale, for hosting me for the Interviewing Wade Blog Tour and Giveaway! It’s always a pleasure to be at yours to talk writing, romance and cool stuff.
Wade Crittenden is reclusive, surly and a mystery even to those few he does let into his world. Enter intrepid reporter, Carla Flannery, with whom Wade has already had some intriguing and hair-raising encounters. BUT this time she wants to interview him. The idea of Carla interviewing Wade and the difficulties presented by the fact that Wade doesn’t WANT to be interviewed provided a perfect framework for a story told though the eyes of everyone but Wade, as Carla investigates. That meant both me the writer and you, the reader, would be investigating right along with Carla, always seeing Wade through other people’s eyes, never seeing inside Wade’s head until the end.
Wade doesn’t make it easy, and Carla, like any good reporter, never misses a chance to observe and take notes on the reclusive nerd genius who is 1/3 of the power behind the progressive, innovative company, Pneuma, Inc. One of the really fun parts of this novel to write was Carla’s notes and observations of Wade Crittenden. These notes are made all the more interesting and vital by the fact that in spite of the growing attraction between them, Wade is clearly terrified of letting Carla in.
Notes: Wade Crittenden article
‘I’m busy. Don’t bother me.’ That’s Wade Crittenden’s standard answer to everyone, except maybe Dee Henning and Ellison Thorne, his business partners. Probably Martin Flannery can get a more amiable response from him, at least on some days.
I’ve come to think that possibly Wade’s interaction, or lack thereof, with people is a matter of trust. It’s not so much that he doesn’t trust them, though I have no doubt he doesn’t. It’s more that he doesn’t trust himself with other people. He misses the cues most of us pick up on in our social interaction with each other. He also lacks the ability to put on the social mask as needed for keeping things polite, especially when dealing with uncomfortable situations.
By the time Wade has given Carla permission to do the interview, They both know that he’s done so in order to keep her safe from a stalker who threatens her life, and they’re both struggling to figure out just how to be together under difficult circumstances. And Carla has only begun to realize just how much Wade’s Dungeon, his enormous underground realm reflects who he is.
Notes/Wade Crittenden Interview:
The lab is a bit of a let down, actually. I suppose I expected the sub-basement rooms of Wade Crittenden’s Dungeon to be, well more dungeon-ish – or at the very least a bit like a state-of-the-art Dr Frankenstein’s laboratory, or the inside of the Tardis? The room itself actually looks a lot like a cross between a nerd’s basement and Wade’s Inner Sanctum on the main floor of the Dungeon. I find myself wondering what makes the sub-floors special, other than the dungeon on the lowest level, which Wade declines to show me. Yet, is it really a dungeon, or just another mystery room in Wade Crittenden’s lower levels and inner workings? Which begs the question, why does Wade Crittenden choose to live his life mostly underground? He certainly isn’t a vampire. He seems to cope well enough with sunlight. On the other hand, he doesn’t cope so well with people, and he has strict control over the people who are allowed into his underground sanctum.
He pulls his hood up when he works. He looks like a hot version of the Grim Reaper all slouched at the battered metal desk in his oversized black hoodie. I asked him why. He said it works better than an aluminium foil hat. Should I be worried that I totally got the reference?
As the story progresses and as it becomes clear that Carla and Wade’s relationship is anything but professional, as the risk to her life mounts along with his frustration and fear of not being able to protect her, the notes become more raw, and so do their responses to each other.
Wade Crittenden/ Interview notes:
Watching the man work is like watching an artist. I wonder if maybe with a mind like his, everything he does is only just another threshold to an amazing discovery. What must it be like to live in that eternal state of discovery? Is it an unjaded innocence or an incredible burden with which he has no one to share?
Interviewing Wade Blurb:
Interviewing Wade Blurb:
The Executive Decisions Trilogy may be over, but the story continues. Intrepid reporter, Carla Flannery, wants to interview Wade Crittenden, the secretive creative genius behind Pneuma Inc. But when, against all odds, Wade actually agrees to the interview, Carla suspects ulterior motives.
Carla has made a lot of enemies in her work and when Wade discovers she’s being stalked, he agrees to the interview to keep her close and safe. As the situation turns deadly, lives and hearts are on the line, and the interview reveals far more about both than either ever expected.
Interviewing Wade Excerpt:
‘I hate you both,’ she called back over her shoulder.
Wade was by her side in a heartbeat, keeping her pace with no difficulty. ‘Is that what you do to people you hate?’ His voice was tight in his chest. When he reached for her arm, she turned and slapped him, feeling the sting and the recoil all the way up her arm, hearing him gasp and curse.
‘I didn’t do it, he did. Not that it’s any of your goddamn business.’ She picked up her pace and kept walking. ‘Why the fuck would you care anyway? You don’t even like me, remember?’ When he fell into step next to her still rubbing his cheek, she elbowed past him and made her way to the entrance of the Dungeon, punching in the code so hard that her finger popped. Inside the dining area, he grabbed her again and she jerked away. ‘Leave me alone, Crittenden. I’ve had enough bullshit for one day.’ She shoved her way past the table and down the hall with every plan of locking herself in The Suite. She knew he could get in if he wanted to, but she had a Taser in her bag and she fucking knew how to use it.
‘Damn it, Carla!’ He grabbed for her again, and she dodged into the incident room with him right behind her. ‘This is not funny.’
‘Do I look like I’m laughing?’
This time he engulfed her, pulling her tight against his chest. Then, breathing like he was about to explode, he grabbed both her wrists in one big hand, pulled them up over her head and pressed her against the support beam in the middle of the room. With a grasping stretch of the other arm, he yanked a length of utility cable from a metal work desk and bound her wrists with stunning efficiency.
‘You bastard, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she jerked and bucked against his efforts, but no matter how strong she was, he was stronger and bigger. ‘It’s not bad enough I’m your prisoner here, but then you have to --’ He bit her lip hard and kissed her until she could feel the press of her own teeth against the back of her lips as he slipped the cable that bound her wrists over a hook just high enough on the support beam to stretch her arms at full length. ‘You fucking bastard, let me go!’ her voice was a muffled cry inside his mouth that ended in a sharp yelp as he bit her tongue and pulled back.
His eyes burned into her like fire. ‘You kissed him.’
‘I fucking didn’t kiss him!’ She stomped her foot down the inside of his calf and he grunted and cursed, but otherwise ignored what she knew had to hurt like a sonovabitch. ‘He kissed me! And it’s none of your business, and why the fuck should you care?’ She brought her leg up to knee him in the balls, but he blocked the move, swinging her knee wide and shoving in close, his upper thigh rubbing hard against the sensitive juncture between her legs. Then he took her mouth again and she felt a tooth puncture her lip, she felt the rasp of his stubbled chin abrading her face. ‘I care, goddamnit,’ he grunted against her mouth, then he pulled away and bit her neck right where her pulse shuddered in the tender spot and she cried out.
‘You got a helluva way of showing it! You bloody bastard, untie me. Let me go!’
He gripped the top of her blouse with white-knuckled fists, large fists, so much larger when they were pressed against her breasts, and the room was filled with the sound of ripping silk. Buttons pinged off the metal desk as he tore and shoved as though the remains of the very expensive blouse had somehow offended him. From his jeans, he took a pocketknife and, before she could do more than yelp, he brought it up between the cups of her bra and with a quick slice, cutting the garment in two. Then he tossed the knife onto the table with a loud metal clank and buried his face between her breasts, his hand cupping and kneading until she was sure there would be bruises, until her nipples beaded and ached, until each breath she caught seemed less and less effective. The sound coming from his throat was a guttural moan that vibrated against her sternum as his lips then his tongue, then his teeth found one nipple and then the other. And she lost it.
‘Fuck you, Crittenden! Goddamn you! Why are you doing this to me? Why the hell are you doing this to me? Untie my hands!’ The last words broke over a sob and hot tears spilled down her cheeks.
For an instant he froze, head resting between her breasts, breath coming humid and fast. Then he slid his hands up her body to cup her face, holding her so she couldn’t look away, holding her until their eyes met. With his thumbs, he wiped back the mascara smudge of tears and spoke around his efforts to breathe. ‘I … don’t want him … touching you, Carla. I don’t want anyone touching you but me.’ Curling his fingers in her hair, he yanked her into a kiss that might have been fatal if she hadn’t bit him.
When he pulled back with a hiss of breath and tightened his fist in her hair she bared her teeth. ‘You’re an asshole, Crittenden.’ He tightened his grip, until her eyes watered, holding her so she couldn’t bite him while he deftly slid in between her thighs so that she couldn’t knee him while, with the the other hand, he rucked up her skirt and shoved the crotch of her panties aside. His eyes sparked green fire as he wrestled open his fly and shoved his jeans down over his hips.
He grabbed her ass with powerful hands and even as she squirmed, she knew it was useless. ‘I hate you, Crittenden! I fucking hate you,’ she growled.’
‘Better for both of us if you do,’ he managed.
‘Do it! Goddamn it! Just do it, you bastard.’ She screamed.
And he did. The first thrust felt like he’d entered her with a battering ram. He cursed and grunted and fisted the clenching muscles of her butt. ‘Melbourne may have touched you, Carla, but when I’m done with you, it’ll be my touch you remember.’ His voice came in tight breathless fragments, between barely parted lips, but their meaning was crystal clear. ‘When you wake up in the morning, I want you to know that I’m the one who fucked you. I want your body to feel every place I touched, every place I had you. I want you to feel me every time you move, every time you breathe all day long. I want you to remember what I did to you.’ He gathered her to him and, she didn’t think it possible, but he thrust still harder, and she thrust back with all the rage and all the force her bonds would allow. The sound from his throat was an animal roar, a sound of violence, a sound of lust and passion being ripped from her. In the fire that raged in her brain and in her body it barely registered that she answered his wild animal rage with her own. She roared and kicked and bit, all the while cursing him and blessing him. She landed a solid heel in his kidney and he grunted and gave a low guttural laugh that made the fine hairs on her arms rise. ‘I’ll take your bruises, Carla. I’ll wear them and feel them and know that you gave them to me and not to him.’
It felt like he was ripping her apart, and God, she wanted him to. She wanted to do the same to him. She wanted him to break her and shred her and pulverize her until there was nothing left but the heat of her, and Christ almighty there was so much heat. No one generated heat like Wade Crittenden. She lowered her head and bit his neck and he yanked her back, fingers tangled tightly in her hair, then returned the favour biting her just above her left nipple, forcing himself still deeper into her, deep enough to take her breath away, deep enough to bruise with each thrust and still she gripped him tighter, the muscles in her thighs cramping and straining to get closer.
Then just when she was sure she would die, he pulled out, holding himself so that just the very tip of his cock touched her, and she cursed at him, bucking and thrusting, frantic to get him back into her.
‘Say my name, Carla.’ His words were a breathless whisper, hot against her ear. ‘Say it’s me you want. Say it.’
Her growl became a roar, and she kicked at him and writhed in helpless frustration. ‘Goddamn it, Crittenden, it’s you I want, you sonovabitch! It’s always been you I want.’
He curled his fingers still tighter in her hair and she yelped as he forced her to meet his gaze, his breath exploding in desperate gasps against her face. ‘Say my name, Carla, say it again … say that you want me.’
This time she felt the tears, an angry, frustrated desperate mix that filled her eyes and flooded her cheeks. ‘I want you Wade Crittenden. I want you. And no one else.’ Her last word came out in rush of breath as he thrust back into her hard, covering her face with kisses and nips, licking her tears, ravaging her mouth, breathing her name over and over as he thrust and gasped and cursed, all the while she clung to him like a second skin, cursing and whimpering and raging.
About K D Grace/Grace Marshall
Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?
When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.
KD has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and others.
K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.
K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition are all available.
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