#MFRWsteam ~ Ball’s in Her Court Now (@KA_Raines)


Welcome to MFRW’s monthly Steam Hop, a blog hop for steamy romance writers! Click the banner to the left or on the side bar to view the other blogs in the hop!

For my entry, I chose an excerpt from my debut novel, The Infiltrator. To set the scene, Derrick and Keira barely escaped a pack of blood-thirsty Ghosts with their lives. Wet, cold, hungry, and emotionally exhausted, it’s the perfect set-up…


Keira sat up then—there was just room in the confines of the tent—and looked down as she watched him take a long, deep drag. As usual, she couldn’t read the look in his eyes because they were shielded by a fringe of dark hair, and there was something acutely masculine about the rugged set of his unshaven jaw. He had one arm casually bent behind his head, his bicep straining against the ripped cotton of his stained tee. “I’m going out on a limb here, Derrick,” she finally said. “I don’t have to go anywhere with you, but I am. I just wanna know what I’m walkin’ into.”

His eyes latched onto hers heatedly as he exhaled slowly through his nose, and the almost animalistic way he was looking at her had her clenching her thighs together, instinctively seeking friction as the familiar warmth pooled low in her belly.

“Yeah?” he said at last, his voice that now-familiar throaty growl that made her insides quiver. “Then what’re you still doin’ here? No one’s forcin’ ya. Can’t say I’d blame you for walkin’ away, since you don’t know me—not really, and you sure as shit wouldn’t be the first.” His free hand snaked out then, lightly landing on her hip, somehow timid yet bold all at once. His fingertips scorched her as his thumb just grazed the flesh beneath the hem of her shirt. She watched as his hooded gaze flickered downward, landing on her nipples that strained against the flimsy fabric, before trailing further down to the simple cotton panties she’d taken from a Dollar General north of Texarkana last week.

She forced her breathing into a steady rhythm, feeling, strangely, both annoyed and aroused—annoyed that he had the ability to arouse her with a simple look. No man should have the sort of power over her. “And no one forced you to come after me. I can take care of myself.”

His hand squeezed her hip ever-so-slightly, his gaze slowly dragging back up to meet her eyes once more as his exploring thumb slipped just beneath the waistband of her panties. “Yeah. No shit.” His eyes were dark with lust, and he didn’t seem embarrassed by the massive erection that his boxer-briefs did nothing to hide.

They continued to make eye contact in an unspoken challenge, the tension heavy in the air between them, and Keira knew that he was waiting to see what she would do next. The ball was in her court. If she wanted him, all she had to do was take him.

She was aware that she looked a mess, and she was sure she must smell even worse. Yet she felt emboldened when she shifted and leaned over him in the next instant, not allowing herself to put too much thought into what she was doing as she draped one thigh over his hips, rubbing her center lightly against him. She continued to hold his gaze as she took the mostly-forgotten cigarette from between his lips and brought it to her own, inhaling deeply. She hadn’t smoked since her college years, when she started dating Kevin and he’d deemed it unattractive, and so she savored the nicotine. Her eyes never left Derrick’s as she slowly exhaled the smoke and pressed the cigarette between his fingers.

She felt irrefutably empowered by his ragged breathing, and by the heat of his impressive length that strained insistently against her inner thigh when she dragged her leg back over his and settled at his side once more. She smiled thinly, knowing that she had regained her power. If she wanted to, she could fuck him stupid and slip off quietly next time he slept. She had been on her own for a while now, and she preferred it that way. She didn’t need other people, and she certainly didn’t need him.

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A virus has rendered humanity mostly extinct. Keira Starr is alone, staying alive by staying on the run, sleeping in empty gas stations and the trunks of cars long abandoned on the highway. The world is overrun by “Ghosts,” the mindless, bloodthirsty dead, but they are the least of her problems. She is being hunted by ragtag groups of ruthless men, independent contractors working for a mysterious human trafficking ring. When she is finally captured, she discovers that Derrick Caine, despite his gruff demeanor and appearance, may just have a different agenda altogether.

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#MFRWauthor ~ Let’s Just Get Through Halloween, Mmkay? (@KA_Raines)

MFRW’s Week 41 Blog Prompt: “Pre-Christmas Catalogue Blizzard. Hate them or love them?”

Okay, I’ll admit it. I wasn’t 100% certain to what, exactly, this topic was referring. It’s the word “blizzard” that threw me. I’m guessing we’re not talking about a literal blizzard, since a Christmas Catalogue blizzard seems like the stuff of nightmares (not to mention paper cuts). Therefore, “blizzard” used in this context must mean some sort of pre-Christmas catalogue frenzy. I’m suddenly picturing ugly-Christmas sweater-donned Stepford wives ordering truffles and fruitcakes in front of tastefully decorated mantles. Their plastered smiles never leave their Barbie-perfect features as they peruse the pages. *shudders*

Ugly-Christmas sweater-donned Stepford wives aside, “pre-Christmas” implies “before Halloween.” I could be wrong here and it means directly after Halloween. However, before I’ve even shelled out the money for over-priced yet shockingly cheap Halloween costumes (quite the conundrum, if I do say so myself), we’re being bombarded by the next big money-making holiday on the very next aisle over. All Hallows’ Eve and the birth of Christ are all the same to retailers, I suppose.

Don’t get me wrong; I love Christmas. I love hot chocolate and Christmas lights and Christmas music and peppermint mocha and…more Christmas lights. But I also enjoy celebrating one holiday at a time. Oh, and I’m pretty sure there’s a holiday involving family and good food somewhere in between Halloween and Christmas (for all of those, like me, living in the US).

Regarding catalogues specifically, I didn’t actually realize anyone ordered from them anymore. Personally, I do all of my shopping online and have for a couple of years now.


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#MFRWauthor ~ I Want to Believe (That Mulder and Scully Were Totally Doin’ It) by @KA_Raines

MFRW’s Week 39 Blog Prompt: Favorite TV Show of all time? Why?

I’ve become hooked on a number of TV shows over the years – and have even become moderately obsessed with others. I went positively gaga over The Walking Dead. I watched every season of Orange is the New Black. I witnessed Walter’s downward spiral in Breaking Bad and felt a number of emotions including outrage as I feverishly watched the first three seasons of The Handmaid’s Tale (and am currently experiencing a ridiculous amount of frustration as I impatiently await the next season).

The X-Files: 12 episodes to get you ready for Mulder and Scully's new  series | Gillian Anderson | The Guardian

I don’t have a particular genre that I enjoy more than another. As long as there’s good storytelling, acting, and dialogue, I’m all in. However, there has only been one show that – in my opinion – has had it all: drama, original storylines, humor, cooky conspiracy theories, an intelligent, fiery heroine, and her handsome, somewhat eccentric wise-cracking partner – and at its core an untouchable friendship comprised of an underlying sexual tension. I am, of course, talking about Special Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder and the formula that cooked up The X-Files. This formula has since been replicated, but not as successfully. Every week, I was on tenterhooks

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waiting to see what sorts of shenanigans Mulder and Scully would get themselves into. Every week, when presented with an unsolved case, Mulder would present a crazy theory backed by no evidence, Scully would scoff and roll her eyes, tell him he was ridiculous, and by the end of it, Mulder’s crazy, ridiculous theory would turn out to be correct. It was predictable in this manner, but it was fun all the same.

Arquivo X volta em julho com as 11 temporadas na Amazon Prime | Metro Jornal

Perhaps the most enjoyable part, other than the creative, paranormal storylines, was Mulder and Scully’s interactions. Their chemistry was obvious, but it was deliberately downplayed by creator Chris Carter, who insisted that Mulder and Scully would never become romantically involved. Eventually, however, even Carter couldn’t deny the onscreen romance he’d created, and he jumped onboard the ‘Ship Wagon. When Scully became pregnant on the show, it was only confirmed later that the characters had, in fact, been carrying on an off-screen romance for some time. Perhaps, in retrospect, it was a calculated move on Carter’s part: The more he told fans a romance wasn’t in the cards for their favorite characters, the more they’d want it!

Mulder + Scully Dancing | X files, Mulder scully, David duchovny

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#MFRWauthor ~ Bromance? Or Nomance (K.A. Raines)

MFRW’s Week 38 Blog Prompt: MM Books: write them? Read them? Why or why not?

When I was a teenager, I was a huge Anne Rice fan. While not blatant, there are homoerotic undertones to her writing, specifically detectable between her male protagonist vampires Louis and Lestat, as well as between Louis and Armand in Interview with the Vampire. It’s not blatant, and as a younger reader I wasn’t aware that there was anything to be read between the lines. It wasn’t until I became more mature and reread the first few books of Rice’s Vampire Chronicles that I picked up on it – and found the prospect appealing. Literature and film of the past century have painted the vampire as charming and alluring, qualities that would assist in drawing in unsuspecting prey. Such fodder is inherently erotic, and the idea of multiple deceitfully charming predators is too delicious an idea.

While I have a personal preference for hetero stories – it’s what I primarily write – it’s certainly not a requirement, as I’ve developed a healthy appreciation for stories featuring men only. What can I say? I love men and the wide variety of packages in which they come. I love charming vampire antiheroes. I love dirty, crossbow-wielding zombie-hunters. I love biker-gang bad-boys. Well-dressed federal agents (preferably FBI, not IRS). Just give me MEN. Like in this video…

Thanks for reading and be sure to comment and tell me: What’s your favorite non-canon MM fantasy from any movie, TV, or book series??

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#MFRWSteam Hop – The Infiltrator

The Infiltrator by K.A. Raines


Thanks for stopping by! This is my first #MFRWSteam Hop, so I hope you’ll leave a comment if you stop by! For my entry, I’m leaving a steamy 18+ excerpt from my debut erotic romance/dystopian novel, The Infiltrator. I hope you enjoy!

M/F, erotic romance, dystopian, post-apocalyptic, sci-fi/fantasy


He was breathing hard and fast through his nose, eyes dangerous as they bore into hers. Only in that moment did she realize that his powerful arms were braced against the wall on either side of her head, his body solid steal where it trapped hers against the bulkhead. His scent—masculine, earthy—invaded her senses, leaving her dizzy. His breath was hot on her face and smelled like a curious mixture of peaches and tobacco. He hadn’t shaved since coming back, and coarse facial hair, peppered with gray, covered his throat and square jaw. She had the most insane urge to lick him as she’d done that night in the kitchen, to feel the rough texture beneath her tongue. She wanted to press her lips against the hollow of his throat, the patch of skin just visible above his collar.

“Why?” she finally asked, her gaze meeting his unwaveringly. Her fingers itched to reach up and touch his face, but she didn’t dare.

“What?” He seemed taken aback by the question, clearly unsure of what she was asking.

“Why do you care?” she breathed. “I’m not your responsibility, Derrick. So…why? It’s a fair question.”

His arms dropped to his sides, and he took several paces back then, putting distance between their bodies once more. He didn’t open his mouth to offer an explanation, but his intense gaze never wavered from hers.

“You wanted to talk,” she said softly. “So, talk.”

“Ain’t some heartless bastard that’d stand aside, let you be brutalized,” he finally muttered. “That what you think o’me?”

“No, I don’t think you’re a heartless bastard. Quite the opposite, actually. But you didn’t answer the question.”

Derrick was chewing his thumbnail, and he finally broke eye contact, looking down at his boots. “Don’t know what the fuck you want me t’say.”

“Tell me why you brought me here.”

“’Cause you was alone.”

“That why you kissed me, too? Because I was alone?”

He bristled. “Jesus, woman. You wanna know why I kissed you? ’Cause I wanted to fuck you,” he ground out harshly. “That’s all. I wanna fuck you, and I don’t want you t’die. Don’t make me no goddamn saint—and it sure as fuck don’t mean I wanna put a ring on your damn finger or whatever the fuck it is yer implyin’.”

“I know you’re not a saint,” she said evenly, “and I’m not implying anything. But you didn’t fuck me, when you could have. I wanted it. So, why didn’t you, Derrick?”

He stared at her for several heartbeats before turning suddenly, clearly on the verge of storming away. She sighed wearily. “Derrick, wait.” She launched forward, reaching unthinkingly to grab his shirt to stop him—but he jerked away so brusquely that the top three buttons popped off his shirt, ripping it partially open. He was staring at her, breathing heavily through his nose and frozen in inaction as he watched her watching him. Abruptly, the room felt absurdly hot, and she was having difficulty keeping her eyes on his face.

“What happened to you?” she breathed. “Who did you lose?” She knew she was pushing him, that she should stop before she went too far, but it felt like observing a train wreck, watching from a distance as the engine rushed ahead at full steam, and, even foreseeing the impending disaster on the tracks, being powerless to stop it. “You risk your life tryin’ to save women and children. Who was she? Your wife?” She didn’t even know why she cared. She didn’t want to care. Derrick Caine was a virtual stranger to her, yet she knew she was already in way too deep.

He growled suddenly, a low, guttural sound that jarred her out of her trance when she rather unexpectedly found her space invaded by him for the third time in the past several minutes. Yet the charge in the air had shifted subtly; he no longer seemed angry, exactly, but there was something decidedly predatory in his eyes.

“The fuck you want from me?” His voice in her ear was a dangerous rumble that elicited chills up her spine and ignited a fire that bloomed hotly in her womb, a delicious contrast. Quite suddenly, all she wanted was to relieve the dull throb between her legs that his voice and presence evoked; she wanted him so badly that she physically couldn’t endure not to have him soon.

You. Just you. “I could ask the same of you,” she settled for, and she couldn’t stop the tremor in her voice. She was overwhelmed by him—by his nearness, by the heat emanating from his body, drawing her in. She tentatively raised a trembling hand, reaching up to touch a raised scar on his chest, just above his left pectoral. His chest continued to visibly rise and fall, and he was breathing hard through his nose in an obvious effort to calm himself, fists clenched in tight balls at his sides. His breathing hitched when she barely touched him, a feather-light caress, her fingertips just skimming the jagged edge of his scar. She had known all along that he was in pain. So much unbearable pain—yet he would never admit it to anyone, least of all her.

“He’s selective about who he chooses to let in,” Lexie had told her. “He’s more vulnerable than he lets on…”

His hand snaked out suddenly, catching her wrist and effectively stopping the downward trail of her fingertips. She shuddered, an irrepressible moan escaping her lips. “Don’t,” he growled, voice somehow even more gravelly than usual. She got the distinct impression, however, that he didn’t really want her to stop, as evidenced by the sizable bulge pressed enticingly against her belly through his jeans. And she’d barely even touched him.

“Please,” she whispered, and his breathing noticeably hitched when she licked her lips.

“You don’t want this. You don’t want me.” His voice was no longer angry, but there was something distinctly aggressive about the way he ground his hips against her belly as he released her wrist, hands landing roughly on her hips.

“I know what I want, Derrick. I’m a big girl.”

He growled, a sound of frustration as he stepped back slightly, and her entire being mourned the loss of contact. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”

“Oh, I don’t, do I?” She was unable to suppress the frustration in her own voice as she took a half-step forward, closing the gap between their bodies once more.

“You want me to fuck you, Keira?” His voice was an aggressive bark as he abruptly grabbed her in one swift motion and pinned her against the wall. His head was suddenly tilted downward, his breath hot against her ear as he bit her lobe—hard. “I can do that,” he added, the aggression ebbing somewhat, replaced by a heated urgency as he hiked her leg over his hip and ground against her center. Keira gasped, her hands encircling the back of his head, and their foreheads met. Their lips were mere centimeters apart, his shallow breaths hot on her face, and she thought that he was going to kiss her again…

“…But this…”

Keira’s arousal-hazed mind struggled to remember what he was talking about as he thrust his hips against her core, hard, his large hands splayed on her ass, pulling her in and grinding her against him.

“…This is all I can give you,” he continued in a low rumble. “’Cause I ain’t got nothin’ else left to give.”

“Maybe I don’t either.” It was a lie, the same lie that she’d been telling herself. She did, but it was just a matter of whether she was willing. At that moment, however, all she cared about was that he didn’t stop. She was so close already, and they were still both fully clothed.

He let out a sound that was a cross between a grunt and a growl as he released her rather abruptly, allowing her leg to slide back to the floor—and Keira let out a whimper of frustration—but then she realized that he was on his knees before her, attempting to clumsily yank her pants down her hips without undoing the button. “Wanna taste you,” he grunted, his words and voice triggering a surge of warmth that bloomed between her legs anew. She groaned and bit her lip in anticipation, forgetting that they were in a public area even if it was secluded, and not really giving a damn at that moment, as she helped him shove her pants and underwear down her hips in one fell swoop.

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3d Hardcover on transparentA virus has rendered humanity mostly extinct. Keira Starr is alone, staying alive by staying on the run, sleeping in empty gas stations and the trunks of cars long abandoned on the highway. The world is overrun by “Ghosts,” the mindless, bloodthirsty dead, but they are the least of her problems. She is being hunted by ragtag groups of ruthless men, independent contractors working for a mysterious human trafficking ring. When she is finally captured, she discovers that Derrick Caine, despite his gruff demeanor and appearance, may just have a different agenda altogether.



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