Release Blitz ~ Forsaking Gray by K.L. Kreig


Release Date: August 24, 2015

Supporting information:
  • Book one: Forsaking Gray

When does hiding the truth to protect someone you love turn into deception?
When does your unwavering trust turn into the ultimate betrayal?
When is the truth more than it appears to be on the surface?
Within less than twenty-four hours of proposing to the love of his life, she disappeared. No note. No trace. No explanation. Nothing. Now, five years later, she’s resurfaced and Gray will stop at nothing to make Livia his again. But is love enough to forgive an unforgivable wrong?

Livia ~ I had less than sixty seconds to make a decision that would forever change my life and those of the ones I loved.
I sacrificed.
I suffered.
I survived.
And no one must ever discover my shameful secret, especially him.

Gray ~ I had dreams of a future with the woman who breathed the very life into my soul.
I was betrayed.
I was abandoned.
I was lost.
Now that she’s back, can I find it within myself to leave the past in the past and forgive so we can move forward and have the life I’d imagined?

  • Book two: Undeniably Asher
Abandonment. Betrayal. Loss. Is it any wonder Alyse Kingsley won’t let anyone inside her reinforced walls again? So when the dominating, possessive Asher Colloway, the man she nearly lost her virginity to, bulldozes his way back into her life, stealing her heart will be Asher’s ultimate challenge. Just when Alyse thinks she’s finally found the one man who can make her whole, her past comes back to haunt her and everything she thought she knew to be true turns out to be a lie and her new, fragile relationship with Asher will be put to the ultimate test.
  • Book three: Luke’s Absolution
What if every decision you’ve ever made in your life was based on a lie? A misunderstanding? What if that lie led you down a path of unrighteousness, but also led you to the woman who was your light? Your color? Could you do the right thing and let her go, or do you fight for the only thing you’ve ever truly wanted in your life, even if you know you’ll never be good enough for her and she’s the one woman you’re supposed to stay away from?
Luke Colloway has never been a man to run from a fight and he’s not about to start now.

  • Book four: TBA

Press Release

For Release the week of August 23, 2015        
CONTACT: Amanda Triplett, 937-522-0170,
The Colloway Brothers Series, Book one promotional blitz for Forsaking Gray by K.L. Kreig

    UNITED STATESAugust 24, 2015 — First in a new series by best-selling author K.L. Kreig
    In The Colloway Brothers Series, Forsaking Gray ($2.99 K.L. Kreig Publishing, August 2015) author K.L. Kreig weaves a tale of bone-deep love and emotional angst about long-lost loves reunited. Will the horrible secret that Livia holds close about the reason for her disappearance end them before they have a chance to reclaim the love they once had? Or could an unexpected person from Gray’s past who resurfaces and who is also surprisingly tied to Livia be the final wedge that breaks them apart?

    Book one highlights Gray Colloway and Livia Kingsley.
  • Auxiliary characters for future works are introduced.
      • A long, lost brother. A heroic ‘black sheep’ of the Colloway clan.
      • Alyse Kingsley, the younger sister of Livia Kingsley.
      • Steadfast friends with pasts of their own.
  • The dynamics of the brothers’ relationships with one another within the scope of this work is defined.
  • Other romantic storylines are developed in anticipation of their own novels.
    Forsaking Gray, The Colloway Brothers Series, by K.L. Kreig  ($2.99, approx. 350 pages, eBook and 8 x 5 paperback) is available at online booksellers like For details on where you can purchase Forsaking Gray visit K.L. Kreig’s website at

Author Bio

This is the hardest part…talking about myself.
I’m just a regular ol’ Midwest girl who likes Game of Thrones and am obsessed with Modern Family and The Goldbergs. I run, I eat, I run, I eat. It’s a vicious cycle. I love carbs, but there’s love-hate relationship with my ass and thighs. Mostly hate. I like a good cocktail (oh hell…who am I kidding? I love any cocktail). I’m a huge creature of habit, but I’ll tell you I’m flexible. I read every single day and if I don’t get a chance…watch the hell out, I’m a raving bitch. My iPad and me: BFFs. I’m direct and I make no apologies for it. I swear too much. I love alternative music and in my next life I want to be a bad-ass female rocker. I hate, hate, hate spiders, telemarketers, liver, acne, winter and loose hairs that fall down my shirt (don’t ask, it’s a thing).
I have a great job (no…truly it is) with the largest wholly-owned insurance company in the United States. My kids and my husband are my entire world and I’d never have made it this far without them. My soul mate husband of nearly twenty-eight years provides unwavering support and my two grown children know the types of books I write and they don’t judge their mom anyway (and my daughter is a beta reader even…yes, that can be awkward… very).
Although Forsaking Gray is the fourth full-length novel that I have published in less than a year, I still consider myself a virgin author. I’m sincerely humbled by each and every like on my FB page or sign-up for my newsletter or outreach from someone who has read and loved my books. I still can’t get over the great support and reviews for my Regent Vampire Lords series from bloggers and my “fans.” I’ve made more friends in the last year than I’ve made in my life and I’m a pretty affable person. It’s surreal. I’m pretty sure it always will be.
In short, I am blessed…and I know it.

Author Q&A

Why Brothers? Why is it a component that works so well in your stories?
As a reader, I love getting invested into series that can be read as stand-alone, but that also have multiple characters being developed, each getting their own book and their own HEA, be it brothers, friends, or business partners. As a writer, while each book focuses on an individual couple, this approach also allows me to deepen my characters throughout multiple books.
As far as the Colloway Brothers go, I wanted to create a series of stories that showcased their strong familial bond, but was also realistic in the fact that looks can be deceiving and not every family is perfect, even though they may appear to be so on the outside. I also really love to write a strong male character being brought to his knees by his soul mate.
Why do you think serial romance fiction is so popular?
I think for the reasons I stated above. As a reader, when you spend hours reading a great book and you get invested in the characters, it’s sad to read the last word, but awesome to know you’ll be seeing them again in a subsequent book. I also think it’s closer to real life, because we all have ongoing relationships and it’s nice to see how some of your favorite characters are doing… it’s like visiting a good friend you don’t get to see very often. It just brings a smile to your face.

Where do you do your writing?
Multiple places. I get tired of sitting in the same spot. It smothers my creativity. I’ve written at the kitchen table, the kitchen island, my home office, on my couch, on a plane, in a car, on a train, in a hotel room, sitting in bed. You name it, I’ll write there (well, except for the tub, that’s a big no-no). I honestly write any chance I get or when I have an idea hit me. I’ve even been known to whip out my phone in the grocery store (and once even in the bathroom…yup) and make notes because I thought of good dialogue or an idea I’m afraid I’ll forget so I have to get it down before it disappears. I take my computer with me practically everywhere. My husband finds it very annoying.

Can you read novels as you write or do you find it befuddling?
I always, always, always read. I read as much as I write, if not more. My goal on Goodreads this year is 150 books and I’m already ahead of schedule. Reading is like breathing or sleeping or eating to me. You don’t want to see what happens to me if you take my book away.

What role does music play in your process?
Oh my god…HUGE! Every one of my books has a playlist that I’ve used as emotional inspiration for my characters, conversations and scenes, particularly the steamy ones. I’ve written entire books around just ONE SONG. I absolutely love music and couldn’t imagine being able to write without it.

This or that… beer or wine?
Picking a favorite alcohol is like asking me to pick a favorite child. Can’t be done! ....or can it?

Do you daydream about strangers you see in the airport, shopping mall etcetera? And build a romantic scene around them?
I wouldn’t say I daydream about them, but I do pay attention to my surroundings and conversations and I have been known to use them in my books. There are only so many experiences of your own you can draw from. In fact, my friends are now a little afraid of what they say around me for fear it will end up in book somewhere down the line. And many a conversation have.

When you walk in a book store, where do you go first?
To the romance section, of course. Duh.

This or that… boxers or briefs?

Pre-written Post by K.L Kreig

Cliffhangers-Friend or Foe?
This is a tough one. I love a great series where the story unfolds over the course of several books and to do that you need a good cliffhanger, of course. But I find myself frustrated at the length of time it takes sometimes for the subsequent books to be released. And the truth of it is, I read so many books, unless the series is exceptional and I’m stalking the author, I find myself forgetting about the next book because I’ve already moved on to other ones. There are very few series that I actually count down the days until the next book is released.
At one point, I resorted to making an excel spreadsheet to keep track of all of my series and when the next book was expected to come out, that’s how many different ones I was reading. My sister and a good friend of mine share the same tastes in books and so we would all share this same spreadsheet, but I don’t have time to keep on it now, so it went by the wayside.
If a series is getting great reviews, I will likely wait until all of the books have been released before I buy them.
As a reader, my other complaint on series, or serials, which unfold throughout several books is that they are generally not full-length novels and like every other reader, I want to get what I’ve paid for.

If you had a free day with no responsibilities and your only mission was to enjoy yourself, what would you do?
Here’s my completely ideal scenario: Imagine this… the temperature is an optimal eighty degrees. There are only periodic cumulus fluffy white clouds floating by in the otherwise clear brilliant blue sky, which is a mesmerizing color you’re not sure you’ve ever seen before. The hot sun is at its highest point for the day, right over where you’re relaxing. The air is summery, but not suffocating or humid.
The breeze is light enough to cool your warmed skin, but not strong enough to coat it with the powder-fine sand lining the mile-long, sparsely populated beach. The yellow lounger you’re reclining on is positioned within just feet of salty water so clear you can see to the bottom and is comfy with thick padding, making it the perfect napping spot. The person next to you, mirroring your position, is your favorite one in the entire world and there’s no one else you’d rather be with (mine would be my hubby).
You’re protected from the harsh, wrinkle-causing rays by a brown thatch umbrella. It has to be thatch, because that fits in with the whole beach scene and seems more natural to the environment. To your right on a weathered wooden table sits a Bluetooth speaker, which is playing your favorite music (mine would be a mixture of alternative, like Red, Adelita’s Way, Five Finger Death Punch, Breaking Benjamin and Flyleaf and pop, such as Taylor Swift, Iggy Azalea, Justin Timberlake, Maroon Five, Coldplay and Sam Smith). Said table also holds your favorite chilled beach cocktail (mine would be a pina colada or a sex on the beach). When you pick up the drink to take a sip, the condensation drips on your swimsuit, soaking through and chilling you in only that one spot, but it feels refreshing. You savor another drink, allowing a few more droplets to fall before returning it.
As background noise to your favorite tunes, birds chirp, the occasional motor boat cuts through the water and the ocean waves crash softly against the shore, trying to lull you to sleep because you’ve been sitting here already for hours with the latest riveting novel by your favorite author (such as Forsaking Gray, by K.L. Kreig). But you resist the droop of your eyes and the pull of a nap for you simply must see what happens on the next page. You’re nearing the end and you won’t put this book down or move from this spot until you’ve read the very last word, full bladder be damned.
Now…close your eyes (well, after you read the rest of this, of course). Can you picture it? Can you hear the crashing, melodic waves? Can you feel the warm breeze skating over your skin? Can you smell the salt and heat? Can you taste the coconut and rum lingering on your tongue? Is a tear running down the side of your cheek or a smile spreading your lips because a talented author was able to stir emotion in you? Are you wishing their next book was out right this minute so you could immediately buy it on your kindle from the comfort of your chair?
Good, because that’s exactly how I picture my perfect, responsibility free day. That carefree day would then be followed by a night of endless dancing to my favorite dance music with the hubs and friends until my feet hurt, my muscles protested and sweat ran down my back, possibly followed by some music of my own making when I finally made it back to my room.

What every hero needs to have.
As a voracious reader of romance novels myself, I’m going to address this topic as such and I’m going to go all out, because this all about building my fantasy man!
First and foremost, every hero needs some sort of redeeming quality. I don’t mind a few douche moments, because let’s face it…all our guys have them. And I don’t mind reading angst, and generally like that in my books, but at the end of the story if I don’t think the hero has some sort of personality trait for me or the heroine to fall in love with, then I don’t feel a connection to him and the story is a big fail for me.
I love a hero who has some sort of broken and imperfection in him, because we all do to some degree and although these stories are just fiction, there has to be some sort of element of real life for any type of reader to make an emotional connection.
I love a hero who falls madly, deeply and fiercely in love with his heroine, making her the center of his world, because that’s really what most of us want deep down and probably why we read romance novels in the first place. I definitely love a hero who is alpha, but not in the “I will control everything you do and eat and say” kind of way, but in the “I would give my life for yours” kind of way.
Other generally loved traits of mine are: humor, sensitivity, romantic gestures, definitely a little (or LOT) of bad boy, and a little dirty talk in the bedroom is an absolute must! I don’t even mind a little bit of arrogance as long as it’s well placed and conducive to the storyline.
The thing I don’t like in a hero is a cheater. That’s just a huge turn-off for me and no matter how much he tries to redeem himself throughout the rest of the book, if he’s in a committed relationship with the heroine and he cheats, that’s a hard one for me to get over. I also don’t like a hero who degrades his heroine. That’s a definite no-go for me.
As far as physical traits go, I always make that up on my own to what I prefer, which is tall, muscular and handsome and honestly, one of the reasons I don’t like faces on my book covers. I like for the reader to build their own version of the characters based on descriptions and what their preferences are. Also, a few well-placed tats are nice.
So there you go…the perfect man in the world of K.L. Kreig.


Excerpt #1 from Forsaking Gray by K.L. Kreig
    He’s on one knee in front of me and I can’t breathe. I can’t hear anything through the roar of blood rushing like Niagara Falls in my ears. I watch his mouth move. I watch him pull out a fancy jewelry box from his coat pocket and open it. I watch a lone tear slowly streak down his cheek.
    Then I’m on the ground with him, throwing my arms around his neck, whispering yes, yes, yes and kissing him everywhere my mouth can reach.
    I don’t care that we’re in public, kneeling on the dingy, greasy floor of Rocky’s. The only thing I see is the man I love with every fiber of my being. The only thing I hear is him murmuring words of undying love in my ear. The only thing I feel is his strong, comforting arms cradling me tightly to his hard, sinewy body. A body that I want more than anything else at the moment.
    “Take me home and make love to me,” I beg. I don’t want to be here anymore and I don’t know if I can wait the half hour drive to his apartment before he sinks inside of me. In fact, I know I can’t.
    Standing, I take his hand and drag him from the floor, quickly walking through the restaurant to the Employees Only area, which I can easily access because I work here. Pushing the door open and pulling him through with me, I shut and lock it and pull his mouth to mine on a groan, turning our bodies so his back presses against the door. I fumble with his belt buckle as I break our kiss and trail my lips eagerly down his neck.
“What are you doing, angel?” he rasps, his breathing erratic.
“I need you in my mouth. Right now.” I now had his jeans pulled down his thighs and was already on my knees in front of him, sinking his throbbing cock impatiently between my lips. The taste of his pre-come had me moaning, taking him deep.
“Christ, Livvy. You suck me so good.” His hips push forward, and his hand threads tightly through my hair. I look up to snare his hooded, desire-filled eyes with mine. “Harder, angel,” he demands. When I increase my pressure, his eyes break contact with mine and roll back as his head falls against the wood. “Fuck, yes. Just like that.”
I know every single thing my man loves. I know how to strum his body expertly, as he does mine, so I lightly fondle his balls, reaching back with a finger to gently stroke his perineum. His cock swells, his thrusts increase violently, and my scalp stings from how hard he grips my hair. “I’m gonna come, baby.”
Seconds later, loud bellows that can’t be mistaken for anything other than one in the throes of an orgasm, echo off the four thin walls of the lounge. I swallow every drop of his salty goodness and continue licking him until he softens.
Strong arms reach under mine and he pulls me to him, grabbing my lips in a bruising kiss. “Let’s go home. I want to fuck my new fiancée properly in private. Only my ears will hear you moan and scream for me.” His silky voice feathers in my ear, causing goose bumps to blanket every inch of flesh.
    “I love you Gray Colloway.”
    “Not half as much as I love you, my soon-to-be wife.”
    I wake from my dream with tears streaming down my face. I haven’t dreamed about the night Gray asked me to marry him in years. It shreds my already butchered heart to microscopic pieces. I was deliriously happy that night. We went back to his place and made love until the sun rose.
After only four hours of sleep, my father called, begging me to come home. He sounded scared. I thought something had happened to Alyse. It wouldn’t have been the first time. I left my sleeping fiancé a note that I’d be back soon, but when I got home, Alyse was nowhere to be found. Instead, standing in my father’s living room was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And he was surrounded by his gun-toting, roughneck pack mates. I’m here to tell you, a loaded gun in your face by someone who isn’t afraid to use it will make you do just about anything.
The next choked words out of my father’s bleeding mouth changed my life. “They’re here for Alyse.”
My father. I had missed so much of my life because of my father, because of his weaknesses. Peter Wilder may be the monster that literally held my life, and that of my family’s, in his hands, but my father was the catalyst. The decisions he made led us all to where we all are today. His greed, his lack of integrity and his selfishness had far reaching effects on so many lives.
    Even in death, I’ll never forgive him.
They didn’t want my father’s life to pay his debt. No, that would serve them no purpose, so they took his daughter instead. While Peter wanted Alyse, he settled for me. But I would selflessly do it again. With Alyse’s fragile state at the time, she would not have survived a man like Peter Wilder; he would have broken her within a week. It took him far longer with me.
I did the only thing I could to save her. I threw myself on the proverbial sword. I married a man I did not know, a man I did not love…a man who turned out to be the vilest, most ruthless and cruel of men to ever walk the planet.
It’s over. It’s behind you, Livia. After over three years of tortured hell, I’m free from both my literal and invisible chains, and my sister, Alyse, is safe and successful and happy and healthy. In love. That’s what matters. She has no idea the fate she escaped, and it will stay that. My single regret is that I crushed the man I loved in the process of saving my sister.
My phone rings, pulling me out of my reverie. I quickly wipe my eyes and silently curse the fact that I had to run into Gray again. Now I feel like I’ve taken several steps back in my ability to cope with the circumstances the universe decided to hand me. I may not be living, but I was at least surviving until I laid eyes on the man I am still in love with. The man I’d constantly thought about seeking out over the last two years but couldn’t as I was no longer good enough for him.
I grab my cell and looking down, I see it’s Alyse. “Hi Lysee,” I answer, trying to sound upbeat, when I’m breaking apart inside.
“Hey, Libs. I haven’t heard from you in a while. Just wanted to see how you’re doing. Did you get that job?”
The one concession I’d gotten from Peter was to keep in touch with Alyse, but only sporadically. He’d let me have supervised phone discussions, so I didn’t reveal anything I shouldn’t, but I was never allowed to see her. I didn’t lay eyes on my sister for three long years. When my father got ill and passed away, she couldn’t understand why I refused to come home. I told her I was in Europe and couldn’t afford the ticket back. Lame excuse, but it was all I could offer. Of course the truth was, Peter wouldn’t let me, but I couldn’t tell her that because she didn’t know about Peter. It definitely put a strain on our relationship, but we’re finally bouncing back, slowly.
“Yes, I did. I started on Monday, but the girl I’m replacing went into labor early, so now I’m trying to get by on my own.” It was Saturday, and it had been a hell of a long week. I foresaw many long evenings next week too. I would be glad when this board meeting was over because next week that was my sole job. Making my boss look good. I did not want to get fired and have to go back to waitressing again.
“That stinks.”
“Yes, it does. But I’ll get by. I’m lucky to have gotten the job.” I was just hoping Wes wasn’t regretting hiring me.
“When are you coming home? I want you to meet Finn.”
Finn was the man that Alyse had fallen in love with. She started dating him a just a few months ago, right after we sold our father’s house, and I haven’t been able to set foot again in Detroit. The idea of going back there, where there are memories of Gray everywhere I look makes my stomach lurch. So I haven’t met Alyse’s boy-toy yet, but by the way she talks, the guy could give Jesus a run for his money. He is “perfect in every single way.”
And call me a bad sister, but even though I am over-the-moon happy for her, I just don’t want to witness it firsthand. I may be better, but I’m still human. And far from perfect.
“I can’t really afford a bus ticket right now, Alyse, but as soon as I get my first couple of paychecks under my belt, I promise I’ll come back for a weekend.” I didn’t own a car. I lived close enough to the train and bus stations that public transportation worked out just fine for me, so never saw the need to invest in a car. I didn’t even have a driver’s license, anyway.
When I moved here, Grant, the man who literally saved my life, thought it best to keep as low of a profile as possible, so no license and the lease agreement was in his name, along with my cell phone. GrantGod I miss you.
“Great. You can stay with us. Finn really wants to meet you. He keeps asking me when you’re coming.” I thought it was way too early, but they moved in together a couple of months ago.
“I’ll come as soon as I can, okay?”
“Thanks, Libs.” I smile at the nickname she’s had for me since we were kids.
We talk for a few minutes about mundane, irrelevant things before we hang up. I promised I would call her next week.
Deciding it was time to get my ass moving and be productive, I got up and threw on my workout clothes. Because I was so busy at work, I hadn’t had time to take advantage of the gym, but Addy had recently joined a gym a just a few blocks away and was able to get me a free six month pass, so I’d been enjoying running and taking some classes. I’d slept in too late for the spinning class this morning, but I’d enjoy a good run on the treadmill instead.
An hour later, I was sweaty and felt marginally better. I went about the rest of the day running errands and cleaning our small apartment, which didn’t take long. By 6:00 I had laundry done and put away, I had a cupboard stocked with my soup for the week and I was just settling down on the couch to watch Dirty Dancing when I heard the key rattle in the door.
“Hey, chicky,” Addy chirped. Striding through the door, her hands full of grocery bags, she slams it shut with her foot.
“Hey, Addy.” I take a spoonful of my hot chicken noodle soup and blow on it before shoveling it in my mouth. When she gets her groceries put away, she stands at the counter with a hand on one hip, just staring at me. “What?” I finally ask. I look down to see if I’d spilled something on me or if there was a spider crawling on my leg like last week. Just thinking about it makes my heart pound.
Yeah, that wasn’t my finest moment. Even the smallest of spiders scare the shit of out of me. The glass of milk I had in my hand wound up dripping down my face, and I let out a scream so loud, we had Mrs. Ruffalo, the resident busybody, knocking on our door asking if everything was okay. We never did find that spider. I’d been on the lookout for it ever since.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Addy asked with a disgusting sneer on her face.
“Um, they’re called pajamas.”
“Yes, I know what they’re called. The question is…why is a twenty-eight-year-old single woman wearing pajamas at six o’clock on a Saturday night?”
“Livia…” she replies mockingly. She comes over, takes the soup out of my hands, carries it back to the kitchen and dumps it down the drain.
“Hey!” I yell, jumping up from the couch, stalking after her. “That was my dinner!”
“That was an appetizer, for fuck’s sake, Livia. That wasn’t dinner. I’m taking you out to celebrate your new job. My treat.” She walks around me, but not before grabbing my hand and dragging me behind her down the hall to her bedroom.
“Addy, no. You don’t need to do that,” I argue. I hate feeling like a charity case that my friends think they need to take care of. And while I won’t be buying a brand new BMW anytime soon, with this new job, at least I shouldn’t have to feel like I constantly need a handout.
She stops ruffling through her closet long enough to shoot me a death glare. “I know I don’t have to. I want to. Besides, it’s really Kamryn’s treat. She’s meeting us at Finnegan’s for dinner at eight, and then we’re going to Firefly for some after-dinner drinks and dancing. If you’re lucky, maybe we’ll find you a nice, tatted bad boy to oil your lady bits. God knows they need it.”
“Addy, no.”
“Livia, yes. No arguments. Now go jump in the shower, slut up your makeup and put your hair in a sexy twist. And put on this hot little number.” She throws a royal blue scrap of fabric at me that’s supposed to be a dress, along with some strappy silver heels. I’ve seen this dress on Addy. It barely covers her ass, and hers is much smaller than mine. “Kam’s sending a car to pick us up at seven fifteen, so chop-chop.”
Fuck me. Really?
My friends don’t do this very often, but every once in a while they find it incumbent upon themselves to try to get me laid. They think I can’t find a man and that’s the farthest thing from the truth.
At five feet seven inches, I’m no skinny Minnie, but I’m in very good physical shape. I have curves and look like a woman should. My bright green eyes stand out against my fair skin, especially with my chocolate brown hair. I may not be runway model gorgeous, but I know I’m attractive enough to bed a man, should I choose to do so. I just don’t. Hell, my boss has hit on me enough this week, that if I went into his office, lifted my skirt and bent over his desk, he’d gladly fuck my brains out.
But there is only one man I want between my legs and I can’t have him. I simply can’t stomach the thought of anyone else there.
“Addy, I really don’t think I’m up to it.”
My best friend stops what she’s doing and looks at me pointedly. “Livia, I know things have been rough for you. I may not know who, what or why, but I see your sorrow. Whatever happened in the past, you’re here now. You’re alive, you’re young, you’re beautiful and you have a lot inside you to give. You need to live life, not be holed up in a shitty two-bedroom apartment eating chicken noodle soup for supper. And besides, I need this as much as you do.”
“I know,” I tell her quietly. “Fine. Okay. I’ll agree to dinner and dancing, but. Do. Not. Try. To. Hook. Me. Up. Understood?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she waived, turning back to her closet to pick out her own slutty attire.
I turn and stomp out of her room like a five-year old who was told she couldn’t have a cookie before dinner.
Ugh. What have I let my friends talk me into?

Excerpt #2 from Forsaking Gray by K.L. Kreig
    Livvy’s lips taste exactly as I remember. Warm, sweet and uniquely her. She’s intoxicating. She’s breathing life back into my broken heart, and I want nothing more at this moment than to be buried balls deep in her sweet, slick pussy so I can finally feel whole again. She couldn’t lie to me. She couldn’t tell me that she didn’t love me because I know the truth. I knew it the moment we looked into each other’s eyes three weeks ago.
She still does. Then why did she leave you?
I was lying when I told her I’d let her run. Now that I know she loves me, I’ll never let her leave me again.
No matter what.
Pain and darkness churn in her soul like witch’s brew, dulling her once bright eyes. I want to take it away. I want to tell her that absolutely nothing can make me stop loving her. Something happened, something she’s afraid to tell me, and I’m filled with regret that I gave up. I’m filled with self-loathing that I simply gave into the lies that were being fed to me. I failed her.
But right now I push all that to the back of my mind because, at this very moment, it’s irrelevant. Livvy’s here and she still loves me, which means she will be mine again.
And I aim to have a taste of what’s mine right fucking now.
I force myself to free her swollen lips from mine and lift her off my lap, setting her on the hard maple table. Smoky gazes locked on each other, I pull the blouse from her skirt and slowly draw it up over her head, waiting for her to protest. She doesn’t. I unhook her black lacy bra that cups her ample breasts like a fitted glove, letting it fall to the floor, expecting her to stop me. She won’t.
Neither of us speaks with our mouths, but we don’t have to. Everything that needs to be said flows between us, unspoken. We both want this with a desperation that’s almost burning out of control, belying the slow, reverent way I’m stripping her.
I break our connection and rake my gaze down every inch of her exposed skin. Her torso is bare and her skirt has ridden up almost to the top of her toned, snow-driven thighs. The darkness at the juncture of them calls my name. Chills rise on her flesh. Her berry-ripened nipples are as hard as erasers and my mouth waters for a taste, which I don’t deny myself.
She moans at the first flick of my tongue, her hands flying to my hair, pulling me closer. Fuck, yes. After only moments of teasing, I take her hardened nub in my mouth completely, sucking hard. I pluck the other between my thumb and forefinger.
“Gray,” she breathes. She remembers how hot we used to burn, just like I do.
Fuck, I’m as hard as a rock. I shouldn’t do this in my boardroom, but I’m unable to stop. The second my flesh touched hers I was a total goner.
I kiss and lave my way over to her other nipple because it’s begging for my attention too. Jesus Christ, she tastes good. No matter how many women I’ve been with, no one has, or ever will, compare to her. I’m like a starved man, unable to get enough. Unable to stop gorging. I have to be inside of her right now.
I reach behind to undo the zipper on her skirt when she stops me.
“Leave it,” she rasps.
I pull back to see what she’s really saying, knowing desperation is written all over my face. My cock pulses and my balls ache. “I need to fuck you, Livvy. Christ, I need to be inside of you right now.” I need to make you mine again.
Without a word, Livvy hops off the table, reaches under her skirt and removes matching black lace panties. Holding my eyes, she turns toward the table, leans over and shimmies up the offending fabric.
Fuck. Me. Her round, smooth ass is begging for my hand. Her glistening, bare dark pink lips are parted and my mouth hurts at the thought of tasting her.
“Sweet Jesus, angel,” I murmur, drawing a finger through her wetness, back to her puckered hole. I circle and tease, drawing a low moan from her now parted mouth.
“Fuck me, Gray. Please. I need you so much.” She sounds as frantic as I feel.
I want that too, but I’m not going to miss this opportunity to taste what’s mine either. I sit back in the chair. Rolling it close, I place her legs on either side of mine so they are now resting on the leather instead of the floor. I spread her silky thighs as far apart as they’ll go and lean in for my first lick.
And see fucking stars.
“Gray…” she groans, heavy head falling to the table.
“I’m going to eat this pussy, Livvy. My pussy. I’ve been denied it far too long.”
I grab her cheeks and spread them, using my thumbs to pull her nether lips apart and start to feast. I lick and suck until she’s moving frantically against my mouth, trying to reach the peak and fall over. I thrust my tongue into her soaking channel and feel her walls tighten around me. Jesus, how I’ve missed this.
“Gray, please, please,” she begs.
Dragging my wet thumb up to the place I know she craves it, I ease in, pulling a wail from her throat, causing her to writhe faster. I move another digit to her clit and start to circle deliberately, applying just the right amount of pressure.
She immediately detonates, crying my and God’s name over and over. It’s music to my deaf ears. I will never get enough of the way my Livvy sounds when she comes undone by my hand, or my mouth, or my cock. I let her ride my face and my fingers until she slows and her body sags.
Standing, I reach for her hips, gently turning over her boneless form. The only position that I’ve ever taken another woman in the last few years is from behind, so I don’t have to look at their faces. It made it easier to pretend they’re Livvy. So, the first time I take her after being apart for so long, I intend to look into her eyes as she bares her soul to me.
I want it.
I need it.
I crave it.
And I will have it as I sink my cock deep inside her.
“You’re so beautiful, Livvy,” my thick voice rasps. With her dark hair fanning out on the table, her fair skin radiating like starlight and the blissfully sated look on her face, she looks like an ethereal goddess spread out on an altar. My altar. Mine to take. I almost want to weep at the sight of her, and I have to keep telling myself repeatedly this is not a dream. This is real. She’s right before me, in the flesh. Her innate beauty makes me breathless.
Her lust-laden eyes hold mine as I quickly undress, my clothes joining hers in the pile on the floor beside me. With one push down of my navy boxer briefs, my straining, heavy cock springs free and it’s throbbing to finally be home. My hands slowly travel up her trembling legs as I ask the questions I’m burning to know before I fuck my fiancée for the first time in over five years. And I still think of her that way. She’s mine.
I know I should use a condom, but I can’t. It’s not like I carry them around in my pants pockets at work anyway, and I’m not waiting a minute longer to be inside her. And I don’t give a shit if she ends up pregnant. I want her to. I want to tie her to me for fucking ever so the thought of leaving me again causes her physical pain, like it did when she left me.
“Tell me you’re clean, Livvy.” I haven’t been raw with another women since her.
She nods and whispers yes.
“Tell me there’s no one else,” I choke, now running my dick up her wet slit, readying it for the hot plunge. I don’t know what I’ll do if she says yes.
“There’s no one else,” she whispers, no hesitation. I see the truth in her eyes.
I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I cover her and link her hands with mine, so we’re skin to skin, except for the fabric that’s still bunched around her waist and thrust into her tight pussy. Five years simply melt away like shadows in the light.
Our eyes lock. “Tell me you’re mine, angel.”
“Ahhhh, Gray,” she breathes, her eyes closing in pleasure.
I pull out slowly and drive again. It takes three times to seat myself to the hilt of her tight channel. Her smooth walls grip me like a boa constrictor and I know that no other man has been inside her sweetness in some time. And that pleases the fuck out of me, more than it should.
“Tell me.”
“Gray.” She turns her head away. Releasing one hand, I cup her face, turning it back, never losing my slow, methodical rhythm.
“Look into my soul and know that it belongs to only you.”
She closes her eyes. If the clenching of her inner muscles is any indication, she’s close to a second orgasm, so I stop. I deny her. Her eyes fly open.
    “You own me, Livvy. You own all of me, so. Tell. Me. You. Are. Mine.”
    Her eyes mist, she swallows hard. I move my hips, slowly withdrawing nearly all the way and thrust so hard she expels a harsh breath. “Say it.” I repeat my deliberate movements and start to feel the telltale tingling in the base of my spine. She’s so tight, so hot, so Livvy. I know I won’t last long. I rain kisses on her jaw, her eyelids, her parted mouth. I need her to admit she’s mine before I let us fall.
    “Say it, baby. Tell me you’re mine.” I beg quietly in her ear. Her body tightens. It already knows it’s mine. Now I need the words.
    Her soft reply makes my heart swell. “I’ve always been yours, Gray. Always.”
    Thank Jesus.
    Her legs quiver and her snug pussy has become even more so. Her climax is almost upon her. I’m unable to hold back any longer and with her admission, I have one sole goal. To fuck her hard, sending her over the edge one more time before I follow.
Peeling myself from her sweat-soaked skin, I grab her legs, tilt her pelvis higher and pound into her with a fierce, rough pace. Our gazes lock until the rush of rapture forces her head back, her body convulsing. I swiftly follow with the most intense, most euphoric orgasm I’ve had since the night I asked Livvy to marry me.
My legs are liquid, but I manage to scoop her up and sit in the cushioned leather chair behind me, still tucked inside her wet heat. She clings to me, her head on my shoulder.
We’re quiet, only our harsh breaths filling the room. I honestly couldn’t be more content than I am right now. I love this woman to the deep recesses of my soul and as our breathing stabilizes and our bodies cool, I realize that while it’s eating me up inside to not know what caused her to leave me so long ago, I’m willing to simply take what I can get.
She’s it for me. She bewitched me the second our eyes met and while I thought I’d done a decent job at moving on, I realize that I’ve been a shadow of myself without her in my life. I feel like I can see in color for the first time in years.
It’s funny how the mind can so easily fool itself. With the loss of someone you love, you trick yourself into thinking you’re managing, coping, living. But you’re not. You’re simply existing.
If the sun is suddenly stripped away, eventually you’d get used to darkness. You have to. It’s your new normal and you can’t escape. It becomes part of your daily life. And after so long in the blackness you fool yourself into thinking you’ve adjusted. You think you can live. Thrive, even. But then the sunshine returns and it’s bright and warm and comforting.
It’s joy.
It’s life.
It’s your salvation. And you realize how very wrong you were. You weren’t living at all. You were in a cold, lonely hell without those life-giving rays and you can finally see things clearly for the first time since you were plunged into that dark, bleak space.
Sitting here, quietly stroking Livvy’s hair in comfortable silence, I’m hit with the realization that I’ve really been living in darkness this whole time and my sunshine has finally returned. My purpose in life finally restored. My blackness vanished. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone, or anything, throw me into that dark void ever again.

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