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24 November 2015


To celebrate Thanksgiving in the United States, we've asked some of our favorite authors to share Thanksgiving tales from their books and their favorite Thanksgiving recipes!

Let's start with the tale. If you haven't picked up KL Kreig before, do it now. KL is an author I came across this year and am absolutely in love with her writing. Check out this tale from her upcoming release "UNDENIABLY ASHER", which releases in December.

“I don’t sleep with my clients, Asher.”

 He sighs, leaning his head back against the couch, eyes going to the ceiling.

 “Fine, I’ll hire a different audit firm.”

“What?”  Shit, now I’ve done talked myself out of a job. “No…I didn’t mean that.”

 “If it means you’ll consider dating me, then that’s what I’ll do.” 

“Asher…” I hesitate, not sure I should confess so much, especially to someone who will be almost single-handedly keeping my company afloat. It will make me look desperate. Aren’t you? Shit, not only do I need the money, having CFC as a reference would be a huge coup for me. Maybe I’d be able to actually execute some of the long-term business plans I put together so long ago now. “I want the job.” I need the damn job.
He lifts his head and pins me with his beguiling eyes. “And I want you, Alyse. I want you so fucking much I can hardly think straight. I’ve thought of nothing else but you for the last two goddamn months.” 

God. His words steal the very breath from my lungs. Lungs that have been oxygen starved since he walked into my office yesterday.

“What if this doesn’t work?” I respond quietly, nervously. Christ on a cracker. Why are you even considering this, Alyse? This could be emotional and professional suicide.

 Grabbing my face again, he replies passionately, “What if it does? There’s something here. I know you feel it, too, Alyse. Give me a chance. Give us a chance.”

I can’t think when he’s touching me, so I stand and walk to the bay of windows, my back to him. I stare into the tree-lined estate, watching two squirrels pillage for food, taking advantage of the warm weather to tuck away more nuts before the snow falls.

 I try to recall my pros and cons list that I created last night, but all I keep remembering is number three on my pros list. He makes you feel alive. Everything else seems to be quickly fading away, like it was written in disappearing ink. I’m at the edge of a cliff getting ready to jump. No parachute. No harness. I’m tumbling headlong into a complete free fall.


I feel his heat at my back and watch his reflection in the glass as he moves my long hair off of the right side of my neck. The graze of his fingertips makes me shiver, my eyes falling involuntarily closed. I’ve worn a tank underneath a lavender cardigan sweater and the unfettered access he has to the sensitive flesh on my neck has my body on high alert.

“I’ve never had to work this hard to convince a woman to go out with me,” he says roughly against my ear. His lips on my skin make me moan. Lithe fingers trace the exposed flesh against the trim of my cardigan, edging downward toward the top of my low-cut tank. 

I wish like hell we were alone so he could push it off me and take me right against this damn window. His presence alone spins me completely off balance. His touch, though…it totally obliterates every last trace of common sense I possess.

“Maybe it’s good for your ego to be denied once in a while,” I pant as his lips travel down the expanse of my throat. Teeth nip gently and my breath hitches. The air thickens impossibly with desire and I’m lost to everything he’s doing to my mind, my senses, my body. “Asher…you’re not playing fair,” I breathe, trying to protest. It sounds more like a plea to continue instead.

“No point playing unless you play to win. Say yes, Alyse,” he demands against my heated flesh. His left hand has hooked around my waist, pulling me flush against his erection. By now my head is leaning back against his broad shoulders and the fingers of his right hand dip into the top of my cami, brushing against the lacy cup of my bra, while the thumb on his left has worked its way under the hem, circling the sensitive flesh underneath.

Oh God. I can’t form a coherent thought.

 This is so inappropriate. I’m in Asher’s mother’s house, for the love. I’ll never be asked back. 

“Say yes.”

“Yes to what?” I have no idea what he’s talking about. I just need him to continue putting his hands and lips all over me.He stills, then spins me so my back is pressed against the cold glass and my front is pressed against one hundred-ninety-plus pounds of taut, toned, virile man. My face is once again in his hands. I’ve quickly determined this is a position of dominance for him. 

“Possibilities, Alyse. Say yes to possibilities.” 

His eyes plead with me to agree. Without even thinking, I find myself nodding before his lips are once again on mine, our tongues dueling wildly. I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him close. My resolve slips, and I finally give in to what I’ve wanted since I laid eyes on Asher Colloway over eight years ago.


Check out book one, FORSAKING GREY, now on Amazon and  B&N


And now that you're stuffed with an awesome tale, time for the treat. One that KL loves to make!

Hot Pretzels

3-1 lb bags of pretzels
2 1oz packages of Hidden Valley Ranch mix
1 tsp dill weed
1 tsp cayenne pepper
1 T jalapeno pepper (this can be difficult to find. If unavailable, increase portion of cayenne pepper. I also sometimes throw in some Jamaican jerk seasoning as well)
1 T garlic powder
2 bottles Orville Redenbachers popcorn oil (found in the popcorn section at the grocery store. If unable to find, light olive oil and butter work just as well)

Mix oil and ranch seasoning and pour over pretzels in a large open roaster. Combine other ingredients and sprinkle over pretzels. Mix well. 

Heat oven to 200 degrees and cook for 1 1/2 hours, stirring every 15-20 min. Be sure to scrap the bottom as seasonings fall.

Cool and store in a air proof container.


About The Author

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 vicous 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).

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