Please, read the announcement below! I really need your SUPPORT!
My new book Hammer Up! is currently up on Amazon Kindle Scout! It means you get to read the first chapters as a sample, and nominate the book for publishing by simply clicking a button! If it wins, after 30 days you get a FREE COPY! You can either go to their page, or follow a link from my blog kolmakov dot ca. Please, vote and ask your friends and relatives as well.
The story is cheery, light, and sexy! It's definitely M rated, and all the mythology facts have been researched in scholarly sources.
Thank you for your support!
Summary of Hammer Up!:
To win the right to choose her husband, Aphrodite has to endure ten days in the company of Hephaestus, the fallen god of smithery. Except, everything about Heph freaks her out: he wears dirty clothes; he limps; his sacred animal is an ass. Meanwhile, he thinks she's a slag, and nothing but the means to an end.
Do you want to learn the Greek myths the hot way? Surprisingly accurate mythology, Cockney speaking gods, and frisky erotica are mixed in this story full of humour and romance.
Cheers,
Katya Kolmakov
Torunn was raising her voice, tapping her foot in irritation, and Fili threw her an amused look.
"You cannot limit me this way! You have allowed me these changes..." She pointed her index finger at the schematics on the table between them. "And now you're negating them!"
"Lady Torunn, I have been quite clear from the start that if the shipments from the Iron Hills do not arrive..." She made a scoffing noise, and Fili suppressed a smile. Not many allowed themselves such insubordination. And she was indeed lovely in her indignation: he appreciated her will, her determination, and her impudence - since it was caused by her stubborn pursuit of what she thought was best for Erebor. "We have discussed it. Would you like me to remind you?"
"No, thank you, my lord. I do not experience early onsets of scattered memory. But if you could only allow me to pull the funds from some other renovations..."
"And have me break my word to other engineers and architects? You will endanger my authority."
She pouted and plopped in the chair across from him.
"And besides," Fili continued in a nonchalant tone, "You do realise what they will think if I favour your works over other's?"
She sat with her arms crossed on her chest, and lifted her eyes at him.
"That you were wise enough to see my veracity?" she answered grumpily, and he laughed.
"Or that I am under your thumb," he drew out, and she gave him a skeptical look.
"You have always been, are, and always will be under no one's thumb, my lord," she quipped back, and rose. Fili followed, smiling widely to her. He loved that she said it; and he loved that she thought so; and perhaps, he liked to think so too. "Well, since you - as usual - decided everything yourself, we will conclude our meeting earlier. I have a matter to attend." She jumped out of the chair - he watched her her march to the doors. There was a spring and assurance to it. He then shifted his eyes, immediately ashamed of his very masculine gaze on her round hips and pert buttocks. "I have an errand to run for Lord Thorin..."
Fili's breathing hitched, and he felt his jaws clench unconsciously. She was opening the door, and he shouldn't have said it now, since someone could be in the passage, but the words spilled, venomous, in a raspy voice, "There are rumours of the two of you, you know."
She quickly looked back at him, her eyebrows lifted in surprise, and then she pursed her lips.
"Well, there are rumours about me and every male Dwarf who comes within a cloth-yard from me." She gave him a stern look over. "But I was not aware that even the mightiest in the Kingdom are prone to calumny."
The door banged behind her quite loudly. Fili cringed, and exhaled sharply.
At dinner, which was for once a small occasion, with only Balin, Dwalin, and Bofur present besides Fili's closest relations, Fili watched Wren move food on her plate. Over half an hour and five courses he hadn't noticed a single piece to travel from her fork into her mouth - and then she excused herself.
"Is your wife ill, Thorin?" Dis asked a second after the door closed behind the woman.
"Pardon?" Thorin finally diverted his attention from Bofur, who had once again pulled him into a lively discussion of the wine shipments from Ered Luin. Thorin then looked at the empty seat near him. Fili gritted his teeth. "She has been feeling unwell, aye. I'm sure it is nothing to worry about," Thorin answered in an offhand tone, and returned to his conversation.
"Have you asked whether she needs anything, Uncle?" Fili's voice was unpleasant.
Thorin stopped mid sentence, and there was an instant when he was silent and immobile, and then he slowly turned and looked at Fili.
"I am well aware of my wife's needs, Fili. She is cared for." The tone was dark. Did Fili rightly guess a menacing note in it?
Their eyes locked, the two men sat wordlessly, and then Bofur cleared his throat and asked something loudly. Fili was the first one to shift his gaze.
Torunn knocked at the door of Lord Thorin's chamber, and it opened, presenting her with the view of Lady Wren.
"Oh evening, Torunn." There was a relief in the voice of the redhead, and the Dwarven maiden stepped into the chamber, following an inviting gesture from the inhabitant.
"I brought your the herbs from my sister," Torunn said, throwing Lady Wren a studying look.
The redhead walked into the parlour and heavily sat down on a settee.
"Herbs?" Lady Wren's tone was absent-minded.
"She assumed you still cannot eat. These should help." Thorin pulled out seven sachets from her belt pouch, and Lady Wren gave them a doubtful look. "She said that as a healer from Men you would not know of these. Some fungi from the caves, and some moss, probably." Torunn shrugged.
"My child would be only half Dwarven, I am not certain it would be wise."
"You still don't eat, do you?" Torunn asked strictly. Lady Wren shook her head mournfully. She looked ill. Torunn disliked being around the sick, and the weak; but she also hated being unable to help.
"Maybe it's just the question of what you eat. Aren't there some cravings involved in this frustrating matter?" she asked, failing to hide the sarcasm in her tone, and Lady Wren's lips twitched in a small smile.
"There are some indeed. But I didn't want someone to start asking questions..."
"Well, that's just ridiculous. You're the wife of the former King Under the Mountain. If you suddenly crave a baked ram's head, you should be able to demand it at once."
Lady Wren's face suddenly gained a green tinge.
"Oh, Maiar, the thought alone..." She pressed a hand over her mouth, and shook her head.
"Well, alright!" Torunn rushed to speak, terrified of potential vomiting. "What is it that you want? Something very much un-Dwarven, I assume?"
"Nettle soup," Lady Wren asked quietly.
"Nettle soup?" Torunn wasn't sure she heard right. "It's grass of sorts, isn't it? The stinging one?"
"When it's dried, and fried, it can then be turned into soup. One is to eat it with sour cream, and a boiled egg." There was shy wistfulness in the redhead's tone.
"Mahal help me," Torunn muttered, "I think I might vomit from the sheer sound of this recipe. But if it's what you want, you should be able to get it. Do they cook it in Dale?"
"It's an Enedwaith dish."
"Then I'll sent for it tomorrow. Oh wait, can it be any nettle? I'm sure someone can go and pick up some in the Erebor Valley." Torun marched to a small desk by the wall. She picked up a quill and a parchment, and pushed them into Lady Wren's hands. "Here, write down the recipe. I'll have my cook make it tomorrow. And then I will bring it in the evening. No one is going to snoop into my possessions." Lady Wren was watching her with widened eyes, and Torunn pressed her fists into her hips. "Well? You aren't writing."
"Lord Fili is right," Lady Wren muttered, shaking her head in amusement - but at least she was writing. "You're like a battle ram."
Torunn puffed some air and plopped on the opposite settee.
"Much good it's done. He cut down my funds again."
"Well, console yourself, that it is King Fili we're talking about. With my husband you would have had even less luck," Lady Wren drew out, still scribbling down the instructions for her concoction.
"Well, with Lord Thorin I at least wouldn't be distracted by how blue his eyes are, and how soft the waves of his hair are, and the smirk, and..." Torunn stopped herself, and scoffed irritated by her own mawkishness.
"Good to know," Lady Wren answered, and Torunn threw her a quick look. The redhead had quite an innocent look on her face, but Torunn remembered the words of king Fili.
She had been aware of the rumours, of course. Sizing up a situation, calculating possibilities, and planning for every outcome - such was her vocation. She had just hoped that Lady Wren wouldn't believe the worst - and that King Fili would. As much as she admired his mind, his perceptiveness, and his rationality - she still hoped male possessiveness would take root.
She had made sure that her behaviour with Lord Thorin was impeccable, of course. She admired the man, but nothing more. Preserving her budding friendship with Lady Wren was much more important to her than being in his good books - after all, she had nothing to discuss with him, and nothing to gain from interactions from him. Lady Wren - once her first shyness had passed - was an engaging conversationalist, had a fresh unusual perspective, and a perverse sense of humour, so similar to Torunn's. The man was a grump and, to be honest, quite boring; his wife wasn't at all.
Torunn also knew that a smallest rumour of a competition would be enough for a man to become agitated - if there had been already a seed of interest in his heart, that was.
"You should tell him the truth," Lady Wren suddenly said, and rose to dry the ink.
"Tell whom what?" Torunn asked, watching Lady Wren carefully sprinkle the pounce on the parchment.
"Lord Fili. You need to tell him that your heart is… unattached, at least when it comes to other Heirs of Durin."
"Why?" Torunn asked abruptly, and then cringed. She tended to be blunt when emotional. Most of the time she tended to rely on her acumen and wit. Being affected, and even more so, bathetic, was disturbing.
"Because if you don't, it'll seem to him that you lied. That you played along with the nonsensical gossip to beguile him. And the result will be quite the opposite from the one you desire." Lady Wren came up to her and handed her the parchment.
"Who said I desire any… result?" Torunn bit back in her unfortunate habit to argue for the sake of arguing. She knew it about herself, but couldn't help it sometimes.
"His blue eyes and the softness of his waves, perhaps," Lady Wren answered impishly, and Torun burst into laughter.
"Fair enough." They laughed together, and then Lady Wren sighed.
"Shall we start a lesson then?" she asked, and Torunn nodded.
They sat down near each other, and Torunn opened the book she'd brought with her.
"These are the Karthu 'Urd, the Erebor style ruins, that we learnt last time." Torunn pointed at the page. "Do you think we need to review them?"
To be continued...
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Romance/erotica webserial Jack in the Box
Armed with several degrees in psychology, sociology, and literary studies, as well as a particular set of skills and abilities, Gemma Wright works as a muse for artists in various creative fields. She can inspire a hit album; pull a popular novelist out of a writer's block; or organize an international tour for a dance company.
Gemma has strict rules and a precise plan for her personal life - and Jack Richards, a famous mystery writer, definitely doesn't fit her criteria. Perhaps, his direct competitor, John Barnett, with his soft manners and seemingly humble disposition, is a better match for Gemma than the dark and handsome Richards.
Understanding others and leading them to the fulfilling and rewarding life is Gemma's specialty, but does she know the answers to the same questions when it comes to her own life?
{Updated every Thursday!}
4. A romance/erotica/drama webserial "Dr. T Series" on my blog kolmakov dot ca
Summary: Wren Leary, a young biochem student is placed before a choice: Will it be Philip Durinson, the self-assured ball of sunshine and a uni stud, or his cantankerous and mistrusting uncle, John Thorington? The first one is her friend, the second one regrets that night in the tent. Wrennie is in a pickle.
{Updated every Saturday!}
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My book on Amazon!
CONVINCE ME THE WINTER IS OVER
Available on Amazon in Kindle and Paper!
Summary:
Renee Miller is a reclusive web designer who, after several hours of delirium from flu, wakes up to find a stranger in boxer briefs standing in her bathroom.
John is an archaeologist who finds himself stuck in a stranger's flat in a snowstorm.
Frozen in her neat and clean world of highly functional anxieties and her history of childhood trauma, Renee is perhaps the worst possible host for her flatmate's boyfriend's colleague. Yet, while the fervent gush of life that is John Greaves disrupts her carefully guarded existence, Renee finds herself gradually yearning for more.
Is John the first breath of Spring in her frigid world?