#BookReview – MONSTER by Kayti Nika Raet

MONSTER COVER

YA Dystopia

Published July 18, 2015


Don’t Get Killed

In MONSTER, Kayti Nika Raet does it again, bringing the fierce and amazing with her fourth installment of The Outsider Chronicles. Set mostly in the city of Cherai, MONSTER recounts Niko’s desperate struggle to maintain control of the city while killers roam the streets, Slithers haunt the dark spaces, and death and desire commingle in such unfair interplay that one can only close their eyes, hold their breath, and hope.

For what, I’m not sure.

A happy ending, I doubt it.

Perhaps some hints of laughter and light, here and there.

Maybe.

But that’s a conversation for book five.

Right here and right now I can tell you that MONSTER grabs hold of the reader from page one and never lets go. As usual, Kayti excels in the action and fight sequences, thrilling and terrorizing with each slash of a blade or hiss of a Slither. She also exhibits a mastery of the quiet, the fraught, the hushed.

There is not a single extraneous word anywhere in Kayti’s manuscript, each one matters, and you get the sense they’ve been pored over and considered and studied with the eye of a meticulous word warrior determined to bring her readers to their knees. And here she succeeds tenfold.

MONSTER, for all its horror and despair, is full of the feels. Everywhere.

Grief.

Love.

Fear.

Need.

Hunger.

Pain.

Devastation.

It’s all here and it’s brutal and gorgeous and stunning and you find yourself wanting to stay lost in Kayti’s world of perfect words forever.

And then for a raunchy bitch like myself, there’s Chapter 37. I kind of feel like Kayti wrote that chapter for me and my filthy little heart. #TeamSonghay because really, must you ask? And if you must, don’t. Just get the book already.

The first time I read MONSTER, I told Kayti she did the impossible and wrote the perfect novel. After reading it a second time, I stand by that statement: MONSTER is perfection.

Bravo, Kayti, you badass #WriteBitch.

Oh, and girlfriend, if you’re starting to smell yourself right now, thinking about all the ways to kill Songhay for your big grand bloody finale, you better reconsider, love. #justsaying

#WednesdayFreeWrite – WINDOWS

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WINDOWS

I said I wouldn’t do re-runs
I didn’t do re-runs
and yet here I was
re-running all over the place

Because the fact remained
he was hot
and I hadn’t seen him in forever
and yeah, I was kinda drunk

So when he asked
“you want to hang sometime”
I didn’t think to say no
or remember what a waste of time
he was last time

I just smiled and said “sure”
because the fact remained
maybe this go ‘round
he wouldn’t be scared
or treat me like I was made of glass

Maybe this go ‘round
he’d pull me to him
and press his full mouth to mine
while his hands slipped under my skirt
and between my legs
because fuck all of that other sweet shit
I wanted something dirty
and raw

“Come by my place around 8.”
And already the night held promise
because he wasn’t being all gentlemanly
and stopping by to pick me up
and he wasn’t asking me what I wanted to do
he was taking charge
making decisions

His place around 8
was really his roof around 9
under a starry sky
five floors above Manhattan’s cacophony
in our own world of tequila shots
dirty jokes
and sexual tension

Lying on a blanket
side by side
shoulders touching
breath hitched
desperate for him to climb all over me
determined not to make the first move

Because I didn’t do re-runs.
But already he was looking like one.

I laced my fingers in his
and turned his way
a mischievous grin curving my lips
and thought to myself
“this motherfucker is finally going to kiss me
and then maybe he’ll grow some balls
and fuck me, too.”

I licked my parted lips
and waited
thinking on all the ways
his long fingers could have their way with me
how his full lips would feel
exploring every curve and ridge of my body
and practically making myself come
as I imagined riding his big, thick dick
under that starry sky.

Of course, none of that happened.
Motherfucker didn’t even kiss me.
He was like a deer caught in the
bright of my desire
and I just couldn’t be bothered anymore.
I was too young to be wasting my time
on limp-dick motherfuckers
who shook in their shoes
every time I came around.

I pushed up from that gorgeous roof
and looked down on his stunning face
and cursed myself for believing
this time would be different
this time he would be man enough
to fuck me like I wanted
needed
deserved.

He had his chance
three times too many
and now
finally
it was official
I wasn’t playing.
We were done.
Finished.
That window closed.


My #WednesdayFreeWrite series is based on what I write during the 10 minutes allotted my writing group’s Wednesday Prompt. This week’s prompt was WINDOWS. It’s unedited and unscripted and just super loose and probably my favorite ten minutes of the week. It’s perfect in its imperfections and I hope you enjoy.

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#SundaySnippet – DUTCH, The Keeper Series Book One

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Arrogant, handsome, and detached, deadly assassin Dutch Mathew has an insatiable appetite for bourbon, cigarettes, and women. A Keeper for The Gate, the shadowy organization designed to control Death and her Poochas, those reclaimers helping the dead cross back to life, he has three simple rules for anyone sharing his bed: no talking, no kissing, no touching.

Juma Landry is all about talking and kissing and touching. The more talking and kissing and touching, the better.

And as one of Death’s Poochas, the best in fact, she is Dutch’s next assignment. He is tasked with ending each and every one of her nine lives but with her sharp banter, beautiful smile, and hips made for all kinds of wickedness, she isn’t going to make that easy.

Set in New York City and Trivandrum, DUTCH, book one in The Keeper Series, is a unique and sexy urban fairytale – a must read for anyone who likes their raunch with a twist of romance and a hint of magic.

Add it to your Goodreads “to read” shelf by clicking HERE and watch for it to hit stores this Fall 2015.


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Michele, My Belle

For someone who loves playing around with words and fitting them together to make these smutty stories and kinda filthy poems, there are few things I find difficult to put down on paper. I can kill and maim and titillate and tease, and I love doing it. All of it.

But every so often there are moments I’m left a little speechless and words fail me.

This week I’ve been having some of those wordless moments where it’s difficult to give my thoughts and ideas the justice they’re due. However, now that it’s Friday and I’ve had some time for things to sit and simmer and marinate a bit, I think I’m ready to give it a shot.

If you’ve been following my blog for a while, or read my trilogy, The Sanctum, then you know my friend, Michele Mason Holmberg, designed the gorgeous and unique covers for those books.

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They’re fucking stunning and I love them, mostly because they don’t fit the genre – there’s no girl with long, flowing hair, wielding a weapon with a wicked gleam in her eye. Instead, there’s the outline of a woman’s curves that is artsy and sophisticated and utterly original. A hint of something quite magical.

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Michele continued working her gangsta for books II and III and I really didn’t think she could outdo herself after the brilliance she displayed when designing The Prophecy. That silhouette of Wyatt and Dev to this day grabs me and gets me all in the feels.

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But I was wrong because my favorite Art Bitch has gone and done it again.

Last weekend I hit her up, told her I needed a cover for Dutch, I wanted it stark and simple and chic, but also a little scary. I told her I wanted some sort of symbol for Dutch somewhere small on the cover and then maybe Juma, for book two, could have her own symbol and then I sent her a very artsy drawing of Ganesha and threw around suggestions like cigarettes and bourbon. And Michele, being the patient and loving friend she is, listened to it all. All of my nonsense and babbling and talking about other projects I want to start – she heard me out, then told me to wait a second, and a few minutes later, sent me my cover.

And I was rendered speechless.

Because she’s an Art Bitch, the baddest one I know, and that’s how she gets down.

It’s sexy and scary at the same time and so, so Dutch. And I totally can’t wait to reveal it, but that’s another post for another day.

Right now, I want to tell her thank you, in a very public way, one that might not be her favorite because for some reason she likes to keep her gangsta on the down low, but I’m going to do it anyway. Michele is the best and I’m really so lucky she’s in my life – not just for the stunning covers she designs on my measly budgets, but also for the magic of her friendship, the generosity of her spirit, and her banging ass quinoa salad.

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I love you, girl.

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#WednesdayFreeWrite – RIPE

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RIPE

Render me senseless with your beautiful words
and delicious mouth
and filthy tongue
make my pulse race with the sexy of your intelligence
and your cutting wit
and your sharp humor

In you I lose myself to touches
and sighs
and otherwordly moans
I find myself surrounded by heat
and lust
and crazy desire

Please
touch me
suck me
fuck me
don’t stop
when I scream
when I writhe
when I come

Envelope me
in the tangled mess that is you and me and us
wrap me in your arms
and legs
and heart
fuck me tonight
own me forever

as I am ripe for the picking
should you decide to make me yours


My #WednesdayFreeWrite series is based on what I write during the 10 minutes allotted my writing group’s Wednesday Prompt. It’s unedited and unscripted and just super loose and probably my favorite ten minutes of the week. It’s perfect in its imperfections and I hope you enjoy.

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