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Monday, May 9, 2011

Congrats to AC Katt for WINNING 1st Place in the Erotica Catagory of the NEC RWA Bean Pot Award

AC Katt 1st Place in the Erotic Catagory of the
New England Chapter of
Romance Writers of America
Bean Pot Award

2011 Bean Pot Certificate

You can learn more about this contest and company at

Get your copy of this award winning novel at Placida Publishing

Find out more about this Award winning author at

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Monday, January 3, 2011

Personalized Marketing at AC Katt's BlogTalk Radio

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Monday, December 27, 2010

Appology from AC Katt Email

Wanted to send an apology to all that received an email from AC's yahoo account. Please look for news from her main email account.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Anya Meets One of her Alien Mates

This is a scene from The Sarran Plague where Dr. Anya Forrester first meets one of her alien destined mates.

“Thirsty,” she whispered. A strong, gentle hand lifted Anya's head. She nuzzled closer, breathing deeply of fresh linen, vanilla and man—definitely man.
“Drink, Pa Mici, drink,” a deep basso voice rumbled.
Anya’s eye caught a snapshot of dark blue eyes, tousled midnight black hair. A thin white scar traced along the outline of a square jaw. Her vision turned fuzzy around the edges. She picked up a slight hesitation between his words and her understanding. His lips moved and she received, a nanosecond later, a weird built-in satellite delay. The hair on his muscled arm tickled across her back. His palm cupped the nape of her neck supporting her head. The thumb stroked downward. She trembled, leaning into the light caress.
The thick fingers of his other hand curved around a filigreed silver tumbler with maroon and gold swirls.
"Please, thirsty," Anya mumbled, as her lips pursed round the proffered straw.
“Careful, Pa Mici. Lips that shape beg a kiss,” the deep voice murmured.
Sweetness exploded on Anya’s tongue—a mélange of fruit? She didn’t recognize any of the flavors. Her eyes closed. The juice flowed through her mouth and down her throat easing the dryness. Voices in her mind, one here—the basso, the other, a baritone, close by. Their vibrations sang sweet music to her sex. Anya’s skin flushed rose. She reached up and traced a finger along the thin scar. Anya knew she dreamt. Her hero's face graced  the cover of every romance novel she ever read. He played an American privateer, scarred from a run-in with a British man-of-war, or maybe a Regency Duke, scarred in a duel over his sister. It couldn't be about a woman other than his sister. After all, this was her dream.
“Your skin is exquisite, Pa Mici. Do you feel us yet? ” His soft mobile lips swept light kisses across her cheek and nibbled at the corner of her mouth.
“ pirate... name," she insisted, sticking out her lower lip—her mouth in moue.
"Jonal. Rest now,” the voice soothed.
“’Tis such a good dream,” Anya whispered, as she grabbed his arm. “Please, don't make me wake up.”

The Sarran Plague will be available from Captiva Press late winter, early spring.  In the mean time please enjoy my novel, Shattered Glass, from Captiva Press at  Also visit my website at  

Monday, November 8, 2010

A Scene from the Re-release of The Sarran Plague

The deadly rash snaked up her left breast. She felt the destruction of each cell as it fell to the intruder.  She had no reserves left to fight the virus. Pain slowly took control of her mind and heart. Despite her upbringing and her supposed strong moral fiber, she longed for the end. Tears ran down her blotchy cheeks, the saltiness stinging her abraded skin.
Her body would jerk in constant spasm, not allowing even the slight respite of sleep. Her throat hurt, parched and sore from the respirator Her mouth contained an abundance of sores. No one came for Anya; the tubes in her mouth muffled her sobs and screams. She would die alone, unloved by anyone, save an orange cat. She dare not close her eyes again; she did not want to go unto the dark alone.
Wait . . . what was that? A sharp spike hit the forefront of her skull, the pain struck like lightening. Then voices began to murmur in her head. The conversation, though muted, sounded intense and masculine. It was like a constant buzz, almost as if there was a fly in her brain. Her path was inescapable, she walked toward a blue light, yet the outline of the moon — no, three moons — at her back called her name causing her to stop despite the light’s gentle promise. But the buzz, she couldn't shake the buzz, it kept getting louder. She turned toward the moons. She heard the voices, they were closer now. Anya almost understood the words. Then, the buzzing ceased.
Curiosity, one of her besetting sins, kept her following the path towards the light. The blue light called her forward; it pulled at her and promised peace. Bits of conversation began to surround her. The strange moons and the pain stood to her back.
She lifted her face toward the sky; the voices rained down from the heavens. Tenderness bathed her body. Her imagination began to overpower her; fantasies paraded through her innocent mind. Lust ran through her body like a fresh breeze caressing her skin. She felt a masculine presence. Two, she thought. Gentle fingers brushed against her nipples, and wet, soft kisses flowed across her collarbone to the back of her neck, and then, a bite. Both nipples pushed erect against the soft, thin cotton of the hospital sheet. She needed more. She felt the blood moving to her labia as the lips engorged, becoming heavy. They opened outward, throbbing.
Rational thought intruded on her arousal. Anya, you’re dying here, in pain, breathing your last. You’re a physician. You know the score. What the heck is happening?
The thought fled, and her concentration shifted to the sensation of tender touches and butterfly kisses between her legs. Her body tensed, climbing, climbing the precipice. Then there was a burst of white light, blinding in her brain. Her lower body pulsated in rhythm, leaving the hospital linens damp.
She heard a whisper, a tendril of hope, and then formed thought drifted into her consciousness. “We’re here with you,” the voices said. “We are one, BondStirred; you will never be alone again.” The thought gave comfort even as she turned from the light and headed back into the pain.

The above scene is Anya Forrester's first encounter with the Sarran WarriorPair, Jonal and Tonas.  Read more about the Sarrans in future blogs and in The Sarran Plague which will be re-released from Captiva Press late fall, early winter.
In the mean time don't forget to read my m/m rock n roll romance - Shattered Glass, from Captiva Press at  If you like this blog please follow and visit my website at 

Saturday, April 25, 2009

The Artisian Class

Art for Art's Sake

Not all Sarrans are Warriors. Some Sarran Offspring show an early talent for artistry and are apprenticed to Master Craftsmen. The piece on the left is a apprentice's first test in his craft to climb the ladder to journeyman.

The Arts thrived on Sarran prior to the Iptz. A perfect pot, a superbly worded novel, a brilliant composition, received as much respect as the derring do of the WarriorPair.

The Zyptz War and its aftermath put a period to one of the greatest periods of Sarran Arts and Crafts. The Apprentice who crafted this piece at age eleven which showed so much promise, was killed when the Plague took away his family. He had locked himself in a closet in the Apprentice's Hall and wasn't found for weeks. The Sarran equivalent of a coroner postulized that the offspring was too frightened to leave the closet and was overlooked in the planet wide emergency that resulted from the Iptz attack.

In the days I have spent on Brightstar, I have found many incidents such as this that were either in the ship archives or described to me in detail by a member of the crew. The dual sciences of phychiatry and psychology are unknown to this culture. This is a problem which we, the women of Earth will have to tackle planetwide and soon. Every Warrior on this ship suffers from a degreee of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.

I have also observed sociopathic behavior in a person of rank and I know not who to tell.

Cynthia Rose Edwina Sinclair

Journal, July 26th 9:00 am

These are the thoughts of Cyn Sinclair, psychologist and former prostitute who, although befriended by Dr. Anya Forrrseter, is an outcast among the Earthen women because of her former profession.

For additional insight into Cyn's observations read The Sarran Plague by AC Katt. The Sarran Plague is availaable from Eternal Press in an electronic format and from in print. Please visit the for additional information on the Sarrans and to enter her contests and join in scheduled chats.


Wednesday, April 22, 2009

In Honor of Earth Day

and Location...
A civilization that survived on their home planet for untold numbers of cycles has three things that many other failed inhabited worlds lacked. The first is sheer luck. The Sarran home world is located well away from the center of the Milky Way Galaxy on one of the less populated spiral arms. The placement of Sarran's star system put the planet out of the main traffic lanes for planet eating asteroids, climate altering meteors and visits from further developed war like civilizations that may have existed before the Sarrans but did not survive their own aggression. Absurdly, the Sarran's long lived civilization depended on the same mantra that every Earthen Real Estate Salesperson is given with their license, "Location, location, location." The second part of the survival triad is a planetwide civilization that began to cooperate early on issues that affected their home environment. The third is simply to learn from their mistakes rather than to persist in repeating them. In the earliest times there were major environmental disasters with fossil fuel and the unsafe use of nuclear fission. Once the Sarran Clans became aware of the environmental damage created by using fossil fuel, the ruling council incorporated the research results brought to them by the brilliant scientist Tezacron, Prince of AirClan, and incorporated his findings into Sarran Common Law long before the Codex. Fossil Fuel consumption was slashed by a quarter, planet wide each cycle thus encouraging the discovery of an alternative. Manufacturing Facilities that released nuculear waste into the ecosystem were closed immediately and soon replaced by others that ran on cold fusion. The Sarrans knew from the start that their planet was the only thing that stood between their civilization and the great void. Watching others slip into the morass of greed at the expense of a healthy environment that produced healthy inhabitants; the Sarrans did the unusual. They learned from the history of others rather than go their own way and repeat a long line of environmental catastrophe that would result in the downfall of the entire humanoid population of the sphere. The one time the Sarrans forgot this cardinal rule sowed the seeds of their future dilemna and brought the planetwide civilization to its knees in the ClanWars. The result of that scientific catastrophe -- even though a solution was sought and found, made the Sarrans vunerable in a way that they did not anticipate during the Zyptz Wars.

The Sarran Plague is available from Eternal Press in electronic format and at in print. Check out for previous episodes of The Sarran Histories or you can go to A preview video is available for viewing at Sincerely,


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