Welcome Samantha Ketteman to the spotlight!
Samantha Ketteman has resided in southern Illinois for 7 years, (though still claims to be an Alabama girl), with her husband and three crazy demon children. She started reading novels at a very young age and decided two years ago to write for herself. She is working on The Forgotten series, as well as two others. She is a caffiene addict, insomniac, and general basketcase most of the time. When she's not writing, she's thinking of writing, much to the chagrin of her husband who has to listen to her paranormal ramblings.
As she sashayed her way to the center of the stage, exaggerating the swing of her hips with each step, she glanced around the few rows that were in her line of vision. The spotlight focused on her made it impossible to see further. It looked as if it was a full house tonight, which was a good omen for her rent fund. She gave a small, slow sexy, smile, and sauntered over to the giant gleaming pole standing like an old friend in the center of the stage. As she swung around in a circle, back arched out from the pole to better display her more prominent assets, she was mentally singing along to the song. Kaira hated this song, but it seemed to go hand in hand with the costume she was wearing for the night, and she had a whole routine devoted to this particular outfit and song. Sadly, this was one of her more popular costumes and characters. She shimmied down the pole, spreading her legs and bending over before sliding her backside back up the pole in a move that would have made many women blush; or fall over; or both. She turned to face the pole, jumped up, and then maneuvered herself so that she was then sliding down the pole head first, gripping it with her legs. She slid all the way down to the floor before releasing the pole, rolling over, and crawling her way along to the first row of eager faces beaming up at her.
“Over here, sweet thang!” she heard amidst the hollering and cat-calling going on above the music blaring from the speakers. She crawled along the edge of the stage, frequently sitting up on her knees and swaying to the music, gathering the bills that were being held out to her like candy being used to lure little children towards strangers. She silently wished, for the thousandth time, that she could just reach out and gather the money in her hands, but as was custom, she had to let these alcohol soaked men place the bills in the side of her G-string or other miniscule clothing items. She had lost her plaid schoolgirl skirt sometime after her midriff baring; button down shirt had disappeared in the first couple of rotations around the pole. Now she was crawling on all fours in a skimpy G-string and a rhinestone bra made for a child instead of an abundantly endowed woman.
Where to get Aprhodite's Secret: http://www.amazon.com/kindle/dp/B00BLVB9M0/
Where you can find Samantha Ketteman: