Hi! I’m Kimbra Kasch.

Kim Kasch 2013 photo KimKaschTwitterpic.png


Me October 2013

Kimbra might sound like an unusual name and I think my mom made it up because my sister’s name is Tambra. So, I’m Kimbra Fay and my sis is Tambra Kay. I know, it sounds sort of silly and no one would believe it, if it were in a book…right? I guess Mom was running out of names and sort of started making them up because I grew up in a family with 9 kids. . . and only 1 t.v. so I spent my days reading and, later, writing. I love books. . .maybe because I never got to pick the t.v. shows we watched. But I’d run home after school to catch the last fifteen minutes of Dark Shadows…

I still love to run…or maybe I should say “I love to wog” (wogging is a cross between walking and jogging). Here in Portland, I love Halloween themed runs – where people don costumes and run. It’s a lot of fun…and I know those two words don’t always go together: fun…and…run. But it is.

And, with all those Halloween themed runs, I guess Dark Shadows had more of an influence than some people might think. Even today my favorite author is Stephen King. My all-time favorite book is Salem’s Lot, which brings me to my post today. It’s to ask y’all to help me celebrate my new book release of DEMON’S INK.

DEMON’S INK is the wanna-be baby of Stephen King’s Needful Things and Ira Levin’s Rosemary’s Baby.

And over the summer there have been lots of dangerous things hanging (or maybe I should dangling off the bridges)around Portland but, when a Demonic tattoo artist comes to town, everything goes to Hell, in DEMON’S INK.

This young adult novel is set in Portland, Oregon and with Halloween coming, you’ll want to have a scary story to share…

That’s where DEMON’S INK comes in: It’s about art, that’s more than anyone bargained for.

Drake and Bartos come to the Pacific Northwest, where they open yet another tattoo shop but Bartos has no trouble dealing with the competition because there’s nothing normal about his art. And he’s stealing more than clients from the local skin artists. He’s stealing their souls.

Customers fall in love with Bartos Slinderman’s tats but end up paying the ultimate price for their purchase because unlike Oscar Wilde’s Dorian Gray, they can’t walk away from their skin art and it’s beautiful until the artwork takes on a life of its own…

If that’s got you interested, here’s an excerpt to see if you’d want to read more:


Expectations can ruin everything. Like thinking my senior year was going to be something special. What a set up that was.

I should have known better than to get my hopes up.


I’d never been lucky. No one in my family was. I was probably only six when I’d heard grandpa say, “We come from a long line of losers.” He was talking to my Dad. I don’t even know about what. But, now, I know I should have listened to him.

Dad had already gone to prison, leaving Mom and me worse off than ever. And we were never good but, at least while he’d hung around, she managed to act like things were okay. Now she wasn’t even trying to pretend. Really it was way worse than that; she wasn’t even getting up off the couch any more.

I’d come home from school to find her passed out. The first couple times it freaked me out. Seeing her face-planted in the front room and not knowing whether she was alive or dead, I didn’t want to be the one to find her like that, to turn her over, to have to check to see if she was still breathing but I did. . . and I had no idea if she was high or drunk. I didn’t even care because what difference did it make? She was out of it. That was all that mattered.

So, after Dad went to jail, I was completely alone until Bartos made me a deal I couldn’t refuse but that was later.

For weeks, I’d come home after class and make a sandwich—if there was bread—otherwise it was a bowl of cereal for breakfast and dinner, sometimes I’d eat it dry because the milk had gone bad.

I knew I was going to have to get a job if I wanted to survive and I’d started looking around but that was right before everything changed.

It was late one Thursday evening. I still remember because I was thinking, “Only one more day…” I just didn’t know how right I was.

I don’t know what woke me up that night. Maybe it was the smell, the heat, the sound of my Mom screaming. I really don’t know. But I opened my eyes to the thick burning haze of a room filled with smoke.

I’d gone down into the basement that night and fallen asleep.

Looking around, I already knew there were no windows. I was trapped.

NOW, I’m hoping that you’ll want to buy the book and read the rest of the story. . .so here’s how you can do that:


AMAZON, NOOK, iBook, and Kobo

And, if you want to chat more, pop over to my website and leave me a comment at www.kimbrakasch.com or join me on Twitter or stop by and see what I’m pinning on Pinterest and, if you’ve read Demon’s Ink and have a question or simply want to share a comment, please feel free to send me an email. I love connecting with readers.

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