Get to know Muffy Wilson (@SexyMuffyWilson) #authorinterview #newrelease Memories & Kisses

I have a treat for you today. The lovely Muffy is on my blog to answer my nosy questions and to tell us about her new release. Now, by her own admission, she is a bit wordy...

*smiles and nods*


...so grab a cuppa, have a buiscuit or two and get to know her.

So glad you could join us Muffy!

*****

Thank you so much Doris, for having me here today. Gosh, I am so excited! Having a book (Memories & Kisses published by Yellow Silk Dreams) and two stories released in an anthology (Once Upon a Menage edited by Rachel Kenley and published by Ravenous Romance) in the same week is so tremendously exciting. To be able to share my joy and personal accomplishment with you and your readers is such an honor. You are such a generous and gracious friend, but then, I think everyone already knows that about you!

*blushes*

Thanks, Muffy. It's great to have you here. On with the questions then :-)

Can you tell us a bit about yourself?

I was raised in a military family. My father was a USAF Colonel whose work took us to all points from Alaska to France. We moved every two or three years, so I didn’t have what most would refer to as a traditional childhood, more like Leave it to Beaver meets the Jetsons. We lived in two small towns “one the economy”, near Laon AFB where my Dad was stationed, Bruyeres and Notre Dame de Liesse.  Many of my ‘firsts’ were in France as my formative years developing were north of Paris. So, my first kiss, my first taste of escargot, my first hot dog on a French baguette was at the top of the Eiffel Tower, my first bikini (I was thirteen) was on the French Riviera and I fell in love with a thirty-something lifeguard named Aldo. I thought my father was going straight to an early grave. My mother thought it charming and funny since I wound up looking like a blistered, crying lobster with the worst sun burn ever. No need to worry about Aldo. A few years later, my mother and I were shopping in Paris; it was the day she bought me an alligator handbag, a small one, with a bright red leather interior. I still have it. We were on the Champs Elysees on a corner and everyone was wailing and crying. It was 22 November 1963 and I was 14 years old. It was the day John F Kennedy was assassinated and I witnessed as the world was crushed and Camelot fell. I think I grew up a lot that day. We had to hurry home, 90 miles north. The Base was on lock-down and red alert. It was a day the world stood still yet was fiercely frantic beneath the surface.

My generation was filled with growth and exploration. It has been an exciting time to live. We wanted to explore everything: limitation, space, the human spirit, religion, segregation, peace, politics, oh God, the politics! It was a pivotal time in our growth and the growth of our country. The Viet Nam war changed to dynamics of war, so did we. I am not so sure we were equipped to take on such lofty pursuits, but we didn’t know that at the time. We burned bras, draft cards and belonged to the SDS in colleges across the country. We wanted to change the world. Looking back, we did, but I am not so sure it didn’t change us more.

Right now, after my illustrious professional marketing career of being “the first woman this and the first woman that”, I am a successful real estate agent and diva smut muffin in SW Florida.

What made you write ‘this’ story?

“This” book is a compilation of three separate stories. It is really a kind of trip down “Memory Lane”. I just turned 65 and I think those ‘trips’ are common among those of us that are aging into the stratosphere!  We know we are aging, but our memories do not; in them we are still young. Nor do they lose any steam or ardor and we can all use a moment or two to remember those times that spurred us beyond our wildest dreams. I think we all have those shared memories of stolen kisses, nubile embraces, love lost still burning bright.

Old memories are like old red wine - all the richer for time passed. And the kisses taste sweeter too. Three romantic and very sexy stories take us back to things as they once were, and forward to the wonderful times to come. Memories & Kisses has three stories of old loves remembered; a grieving woman rescued from the sea, two childhood friends growing old friendship into passionate loving, and two long separated teenagers finding that time has mellowed them both and maturity has brought a passionate intensity they had never imagined. All three stories are of rekindled love that survived decades of longing and is now ready to burst into flame.

Blurbs:

The Storm ~ a newly widowed woman unable to face the world alone and lonely, buries her husband. Overcome by grief, she walks into the rough, grinding pitiless surf in an effort to blend the gray in her heart with the gray on the horizon. She is saved from the crashing waves by a man, a bearded white haired man who brings her back to life and gives her a reason to live again.

The Park ~ two childhood friends, now adults, reunite on the eve of the dedication of their once favorite playground now slated to become a high-tech water park. The destruction of their favorite playground makes them melancholy; reliving their dreams as children in this park inspires them to greater, more passionate long buried desires they never responded to as teens, but knew existed but in their memories.

The Story of Us ~ high school friends, once nearly sweethearts, reconnect in their sixties. The Internet removes the veil of uncomfortable shyness. They are open and revealing in emails about their youthful teenaged desires for one another. They discover what we all hope is true: that love is eternal. Surviving decades, not only in the shadowed recesses of our memories, but in a kiss, a touch, a magnetic embrace love thrives.

Do you have memories of a love that once was?...of a love that was lost?...of, perhaps, a rekindled love that survived decades of longing? 

I know I do, so I wrote about some of them. Lord knows, there are more!

Tell us about your cover.

You know, all of these stories are about young people ten to Twenty years out of high school in The Park, and older lovers in The Storm and The Story of Us. I wanted a cover that evoked memories, no matter one’s age. She did that for me with her penetrating eyes, forlorn look as if she paused to rejoice in a privately shared memory. Her scarlet lips stirred the erotic by suggesting something burned deeply within her, perhaps lost love or unrequited love? She is young, younger than my protagonists, but I wanted to suggest that memories begin the moment the yearning for love and connection begins. I think she does that, She appears to be looking back, and don’t we all do that when we trip down Memory Lane? I hope her look beckons other’s to look back with her and her crimson lips suggests it is going to be a very sensuous trip.…..

Describe a typical day’s writing for us

I like to write in the morning and late afternoon. I rise and have coffee with my husband in the morning as I have for the last nearly 30 years. We chat, catch up on the news and work-out tough crossword puzzle clues together. That is early. By 8am I have usually settled the house, answered emails, messages and the mail, fed and emptied the dog. I attack my Social Media then write. With all my morning chores done, I feel comfortable catching up on what my character have been up to over night while I slept. Before I was retired, I had to get to my work and wait until after dinner to spend time with my “imaginary” friends. If I leave them alone for too long, they have way too many mischievous antics to share. I stop for a small lunch with my husband then onto the afternoon scenes. I usually stop about three until after dinner. I spend that time on household chores, commitments, banking…whatever needs my attention; I drink water all day and cocktails at 4 with my husband. I go online once in the morning and once at night. I have an addictive personality - obsessive compulsive - so I try to stay away from temptation: Facebook, chocolate, TV (although background noise does not bother me) and any kind of over-indulgence except writing.

What inspires you?

Life inspires me: the news, talking to my friends, meeting new people, any kind of growth be it plant life or the life of men and women. My son inspires me, his pride, dedication, loyalty. Where does that come from? Where does love come from? Why do I feel blue when it rains? How can swimming lift my spirits? Why do sunsets make one think of loss or love? Walking my dog in the morning mist and dew makes me feel young and hopeful, forward looking - why is that? Ask me any question and I take a voyage to find the answer which opens a tributary uniting dozens of ancillary offshoots. I could wind up anywhere and be inspired by anything. My husband says I would talk to a door knob if it would answer, I am that inquisitive. I think moving every 2-3 years with my Father’s reassignments made me interested. One has to be flexible quickly in order to assimilate and fit in quickly. We never had much time to build relationships because time was of the essence; we would be moving again in a quick 2 or 3 years.

If you weren’t a writer what would you be?

All that I have been: wife, mother, a business leader, owner and activist. What I would like to do now, if I didn’t write, I would have to do something. I couldn’t sit around watching TV. I would take piano lessons and sing in a piano bar. My aunt sang torch songs and played piano in smoke filled supper clubs and piano bars. I always wanted to do that.

I would learn Spanish, in SW Florida, there is a huge Latino population and learning to communicate properly, I think, makes them feel welcome and humanize us. I would learn Yoga and dancing. I never knew what it meant when people used the phrase, “Life begins at ---”….fill in the blank: 40, 50, 65?  I do now. Life has you by the nuts until your kids are grown, you are making good money and then retire…not that being held by the nuts is such a bad thing. It definitely has a time and place!

Do your characters ever surprise you?

My characters are a lot like me. But, I have little control over them and I have a conscious. I write what they do, where they go, what they eat, who they sleep with, whom they love (which is not always the same person…ahem). My characters live a life of freedom and a pure lack of restraint or guilt. Some of that I edit out, sometimes I elaborate on it, as the whim strikes me. Most of my characters act as though they have nothing to lose, until they realize that they do - they do have something to lose. We all do. They can’t be much different than the rest of us except in the areas off limits to the rest of us earthbound mortals. They need to win where we are afraid to go, or have been and failed. They have to show us that everything is possible and the results are spectacular.

What could you not do without when you’re writing?

Background noise and water. I like music or the TV even. I am used to having distractions, which I find comforting now. I always had to be able to do 15 things at once and then get back to whatever I was doing without missing a beat. I was the Midwest Regional Director for IBM’s Real Estate and Construction Division. Juggling balls (there I go again!), employees, crisis’, customers and executive management required I get back on track quickly. So, distractions can also be a periodic welcome relief. When my husband and I retired, I was 39. He was 53. We moved up to a little Island in the middle of Lake Michigan and Green Bay, bought a historic bar and expanded it over 13 years to a bar, restaurant and motel. One can’t do things like that if they are easily distracted. But, I need noise and water. I got a lot of noise and distraction with a bar, restaurant and 28 employees. Water, not so much - mostly beer, but it worked. Now, I need chocolate and water…whew, how times have changed.

What words of wisdom do you have for the aspiring authors out there?

Write. Write. Write. And READ! Everything and anything that interests you. Don’t let anyone discourage you, because they will try. Don’t let YOU discourage you. No one values your work and what it means to you, with the exception of YOU. “Everyone writes books; everyone has written a book.” My husband always says that. “Oh, a guy that has written another book!” It is so easy to publish a book, today; everyone is doing it. If you have ever tried, you know that isn’t true. It is a solitary life, one you live inside your head - alone. Nobody ‘gets’ it until they read something you have written and if it is erotica? You are nothing short of a porn star.

So, write, don’t get distracted, exercise self-discipline - lots of it - and bring chocolate. Pair with someone you trust. Agree to be one another’s coach, no-holes-barred. A coach is invaluable. They set a bar for you that you cannot see yourself. Listen to them and do not take it personally. They want you to be wildly successful.

Where do you see yourself in ten year’s time?

Oh, gosh…..writing, retired from real estate. Sipping Manhattans, eating chocolate, looking at great pics of young men and editing.

Do you have a favourite quote?

I do, I always have. Marilyn Monroe was burdened by such self deprecating guilt because she was beautiful, not because she was smart because she was then grew and developed herself into something no one else could be - her. When I entered the business world after dropping out of college, I was bold, assertive and devilishly determined. I also had, and still do have, a monstrous work ethic. But then I was surrounded by men; all my peers, superiors and even subordinates were men. There were two things that kept me on point. As I advanced, I made a lot of presentations. My mentor gave me the best advice I ever needed and that was that every person (all men) watching me, put “their pants on the same way - naked” which always made me smile when I looked out at the audience or board members. The chuckle leveled the playing field for me. I relaxed knowing I was one up because mine were panty hose. My other favorite quote, when I was in business in an all-man-world was:

“Any woman that strives to be a man's equal lacks ambition." - Marilyn Monroe

What can I say about that? Marilyn was brilliant, but over looked, like an undetonated armed bomb. Her intelligence and self-deprecating commitment to her career never was revealed until her death. Neither was her frailties and doubts, which we all have.

Now that I am older and ‘wiser’, if I were to have my favourite quote on my headstone, I think it would be "What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.” ...
~ Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

Do you ever suffer from writer’s block?

To say no, would be nothing but a lie. Some days, not too often, then yet…the spirit needs a break and refuses to cooperate. I feel it is a sign that I need to step back and spend some time with my husband or doing something else. Muses do talk to one another, you know. They plot against you. Sometimes, it is just better to ignore them. It pisses them off and gets them to sparring.

What other books can your readers look forward to?

I have three more books that will be released by January 2015. If I am lucky, they will all be available by the Holiday rush of Christmas. Beyond that, I have a control list of about fifteen projects which will be concluded by mid-year and 25-30 projects that will require my attention by year end 2015. Only another Virgo will appreciate how organized I am about my work. Some refer to it as being obsessive compulsive. I can role with that.

I am finishing:

“The Para-Portage of Emily” for Secret Cravings Publishing

“Taylor Savior” for Decadent Publishing

“Cheerleaders in Heat” a self-published project and collaboration with another published author.

And finally can you share the blurb and excerpt with us?

Yes, of course, from the first story “The Storm” in my new release, “Memories & Kisses”. Thank you so much for asking.

Excerpt from The Storm:

I walk to the surf, heaving for breath, weak from running against the rain, fighting the storm, the sadness, my loss - your death. I walk into the surf and keep walking. It is surprisingly warm and enveloping. I suddenly feel comforted, my heartbreak no longer a penetrating pain. I know you are with me and I seek out your embrace. I cry again, scream at the thunderous surf, and then I am gone. I can’t breathe and I am falling, rolling, tumbling in a hazy grey darkness that is wet, ferocious, and demanding. Suddenly my dizzy comfort turns to fear and I struggle against the pounding, relentless waves. What have I done? I am a good swimmer and an athlete, but can I beat this? Instinct overcomes me. My heart pounds. I start to kick wildly. Moving my arms toward the surface, the current catches me again, tumbling me over and over. My lungs burn. I lose my bearing—which way is up, down? I start to get a sickening feeling of death, my own impending death, and, just as I start to give in, I feel the hand of God grab my hair and hood in a fierce grip and yank me to the surface. I feel the sky darken and the surf diminish. Everything tastes salty, gritty, and then my body heaves, relaxed, and my world goes black.

I awake to pounding on my chest; I am being rattled and something is covering my mouth and nose. I cough, retch, and then vomit the last vestiges of the ocean from my body. My mouth is filled with grit, sand, and the salty taste of taffy. I open my eyes and see God reaching down toward me. He leans over me and the salty ocean water drips from his face to mine. He is big, strong, and gasping; he is surrounded in a glowing aura which intensifies his white hair and white beard. I am frightened. I must be dead. But that cannot be! How foolish I am. He sits me up, tenderly and gently helps me to my feet, all the while holding me securely with large strong hands and then he speaks to me.

“Are you alright, miss? You scared me near to death when I saw you walk into the surf. Why in the world….Where do you live?”

I am alive to my senses.

 “Wha. . . ?” My knees weaken and I fall further into his arms. Quickly, he catches my descent and carries me to a bench where he sits me down, moving the errant curls of hair from my cheeks, and speaks to me again.

“Where are you staying? Shall I call the police?”

I can feel my heart pounding against his chest.

“No, please, I’m . . . I’ll be fine. My key, my pocket; it’s in my pocket. Please…”

I can’t remember my hotel or where I am or why. As he unzips my pocket and removes my hotel key, he pulls my hood up over my head to shelter my face from the pelting rain. Collecting me under his arm, my body firmly in his grip, we walk slowly back to the hotel. The traffic is still sparse, no taxis to be seen. It seems to take forever. The storm is so much worse, the surf so high, sucking the wind into the watery folds as it retreats to the ocean. At once, I am so scared that I begin to tremble and yet, I feel protected.

As we walk into the hotel lobby, the bell captain approaches us and asks if I need the hotel doctor, whereupon my guardian says, “No, that won’t be necessary, thank you.” We take the elevator to my floor and I am finally in the sanctity of my room, as lonely as it is. My savior, my hero sits me in the desk chair while he goes to the bathroom and starts the shower. He returns. He is saying something to me that I can’t understand, but he starts to take my shoes off. Then he leans me forward, removes my windbreaker and sports bra, and helps me stand while he pulls relentlessly at my wet spandex knee-highs. He kicks off his own running shoes and removes his blazer. He carries me to the shower but I feel as if I’m watching the scene unfold from outside my own body. I am unafraid of this stranger.

The water is hot and piercing, but he is gentle, loving, and tender. He bathes me and washes my hair, lifting the removable nozzle to rinse the sand, grit, and seaweed from my hair and lithe body. My skin is a deep pink from the intense extreme of the cold grasp of the ocean and the heated comfort of the hot shower. His hands are everywhere, on every curve, gently caressing my skin with his soapy fingertips. He deftly, tenderly, washes my breasts, my taunt stomach and pussy. He controls himself, but I can’t let him stop. I look up at him, and notice he is watching himself bathe me. He seems to caress my buttocks as he cleans the sand from between my rounded cheeks. Unembarrassed, he rinses my body thoroughly, running his fingers though my shoulder-length brown hair. I feel safe, warmed, yet surprisingly aroused, weakened by my ordeal.

For the first time, it seems, he looks down at me. He takes me in as I look up at him, transfixed by his control. I am naked in my sorrow and my pain; he, fully clothed except for his windbreaker and shoes, smiles, touching my heart. I did not notice his erection in the shower, he is a complete gentleman. My breasts, the curve of my belly to my thigh, my face against his chest glisten in the shower, as I trust him to help me.

Memories & Kisses- read more...

Thank you so much for hosting me here today and I hope I haven’t put anyone to sleep. I know I am yawning! But, thank so much for asking me here today. I would be honored, if readers are interested, they can buy my work at:

Amazon:                         https://www.amazon.com/author/muffywilson

Ganxy:                            https://ganxy.com/i/97419/muffy-wilson/memories-kisses

XinXii:                             http://www.xinxii.com/en/memories-and-kisses-p-355588.html

Kobo:                              http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/memories-kisses

iTunes:                           https://itunes.apple.com/au/book/memories-and-kisses/id924012792

Barnes and Noble:       http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/memories-and-kisses-muffy-wilson/1120494304

All Romance eBooks:   https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-memorieskisses-1652261-356.html

Smashwords:                https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/485334

Author Bio and Links:

Muffy, author of erotic, romantic stories about love, sex, hope and passion, was born in San Antonio, Texas, to traditional parents. With two older brothers, she was the youngest, the family "princess," indulged and pampered. She adored her older brothers, following them everywhere and was surrounded by love, stimulation, and pets. Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required the family to travel extensively. The family lived in most points between Alaska and France. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and came of age in France.

Returning from France with her family, Muffy finished high school in Northern California and attended the University of California, Davis, and majored in Business Management. Muffy entered the work force, independent with a fierce work ethic, and retired at 39 from IBM as a Mid-West Regional Director in the Real Estate and Construction Division. She and her husband moved to a small Island in northern Wisconsin where they owned a historic tavern, restaurant and resort business which they since have sold. They now live a charmed life by the water in SW Florida. Muffy pretends to be a serious real estate business person but, in real life, indulges her private interest in writing sexy short stories and sensual literotica ~ Live, Laugh, Love with Passion.

Website | Blog | Twitter | Email |  Facebook | FB Fan Page | Google+ | Amazon | Ganxy | XinXii | Kobo Books | iTunes Books | Barnes and Noble | All Romance eBooks | Smashwords | Yellow Silk Dreams Publishing |

Please share your recent publications.

                Released 3 October 2014:

                Also featuring Muffy's work in this anthology of of adult Grimm's Fairy Tales, Once Upon a Menage: An Anthology of Fairy Tale Threesomes edited by Rachel Kenley (Ravenous Romance), Muffy has two erotic adaptations, The Prince, The Mermaid and The Siren ('The Little Mermaid') and The Prurient Puss ('Puss and Boots'). They are sexy, just a little naughty and best of all, they are threesomes!!

Buy Link at Amazon

Previously Published:

Oysters & Chocolate, Decadent Publishing, Ravenous Romance, Yellow Silk Dreams

#AuthorInterview with @LeaBronsen The Perfect Shoot #newrelease @evernightpub #interracial

Hello peeps, I have the lovely Lea Bronson in my hot seat today, and let me tell you.. that book of hers. Well, after reading the excerpt I had to nab my copy and it's jumped right to the top of my TBR pile.

*grins*


So without further ado, let's get to know Lea!

*****

Thank you so much, Doris, for having me on your blog!

Who hasn’t been infatuated with a sexy poster boy – actor, pop star, or football hero – even though he was unobtainable? The heroine in my Hot Model Mine series is a thriving author and hard-working mother nearing her forties. Tough, independent, and having long ago lost faith in love, she dismisses her crush on the cover model of her book to protect herself. What then can she do when that gorgeous young man surprisingly falls for her, too?

Can you tell us a bit about yourself?

I like my reads fast, hot, and edgy, and strive to give my own stories the same intensity. After venturing into dirty inner-city crime drama with my debut novel Wild Hearted, I divide my writing time between psychological thriller, erotic contemporary romance, and dripping erotica.

What made you write ‘this’ story?

It was a combination of two things. One, I saw a series of photos from a publishing convention where romance authors were posing with the cover models of their books. I thought, what if one of these ‘couples’ actually fell in love? Wasn’t such a story plausible? A plot started to form in my head, but the hero remained vague and faceless. Then I remembered a male model I’d noticed previously, who was so handsome I’d told my author friends he deserved that one of us wrote him a book. Bang! Yushka came to life, and within the next hour, I was halfway through the first chapter!

Tell us about your cover.

Sour Cherry Designs did a really good job with this one. It is truly beautiful with all these intense colors and elegant fonts, and it captures the loving couple in the hottest, most poignant scene of the book.

Describe a typical day’s writing for us

There’s no typical day. I’ll write anywhere, anytime. My days are full. In parallel with everything else I have trotting in my head, I’m constantly playing a scene or another and write it down whenever I have a minute.

What inspires you?

Anything that happens in life. Incidents I see, or snippets of conversation I overhear on my commute. Movies, photos, books… but I’ll always strive to write something ‘original’ (yeah, that sounded original, lol).

If you weren’t a writer what would you be?

*sighs* I can’t imagine not writing. If by some misery of fate I’d have the ability to write taken from me, I’d still keep on dreaming up stories.

Do your characters ever surprise you?

Oh, yes! Half of the time, they’ll do the opposite of what I’ve had in mind. I’ve got no control over them. To give you an example, before writing chapter four, I told Yushka not to kiss Andrea just yet. “Wait a little,” I said. “She’s not ready. Give her a little time.” What do you know, the rascal went and DID it. He kissed the living daylights out of her, changing the plot upside down so I had to re-outline the next chapters completely ;) 

What words of wisdom do you have for the aspiring authors out there?

Do never, ever give up, no matter your challenges. There is a world of readers waiting to discover YOUR story!

Where do you see yourself in ten year’s time?

Oh! Good question. Hopefully, I’ll have a few more books under my belt. But I’ll be the same person, loving what I do and fighting to get what I want.

Do you have a favourite quote?

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

Do you ever suffer from writer’s block?

Sometimes. Then I’ll edit/critique a fellow author’s work, do a little promo, or outline a different book. There’s always something on an author’s to-do list, and never enough time.

What other books can your readers look forward to?

The sequel! I’m currently writing book 2, Mine to Love, and hope to have it ready for submission by the end of the year. I also have an upcoming release, the erotica High-Risk Fever, an even steamier story than the Hot Model Mine series. Then I’m working on a psychological thriller, a monster of a project that will take me years to finish. I love writing that genre just as much as erotic romance! Lastly, I’m collaborating on a suspense romance novel with my talented author sista DC Stone J

And finally can you share the blurb and excerpt with us?

Blurb:

When Andrea Johnson, writing as author Cindy Vega, signed up for a Meet & Greet with the cover model of her latest book, she didn’t expect sparks to fly. Yushka is dangerously good-looking and too young for her. But their connection is instantaneous, and during a photo shoot with the two, the photographer picks up on their growing attraction. Seeing the potential for the cover photo of the century, he decides to push their comfort limits...

Excerpt:

An assistant calls Yushka’s name. Bare-chested, the Asian hunk appears from a group of models, strolls to the spotlights, and waits in front of the camera with the confident stance of a professional.

The whole place quiets as if in awe. He’s unbelievably beautiful with his tanned, bulging muscles and washboard-abs-to-die-for. When photographer Lemaître asks him to undo his hair, a black waterfall lands on his shoulders and down his back. A few muffled feminine squeals fill the silence.

One by one, authors whose books he appears on get a few pictures taken with him in flattering positions, wrapping their arms around his back or swallowed up in his embrace, beaming like schoolgirls at their first prom.

Jealousy rips through me so violently I can barely breathe, but my time is up soon, and I hate that even more. I’m non-photogenic, and seeing pictures of myself makes me sick. I’ve chosen a sexy, black top and matching short skirt for the occasion, but looking my best doesn’t help. My stomach ties in a knot.

“Cindy Vega,” an assistant calls.

Fuck, that’s me. I’m dead.

“Go,” Laurie says, giving me a small push.

All muscles tense, I leave my safe corner and join Yushka. He greets me with a placid face, but from the warmth in his pupils, I get a feeling he’s glad to see me. Side by side, narrowing our eyes from the piercing light, we face Lemaître and wait for orders.

Damn. Being so near Yushka’s naked torso is unbearable, as is the heat from the lamps shining on us. Sweat beads roll down the sides of my chest, between my breasts. He endures, too. A thin film of sweat coats his golden skin, making it glow, but he doesn’t seem bothered.

Lemaître clears his throat. “Bon. Stand a little closer. Cindy, this is for Eden Luna Publishing’s website. Officially, we want authors happily meeting their cover models, but off the record, we want sensual, we want heat. Readers will get off seeing your pictures like they do reading your books.”

Stiff as a rod, I nod agreement. I’d half expected this. Problem is, I hate being in the spotlight with so many people watching, and I hate the notion of having my photo all over the internet.

“Sooo,” he continues, “I will ask you to just stand like this, facing me, and smile. That is all. Yushka knows what he has to do.”

“Okay.”

Turning to my side, Yushka puts a hot hand on my stomach and the other on the small of my back. Though light, his touches destabilize me, as does the warm, musky scent sneaking to my nostrils.

“Closer,” Lemaître orders. “Bodily contact.”

Shit, I’m fucked.

The stud radiates heat as he approaches, sweaty chest sticking to my arm, heart beating against my skin. His crotch barely brushes my hip, but each pore in my body becomes acutely aware of him, on high alert. As last night’s intense arousal replays in all of me, my inner thighs clench with renewed want.

Whispers and low chuckles sound from both sides of the vast lobby. I try to forget the hundred eyes following my every move, but can’t help being distracted, bathed in full light and painfully self-conscious.

“That is better.” Like a shooting gun, Lemaître’s camera clicks and the flash blinds me repetitively. “Now, give him a smile, Cindy. You know the kind I want.”

My throat so dry I can’t speak, I turn to Yushka.

He’s very near, inches from my face, black pupils gleaming with mischief. Sweat pearls on his face, making him look sexier than ever. Long, black hairs glue to his forehead and cheeks. He smells of soap, his close shave making him look baby-faced.

Seemingly at ease, the heaving of his chest regular, he stares into my eyes. I can’t believe his confidence. Modelling is his profession, but how does he stay so fucking calm?

“You wanna give me a smile?” he whispers, warm breaths brushing my chin. Behind me, his large hand sneaks lower and palms my butt cheek. With that and his other fingers splaying on my stomach, he pulls me to him, making me feel the entire length and…hardness…of his cock on my hip.

I suck in a breath.

His lips curl up in a self-satisfied grin. “Hm, Andrea? You wanna give me a smile?”

Oh my fucking God. I can’t help but obey while my insides go up in flames.

Flashing his teeth, he kneads my ass with a strong hand and pushes his full erection against me. He knows what he’s doing, the devil. He knows slowly rubbing me with his cock turns my pussy to burning liquid.

Somewhere, a feminine gasp breaks the silence, followed by contained laughter.

“Très bien, we have a smile,” Lemaître says, camera clicking, flash shooting. “Thank you, Cindy, that will be enough. Next!”

Still grinning and holding my look, Yushka slowly backs off, leaving chillier air between us.

I’m frozen. In shock, lust, need.

“Come on, move it!” Lemaître calls. “We don’t have all day.” 

No shit.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy this tale of ‘impossible’ love, dead-honest and written with my heart :-)


Oh, I'm sure I will! Thanks for stopping by Lea.

Buy links: Evernight | Amazon.com | Amazon.uk | All Romance eBooks | Bookstrand

Add The Perfect Shoot to your Goodreads list!

Author links: Website | Facebook profile | Facebook page | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon | Smashwords

Mail to: leabronsen@yahoo.com

#AuthorInterview @ElyzabethVaLey Bear Heart #nft @evernightpub #newrelease

Oh, do I have a treat for you today. Elyzabeth has been teasing me with snippets from this story with what seems like forever, lol, so now it's my turn to make her squirm a little.

*grins*

Are you ready, Elyzabeth?

Greetings everyone! *waves* I’m super happy to be here today and ready to spill the beans as they say! Bring it on, Ms. O’Connor! *grin*

Q. Can you tell us a bit about yourself?

A, ….. A bit about myself...hummm… let’s see. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Elyzabeth M. VaLey and I’m an erotic romance author. I don’t stick with one label, I write anything and everything, dreams, love, adventures, steamy sex, now, in the past, in the future… As long as there is a love story to tell somewhere, I’m there.

Besides writing I like to take long walks with my black Lab, bake and sing off-key. *grin* I’d say I have an evil day job but I’m in the middle of a career change, so I’m not sure it’s entirely evil, yet.

Q. What made you write ‘this’ story?

A. …. Several things. In the first place, the continuity of the series. Bear Heart is book four of The Witches’ Mischief series and though I believe it can be read as a standalone it has recurring characters that as the series advances will be taking on a larger role. In the second place, my muse was nudging me to get my hand on another fairy tale and she wanted something paranormal. In the third place, once I discovered what fairy tale I’d be basing myself on (Bear Skin by the Grimm brothers), the hero, Simon, wouldn’t shut up. He needed to tell his story. 

Q. Tell us about your cover.

A.….. It’s pretty, isn’t it? It was created by Sour Cherry Designs and they’ve done a wonderful job. It’s my favorite cover of the Witches’s Mischief series.

Q. Describe a typical day’s writing for us

A.….. A typical day’s writing? That exists? *laughs* I wish I had a fixed routine, but sadly right now I write whenever I can find the time, which is not often enough.

Q. What inspires you?

A. ….. I find inspiration in a lot of things, but usually music plays a great role in my stories. A song’s melody or its lyrics can paint scenes in my mind and a story can start from there.

Q. If you weren’t a writer what would you be?

A. …. A musician. I’d love to learn how to play an instrument and compose music. I’d make people feel with my music.

Q. Do your characters ever surprise you?

A. ….. Oh yes! The little minions are always concocting things. I’ll give you an example, when I started writing Bear Heart, Simon was called Bernard. Almost half way through the story he taps me on the shoulder and tells me that I’ve got his name all wrong. *shakes head* I had to go back and change everything. He was right though, he’s a Simon, definitely not a Bernard.

Q. What could not do without when you’re writing?

A. …..I usually write with music. It helps the words flow better.

Q. What words of wisdom do you have for the aspiring authors out there?

A. …..Keep writing and remember that writing is a subjective business. What one person hates can be what another person loves.

Q. Where do you see yourself in ten year’s time?

A. ….. Ten years’ time? Goodness, that’s really far away. I’m afraid I don’t think that far ahead. The ideal thing would be to be writing full time… but who knows. *shrug*

Q. Do you have a favourite quote?

A. ….. Not really, though there’s something author Persephone Jones told me a while back that I try to remember when I’m feeling frustrated: Excellence takes time!

Q. Do you ever suffer from writer’s block?

A. … Yes. Even though there are always stories to tell, occasionally the muse goes off on a mini-holiday and I can’t get the words into paper. It can be quite frustrating. Not writing for a few days, staying away from the computer, reading, watching TV, relaxing, usually helps get things back on track.

Q. What other books can your readers look forward to?

A. …. Arcánús Amator, is a paranormal romance that defies time. It is contracted by Evernight Publishing and is scheduled for release sometime in October.

Q. And finally can you share the blurb and excerpt with us?

…. Of course!

Blurb

By day a bear, by night a man.

Half a century ago Simon Lancaster loved a woman. But when he committed a crime and was seduced by a witch his fate was sealed. Forced to live as a shifter by day and human by night, he becomes hopeless.

He believes there is nothing left in life for him. That is, until he meets Margaret O'Hare. An unconventional woman, Margaret makes him feel whole again, but he doesn't know if he can allow the walls he has erected around his heart to lower, no matter how much he grows to care for her.

As their time together has them becoming closer, he starts to trust and love again. But a happily ever after might not be in Simon's future as dark shadows emerge to destroy what he has built with Margaret.

Available at: Evernight / Amazon / Bookstrand / All Romance Ebooks

Excerpt:

He wandered through the woods. Head bowed down, nose close to the forest floor, scavenging for food. Then, he heard it. He froze. His heart skipped, then tightened in his chest before resuming its tempo at a speed that left him dizzy. Ears perked, he started ambling through the forest in the sound’s direction. He stopped. There it was again. Laughter. Loud, boisterous, so unladylike it warmed him from head to toe. He’d recognize that laughter anywhere, even if it had been more than a hundred years since he’d heard it.

Lifting his head, he sniffed the air. Rain washed dirt, blooming flowers, and people. His nose wrinkled slightly. He dropped his head. She was not among them. His heart slowed, beating like a sorrowful lament. She was not among them. How could she be? She was dead. He knew that. Yet—the sound of the woman’s laughter reached him again. A tingling sensation spread from his heart to his groin. Unable to resist, he headed in the direction of the sound, curious to see for himself the girl who had his late fiancées laughter but not her scent.  He knew he shouldn’t be coming this way. There was a home nearby. He recalled seeing it when he first came to live in this area and vowed to stay away from it, but Evelyn’s memory kept him moving.

Evelyn. Dear Evelyn. Deep down in his heart, he knew it could not be her. She was dead. Killed by his own selfishness and stupidity. Killed by his desire for revenge. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How many times over the years had he cursed himself for his lack of foresight?  For his impulsive nature? He’d lost count. Evelyn was dead, and he was a bear during the day and a man after sunset.

He sighed. The loud sound resembled a growl and seemed to echo in the woods around him. Oblivious to his presence, the humans laughed and squealed, clearly enjoying themselves. Simon picked up his speed. Their scents wrapped around him as he got closer. Delicious. Enticing. Crashing through the thicket, he stopped, seeing them for the first time. Quickly, he hid, certain that if they saw him, they’d flee.

There were two women laughing and running about near the stream. How they could even move was beyond him for they wore long dresses tapered at their tiny waists and flowing full of ruffles to their ankles. They wore no hats, the offending garments discarded near a tree. He cocked his head, amused at the spectacle. Clearly, these were women enjoying themselves regardless of societal dictatorship. Their cheeks were glowing pink and healthy and water dripped from their hair.

The youngest girl looked to be 15 or 16.  She had long black hair and a mischievous attitude that reminded him of a playful cat. He focused his gaze on the other woman. His breath whooshed out of his lungs. She was beautiful. Strawberry blonde hair trailed down her back and freckles dusted her arms. She laughed as the younger woman splashed water on her. Simon’s heart constricted. That laughter. The woman looked nothing like his deceased Evelyn, but she had her laughter. It was a sound full of unabashed spirit. Unable to stop himself he moved a little closer. He craved to hear her speak. How much time had passed since he’d spoken to another human being? How much time had passed since he’d been with a woman? The redhead was deliciously curvy and her wet summer dress did little to hide the fact. He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. Lust like he had not experienced in ages awakened inside of him and a bear-like sound burst from his lips.

Damn.

He stopped in his tracks and glanced at the women. They were no longer smiling. The smell of fear reached him. They hadn’t seen him yet or they would have run. He knew that. He’d lived it before. People always panicked at the sight of a bear. Besides, it was unlikely the women were alone. He scrambled backwards, eager to get away. There had to be others with them. Others that would hunt him and try to kill him. Strangely, the idea of dying at the hands of others did not appeal to him. At least not today. 

“Wait.”

Thank you for having me, Doris! And thank you Readers for always being there. *hugs all around*

Thanks for coming and answering all my nosy questions!

Author Bio:

Defined as weird since she was about eight, Elyzabeth honors the title by making up songs about her chores, doodling stars and flowers on any blank sheet of paper and talking to her dog whenever he feigns interest.

Losing the battle to the voices in her head is her favorite pastime after annoying her younger sister with her singing. Writing stories full of passion and emotion where love conquers all is her happy pill and she'll forgo sleep to make her readers live the dream.

Stalk me at:Blog
Website
Facebook
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Pinterest (Bear Heart has its own board! Check it out here)

#AuthorInterview with @EvieJayne2 #newrelease Scar Tissue @evernightpub #vampire #pnr

I have the lovely Evie in my hot seat today, so grab a cuppa and let's get to know her!

*****

Hi and thanks for having me to visit. I'm thrilled to be here.

I'm excited to be celebrating the release of my second full length PNR novel, Scar Tissue.

Q. Can you tell us a bit about yourself?

A. I'm a bit of a recluse, I think most authors are. I live way down in the south pacific in a little island country called New Zealand (where Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit were filmed.) I'm a mum to two boys and a dedicated equestrian. In fact I'm a bit animal mad. We have a flock of chooks, two milking goats, a super hyper pup, a fluffy little Shetland pony and my two thoroughbred horses. I'm trying to talk my man into a cat and a pig next. I'm lucky enough to live rurally which means I can give in to my animal obsession.

Q. What made you write ‘this’ story?

A. Hmm, interesting question. Probably the characters themselves. I'm very character driven in my work and often feel like I have a head full of imaginary friends clamoring for me to tell there stories.

Q. Tell us about your cover.

A. Well! That is a bit of a story. I struggle with covers. I'm not really a fan of romance covers in general and often find them off putting. I'm quite a private person and this is probably where this comes from. I'm really not a flaunt it kinda girl.

When I was sent the cover for my first book I just said, “Whatever, I'm not going to like anything you send me so just do what you want.” Boy did I learn a lesson. I've had so many negative comments about the white sports bra! I've come to realize I need to take an active part in my branding. So when I was waiting for the cover for Scar Tissue I was nervous. I'd already decided to be more proactive. The file arrived and I actually opened it with my eyes squinted and my breath held.

I needn’t have bothered. There is so much to like with my new cover. It's sexy without being too in your face. The color's font and style match book one, making it clear that the two books are a series. It's obviously paranormal and I feel that the models have captured the essence of my hero and heroine. Plus, don't you just love that primitive tattoo?

Q. Describe a typical day’s writing for us

A. Funny! There is no typical day for me. As I said I'm a mum and an equestrian. I write around the edges. I write when it's raining. I write on school days. I write in a notebook I keep by my bed another that's always in my car and another one that lives in my bag. I write at work on note paper. (Shhhh, don't tell my boss.) Sometimes I write on serviettes and paper bags. Then I get to sit down at my computer and transcribe. If I'm lucky (or the kids are unlucky) the muse takes hold and I'm off. When it's like that, everything and everybody gets neglected. I write for days, from morning til late in the night, I can barely hold a conversation, lose track of real life, struggle to be responsible, hardly eat or sleep and live on coffee. My long suffering family, I'm so lucky to have them.

Q. What inspires you?

A.Love inspires me. Obsession too. Those are the biggies. On a more direct level, it's often images, photographs, music, lyrics. Lyrics are big. Sometimes a whole character will be built around a single line from a song and a single photograph.

Q. If you weren’t a writer what would you be?

A. That's an easy one. An artist. Prior to picking up the pen again I was an active fiber and textile artist. I sold in arts quarters and galleries around the country and online internationally. If I wasn't writing, I'd still be doing that, but you know the muse, she takes me where she wants, so here I am.

Q. Do your characters ever surprise you?

A. Absolutely.  My imaginary friends tend to have big personalities, strong wills and are not generally the most stable characters. Because I write paranormal, they are often centuries old and their perspectives on life and their reactions too it are colored by the eccentricity caused by living so long. They tell me their stories, they direct it and I just sit back and let them speak.

Q. What could not do without when you’re writing?

A. Coffee! And quiet. Lots of quiet, alone time.

Q. What words of wisdom do you have for the aspiring authors out there?

A. Study the craft of writing. Next to actually just sitting down and writing, that's probably the most important thing. Learn how to make your work better. Learn what makes writing good and bad. Also write first, edit later. Just get the bones of the story down and worry about making it good later.

Q. Where do you see yourself in ten year’s time?

A. I'm not much of one for thinking about the future. I'm a live in the moment girl, but if I have a dream, it's to be able to live off my writing.

Q. Do you have a favourite quote?

A. 'Get off the cross, we need the wood.'

“Dry as a nuns c**t.'

and

'That went down like a cup of cold sick.'

As you can tell I have a bit of crass in my personality.

Q. Do you ever suffer from writer’s block?

A. Not so much these days, but mostly because I've learnt tricks to get around it. Drumming in the 'Write first, edit later' rule has been hugely instrumental in breaking through blocks. I tell myself that all first drafts are sh*t and just to write. I tend to block if I worry about the quality of what I'm writing. I find having a loose plot outline to follow helps too.

Q. What other books can your readers look forward to?

A. Dominion book three, obviously and hopefully much sooner than this one. Though that may depend on the book that has grabbed hold of me at the moment. This is another paranormal, though possibly it's more of an urban fantasy, with less focus on the romance. We'll see.

It centers on an unspecified species of shape shifting blood drinkers and the society they have created which is loosely based on the roman empires social structure, though set in modern times of course.

I also have a half finished PNR set in London that explores the idea that vampires don't need blood to survive, but because they're addicted to it. Blood junkies, so to speak.

Q. And finally can you share the blurb and excerpt with us?

Blurb:

            Caden James is a rare subspecies of vampire. That’s bad enough, but it’s only going to get worse. The 2^nd maturation is almost upon him, when he will fall into the Dark Dominion. Unless he can find the female fated to save his soul.
            Sounds simple, find her and stop his descent into horror.
            Except with Parry O’Morrigan, nothing is simple.
            Parry’s past has scarred her physically and psychologically, leaving her with a bone deep fear of vampires. Until she crosses the path of a fanged warrior who sets her blood on fire.
            Thrown together, the pair track the creator of a new breed of zombie. As the hunt heats up, so does the passion between them. Can Parry overcome her past, or will she let the Dark take him?
            Even if she can, Cade’s fate may yet destroy the only female he’s ever cared about.….

Excerpt:

            Lust and aggression shifted under his skin. He needed to get her under him, to mark her and make her his. Her near death at the hands of the revenant had stripped away much of the control. Bloodlust roiled through him.
He fought to keep from baring his throbbing fangs at her. He had to be sane about this. His nature could not be the leader in this confrontation.
            “You’re hurt,” he said and forced himself to take a step back from her, and then another. All he wanted was to close the gap between them. Her chin jerked in acknowledgment, but she lifted one black brow in a blasé arch.
He shifted forward, unable to stop himself, the pull towards her magnetic. Her blade rose, pointed straight at his throat. He was fully aware that with a flick of that fine boned wrist could part his head from his neck. The thought made him smile. Wild sidhe, dangerous female.
            “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.
Memories of her body pushed hard against his in that alley three weeks ago flickered in his mind. The feeling of her small muscular back against his chest, her ass pressed into the ache between his thighs. He growled low in his chest.
            “You sure?” she said.
            With infinite care he lowered his own sword. When the bloodstained tip scraped on the ground he released the handle. It clattered on the gravel with a metallic ring. Sometimes actions were better than words.
            “What else?” she said. He shuffled his left foot forward and let her see the hilt of the dagger in his boot sheath.
            “Get rid of it.”
            He bent slowly, feeling her gaze follow his movement. After tossing the blade at her feet he stood up.
            “What else?” she repeated.
            He had to smile, even though he knew it exposed his fangs to her. Not like she wasn’t fully aware of what he was anyway. Of course she knew he wouldn’t be lightly armed. Hell, her sisters had taught the Abstainer soldiers.
            He pulled his coat back from his shoulders, exposing the harnesses that were strapped to his chest, hips and thigh. He unsheathed blade after blade and tossed them at her feet like a deadly offering. Apt, his bloodstained hands were all he had to give her. No gentleness, no reverence or refinement. Those things weren’t in him.
            He was a curse, murder on two legs, death with a vampiric heartbeat. He didn’t deserve her, but he would have her anyway. He needed her to save what little was left of his soul.
            As he laid the last blade at her feet she nodded, but one of her twin swords stayed pointed in his direction. Cade fought the urge to knock it away and cross the ground between them. Not the right time for that. He’d fucked it up the first time he’d met her, manhandling her body as if he had the right. Then losing it on the revenant tonight. Could he have done anything to make it any clearer what he was?
            “I remember you, Abstainer,” she said.
            His lips curled. Good, that was good.

This sounds fabulous, Evie. Thanks for sharing with us today!

Thanks heaps and I hope you've enjoyed reading a bit about me and my work. Check me out on the links below and if you enjoyed the excerpt, head on over to Evernight or Amazon and hit Buy Now. You won't regret it.

Buy on Evernight: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/scar-tissue-by-evie-jayne/ 

Buy on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NICNAHM

Blog: https://eviejayne.wordpress.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/evie.jayne.3

Twitter: https://twitter.com/EvieJayne2

About.me: http://about.me/EvieJayne

Website: http://eviejayne.com/