AuThursday – A. Catherine Noon & Rachel Wilder

Good Day Readers I thought we’d switch gears and speak with writer A. Catherine Noon, in regards to her writing with a partner (Rachel Wilder) So, How long have you (and Rachel) been writing together, and how did you meet?
A: We’ve been writing together almost four years now. We met on a message board that centered around a series we both loved, and we didn’t get friendly right away. We got to know each other over time and then started beta reading for each other. After that, we started phone calls and I flew out to meet her, since we were talking about writing original fiction together.
I knew it would work when she met me at the airport. I called her and asked where to meet her and she said she was in baggage claim, under the Chippendales sign. My kind of writer!

Q: Do you each have a specific writing style?
A: I’m not sure how to answer that, since I write in so many different styles. It really depends on the story and the voice of the main character.

Q: What is your writing process? How do you come together to write as one voice?
A: We get asked this a lot and it’s a hard one to answer, because it’s such a personal process. We are on the phone or internet chat daily and we really are in each other’s heads. When we draft a story, the other one reviews the scenes; we don’t start editing until the main architecture is put together. Then, the editing and revision process help make things consistent and produce on coherent voice.

Q: What do you think is the biggest misconception in erotic romance fiction?
A: That it’s mommy-porn. What a sexist, ignorant comment that was – and it’s ironic it came from a man, putting down literature women like to read. I think erotic romance fiction is, first and foremost, about a search for connection and a search for excitement. To do that well, the story must be crafted well or it’s not plausible.

Q: To date which of your books was the hardest to write and why?
A: I think TIGER TIGER was the hardest to date. We had about 45% of it drafted but then changed directions, based on what we learned from writing BURNING BRIGHT and because the story changed in some fundamental ways. Trying to wrestle that into a coherent whole, and make sure it read consistently and not choppily, was really tough going. It’s a helluva lot easier to draft from the start to finish, rather than have to bridge stuff together.

Q: How did you come up with the title?
A: We were inspired by William Blake’s poem, Tiger, Tiger, Burning Bright. We chose BURNING BRIGHT for the first book because we don’t reveal Neal’s a tiger until about chapter 19. Then there’s a whole mystery in TIGER TIGER that revolves around the…
Oh, sorry. Don’t want to spoil it for you. ~grin~

Q: What are your current projects?
A: Currently we are finishing EMERALD KEEP, which is the second book in the Persis Chronicles. After that, we come back to Chicago and TJ Butler, one of the tigers who appeared in the first two books.

Q: Do you have to travel much concerning your book(s)?
A: “Have to,” no. “Want to,” definitely. We’ve been to Madison, Wisconsin; Galena, Illinois; and Homestead, Iowa, all in pursuit of locations. When we plan trips, now, we figure out how to use them in stories. It’s a lot of fun. We hired a tour guide here in my town of Chicago, expressly to better understand the neighborhood where we put Burning Bright. Rachel and I have both lived in desert environments, which feature in our Persis Chronicles. I would love, one day, to take a trip on Virgin Galactic so I can get first hand experience of space flight. We both love to travel.

Q: Do you have any advice for other writers?
A: Ignore what anyone says, and write your heart out. Put your truth on the page. Keep writing, no matter what happens. Jody Lynn Nye, one of my favorite writers and an awesome instructor, has a workshop entitled “Not Unless the House Is On Fire.” She’s right, you know. Make writing a priority and hold onto it with all four feet. You can do it.

Q: Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?
A: The Chicagoland Shifters series:
Book 1 BURNING BRIGHT, available from Samhain Publishing.
Book 2 TIGER TIGER, available from Samhain Publishing. An All Romance eBooks Bestseller!

The Persis Chronicles:
Check out EMERALD FIRE, available from Torquere Books.
Watch for “Seeking Hearts”, coming soon from Torquere Books.

Check out “Taking a Chance”, available from Torquere Books.
Check out COOK LIKE A WRITER , available from Barnes and Noble.

My links: Blog | Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon | LinkedIn | http://www.pandora.com/#!/profile/a.catherine.noon
Knoontime Knitting: Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Ravelry
Noon and Wilder links: Blog | Website | Facebook
The Writer Zen Garden: The Writers Retreat Blog | Forum | Facebook | Twitter
Publishers: Samhain Publishing | Torquere Press

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Saturday Sexcerpt – Royal Pains by Dakota Rebel

Royal Pains

CAUTION: M/M interaction ahead.

“You know,” Jamie said, slamming the door behind him as he stalked into the bedroom a few minutes later. “Ultimatums are dirty and underhanded, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Yeah, well I don’t appreciate being lied to. You have a minute and a half to be naked or I’m gone Jamie.”

He ran at me, tackling me onto the bed and kissing me so hard his fangs nicked my lips. His hands tore at my clothes while I ripped his off, too.

“Seven seconds to spare,” I said with a grin. “I knew you’d come.”

“You’re an asshole,” Jamie said with a smile that was obviously forced. “You know I have to go back to work tonight, right? I don’t want to fight again when I have to leave.”

“And I’m the asshole,” I growled. I wrapped my arms around his waist and flipped us so I was on top of him. “Yeah, I know.”

I sighed into his mouth as his lips parted for my tongue. I knew it had been wrong to blackmail him into paying attention to me, but he hadn’t given me many options lately. If it ended with me getting my way, I wasn’t above petty tricks. Lord knew Jamie acted the spoiled brat often enough. Maybe, he needed a taste of his own medicine.

“Would you really have left?” Jamie asked suddenly. “If I’d ignored your message would have left me?”

“Maybe,” I said. “I don’t know. Probably not.” Even to me it sounded pretty lame.

“Gee thanks,” Jamie said, shoving me off of him.

We turned on our sides to face each other, staring into each other’s eyes as if we could read the other’s thoughts. But things had been so tense between us lately that neither of us would let our expressions give up any information.

Finally, knowing that he was going to be a stubborn jerk and make me talk first, I just gave in.

“You have to know how mad I am at you, Jamie.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But you have to understand that I’m under a lot of pressure. I’ve never ruled anything, and I don’t want to fuck it up. I don’t want to lose you, and I don’t want to start a vampire war that ends up getting us killed.”

“Don’t you think you’re being just a tad dramatic?”

“Maybe. Hell, I don’t know. So many things can go wrong when powers switch, Ethan. Not everyone is happy about Graham being killed and me taking his place. They don’t really care that their old king murdered my parents and by vampire law the city had to be offered to me. All they’re focusing on is that Queen Stephanie handed over the throne to an outsider. I think that some of the advisors are making decisions behind my back or completely ignoring things I ask them to do. Everyone walks around like they know some big secret, and no one tells me anything. I know they don’t respect me, and they don’t seem to fear me either. It’s been a fucking nightmare.”

I ran my finger down his cheekbone and across his jaw. He let me kiss him softly but pulled away when I tried to hug him.

“Jamie, I wish you would have told me all of this was going on,” I said after a minute. “If I’d known how bad it is maybe I wouldn’t have been such a dick to you.”

He smiled and entwined his fingers with mine, squeezing my hand lightly.

“And what would I do if Ethan Conner wasn’t a dick to me? I’m well adjusted to your attitude, sir. Dealing with it in Chicago isn’t any different from dealing with it in Royal Oak. Except here, you don’t take off to the bar after we fight.”

“No, I take off to the fucking library like some emo goth poser asshole, thank you very much. And I have to say, I don’t like it.”

“So go out,” he said, finally moving into my arms. “Go make friends and have fun. We’re going to be here forever, Ethan. You can’t keep fighting it. If you want to stay with me it has to be here. This is our home now.”

I kissed the top of his head and fought not to sigh. I didn’t want Chicago to be our home. We had a home, and it was lovely. Our families were there, our friends, our pasts and I had thought our future. I knew he was right, and no matter how hard I railed against it nothing would change the fact that Jamie McHale was the Vampire King of Chicago.

“Are you still going to fuck me before you leave again?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood a little since we had dropped it back down to despair. Though if I had to choose between that and anger, I guess despair wasn’t really so bad. What was bad was that those seemed to be my only options.

“Baby,” he said, climbing over me and flashing a genuine smile for a change. “I will do whatever you want me to do.”

“Careful,” I said against his lips as I kissed him. “I’m awfully selfish. If you go making statements like that, I could seriously ruin your evening.”

“Say it,” he said, pulling back to stare into my eyes. “Anything you want tonight and it’s yours.”

“Stay with me,” I said softly. It was barely audible, but he heard it. He nodded as if he knew that was the only thing I needed from him tonight.

“I will.”

The momentary twinge of guilt I felt at asking him to abandon his post for the evening disappeared with his agreement to do it. I could feel bad about it later.

He forced his tongue between my lips and teeth, tasting every inch of the inside of my mouth he could reach with the warm, wet muscle. My cock grew harder at the feel of him pressing against me, and I feared I might come before we got anywhere. After all this time, he still had that effect on me, and I still loved it.

 

AuThursday – Dakota Rebel

Please Welcome Dakota Rebel to the Clog Blog, so Dakota, what books have most influenced your life most?
Not to sound stereotypical or anything, but Dracula had a huge impact on me and on my writing. I found Bram Stoker when I was young, probably too young to be reading it to be honest, and my world view changed. The dark, romantic and heartbreaking sadness of that book just took my breath away. It made me fall in love with vampires and with star-crossed lovers. The book had everything: action, love, friendship, sex, death…it was the perfect storm of plot to an impressionable mind.

Q: Do you recall how your interest in writing originated?
Like a lot of authors, I don’t remember not writing. When I was in first grade I was writing stories about a girl who turned into a bird and flew away from home. (I guess even at the tender age of six I loved shifters.) I’ve always had piles of notebooks filled with angsty poetry, half-assed plot lines, title lists and broken lines of dialogue. Honestly, I believe I was born with the writing gene and as soon as I could form letters with a pen I was rushing to get all of the voices out of my head and down on paper.

Q: Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?
Writing blurbs is about the hardest thing an author has to do. You’ve written your book and as an author you feel that every single piece of the story is relevant and important. Condensing a novel into a paragraph or two is damn near impossible. And yet we must do it for every book, every time. I often wait until the last minute so that I am forced to write something, otherwise I can stare at a blank document for hours trying to pick and choose which parts of the plot I can smoosh down into one or two sentences. Yeah, blurbs are rough.

Q: Do you have any advice for other writers?
My number one piece of advice for authors is to never, ever stop at the beginning of a sex scene in your book. When you’re writing erotic romance and your characters are in the mood, guess what? So are you. You are in the moment with them. Don’t think that you can take a break and come back and find that their chemistry and yours are still meshing. You need to keep with the flow of the narrative. Get them going at the very least. If you absolutely must stop, at least stop in the middle where you’re more likely to pick it back up later. If you get them to the bedroom and put them on pause, they could stay that way for a very long time.

Q: What do you think is the biggest misconception in erotic romance fiction?
That it is porn for women. First of all, it is not porn. Erotic Romance is just what it says, romance that doesn’t shut the door on the realistic aspects of a committed union. People who are in love have sex, it’s natural and beautiful and part of their story. Erotic romance just includes those scenes that old-school romance censored. Secondly, women watch porn on the internet just like men do. We don’t need to dress it up with a pretty name. We have porn thank you very much.

Q: Which one of your covers is your favorite and why?
My cover for Vamplet is probably my favorite. I love how the artist was able to tie the skull in and still make the men look sexy as hell. It is also one of my favorite stories that I’ve ever written, so that helps as well. The colors and the tone and the feel of the cover so convey what the story is about that I just adore it and always will.

Q: What is on tap for the rest of 2013?
I never really know what is going to strike me next. I work a full time day job, plus I have two children and a husband who for some reason like to spend time with me. I write when I am able to carve out the time and I have an idea on which to work. Seldom do those two things occur at the same time. I know I would like to finish working on Reagan, a follow up to my ever popular novel Mitch. I would also like to start the sequel to Kiss Me You Animal. Plus there are a few single shots that have been rolling around in my head trying to gain traction.
So unfortunately I don’t have any hard and fast plans for the rest of the year. Just things that I would like to do and probably won’t.

Q: Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?
I use my blog for pretty much everything. People can always find me at dakotarebel.net. Once you hit the blog there are links to my Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest pages.

Saturday Sexcerpt – The Wizard’s Heart by SR Howen

WizardHeartbkStanding in the makeshift shower, peace descended in a comfortable blanket. Nighttime birds sang and whistled to each other, a frog croaked bass, and the crickets formed the string section. Conceivably, Cryant lived far enough away from the city for the emotions of those in the city not to carry into his compound, to reduce the overflow from battering at her shell.

Sorann let down her guard, expecting a deluge of energies to cause her to feel dirty again. A dog barked and went silent. The pig grunted in its pen, perhaps upset at having its mud rearranged. But no feelings invaded her. In her palace rooms, a shield stayed in place to protect her from the invasion. Could the same be true of Cryant’s canvas?

Dim moonlight spilled in when she pushed the flap aside. She stepped outside marveling at the emotional vacuum she found herself in. Silly to think Cryant could afford the spell needed to empower a canvas to keep out the extended aura of others.

The sky above her wore a sprinkling of bright stars on an inky background. The cool night air caressed her skin. Goose flesh rose over her entire body. The hard ground under her feet felt warm with leftover heat from the day. The stones she stood on glowed in the faint luminosity of the yard light, wet here and there, the water from the shower ran in twin streams on each side of the stone path.

The clarity of her mind extended beyond her in the absence of others emotions and feelings. The world came to her in clear brightness–a veil of gauze lifted. She ran her hands over her stomach, her own skin felt different. The bumps caused by the cold felt alien and as she ran her hands over them, she could feel the tiny hairs on her skin, a chill shook her. She hadn’t even realized a barrier existed between her own hands and her flesh before.

Animal smells came to her, the scent of the soap was even stronger. Why did everything feel magnified? Perhaps subdued?

A result of the shell she kept in place? She’d lowered the shell before, and it wasn’t like this–not even in her rooms with their encasing spell. She spun around holding her arms out in the moonlight. She caressed her own arms, enjoying the feel of the gooseflesh on them. She laughed at the feel of the mud between her toes. She stepped off the path and took slow steps with her toes spread, so the mud curled as it squished between her toes. More laughter escaped her. Her hands traveled to her breasts, her nipples went hard in the cool breeze–had that ever happened to her before? Perhaps she hadn’t felt it?

“Sorann, you dressed?”

With a gasp, Sorann scrambled into Cryant’s robe. It stuck to her wet shoulders; luckily, it was over large for her. With quick movements, she wrapped her hair in the towel.

“Yes,” she called back. “I just need to re-rinse my feet. I . . . I accidently stepped off the path.”

“I’ve got soup on.” Cryant stood holding up the door flap. “Stay on the path.”

She quickly rinsed her feet in a clear puddle that remained on the platform under the barrel–the water mixed with mud creating patterns as it ran off her feet. Still puzzled, but prepared for the onslaught of Cryant’s life, she moved to the slice of light coming from Cryant’s doorway.

Cryant moved back so she could enter without touching him. Sorann almost tripped over the threshold. Nothing came from Cryant, no feelings, no buzz singing along her nerves in a stinging assault.

The upper wall revealed how the home stayed warm. Inside, plaster coated it, and, going through the door, she saw the wall consisted of two parts with what looked like straw stuffed in between.

The inside of his home held the aroma of potato soup and fresh bread. A slightly musty smell road on the tail of the soup. She rubbed her nose. Things in the room, a small wooden table with two chairs, a handmade broom leaning in the corner, two glow lamps, and a braided rug jumped into clarity. Things in her life were always fuzzy, smells, sizes, shapes, colors–all made so, she assumed, because of her constant battle to keep out the everyday life of others.

Perhaps the hog knocked her unconscious and this was the result? A dream? She pulled Cryant’s robe up around her neck, aware of how low the neckline rested over her breasts. The fabric carried a slight scent–a slight male scent. Cryant’s robe hadn’t been laundered since the last time he wore it.

“Here, sit by the fire,” Cryant told her. He stood near a makeshift clothesline stretched across the room. Using wooden clothes pins he hung her now clean clothes so they would dry.

Sorann carefully sat on the chair nearest the fire. Cryant finished hanging the clothes before he retrieved two wooden bowls from a homemade shelf hanging over a tin washtub. He spooned soup into both of them and set them on the table.

“Thank you,” Sorann managed. Questions tumbled through her mind. Why could she let her guard down in Cryant’s house? Why had she been so overwhelmed at first, but now–now since Cryant touched her in the pig pen–skin to skin, she didn’t need to be on her guard? Was it possible Cryant’s left over aura on his clothes allowed her a measure of control? Maybe Cryant himself?

Cryant picked up a small crate from near the fireplace and brought it to the table. He set the box on the floor in front of Sorann and set the thin towel covering the top aside. Small bird voices started up in a demand for food. Sorann pushed the chair back ready to spring away from the birds. She stopped.

“You saved the birds?”

“Some of them,” Cryant answered.

She peered back into the box. Birds. Young birds. The way they looked–one with a bandaged wing, another laying with its neck outstretched and its sides heaving as it tried to breathe.

“I can’t heal them,” Cryant said. His voice carried a note of sadness.

Slowly, Sorann reached into the box. She touched the gasping bird and almost shrieked when she felt its young body hit the pavement. Instantly, she knew about the bird’s broken bones, its injured ribs–the bird struggled in her grasp. She set him back in the box where he strutted around the other injured birds squawking and chattering at her.

“You healed him,” Cryant blurted. “But . . .”

Sorann reached into the box and one at a time she picked up the hurt birds. When she set them down they strutted about whole and healed. Cryant leapt to his feet and brought out a small cat from behind a curtain hanging around his bed.

He held the tiny black cat out to her. Sorann took the kitten in her hands and saw from the cat’s point of view the cart coming towards it and felt a flash of pain as the cart ran over the kitten’s leg and hip–her body didn’t feel as though she’d been run over. The cat’s feelings didn’t overcome her. She used her hands to completely surround the cat and in moments it struggled to be free. She let him go, and he ran to the box of birds and began batting at them. Cryant picked the kitten up.

“Out you go, but not in the street this time,” he said. He shut the crooked door over the curtain after he scooted the cat outside. “What they say about you, it isn’t true.”

Sorann looked up into his blue eyes. Lines creased his forehead, his thin face betrayed his puzzlement. She’d never noticed the shadow of stubble on his face before, or the tiny scratches, perhaps inflicted by an injured animal, like the kitten.

“It is true. I can’t heal. I get caught up in the emotions and can’t even diagnose what’s wrong because I feel as if all the things are happening to me. I don’t understand this at all. With animals, you aren’t supposed to receive the clarity to diagnose and heal the way you attain it with a person, but I didn’t expect to simply hold them and poof they are back to normal.” Her stomach rumbled, and she felt as if she’d eaten her last meal weeks ago.

“Eat, eat,” Cryant said and shoved both bowls of soup toward her.

She picked up the slightly bent spoon and touched a small bite to her tongue. Flavors exploded across her mouth, rich deep flavors of spices and onions she’d never experienced before. Spoonful after spoonful, each one a new adventure in taste and satisfaction until she cleaned both bowls of soup without a thought.

“Do you think the stories, you know from the Lost Lands, the ones about The Dark Towers are true?” He spooned more soup into the bowls.

Sorann glanced up at him and continued to shove food into her mouth. Her stomach kept begging for more with rumbles and demands she couldn’t ignore.

“I mean, the orange cat, outside, the one with three legs, sometimes, it almost feels like she is trying to talk to me.”

“The stories about those dark wizards turning their enemies into animals?”

Cryant nodded.

Sorann chewed more food. She let out a small laugh. “I don’t think there is enough magic left in the world, dark or otherwise to turn people or animals into something else.”

“But isn’t that what we do with our gift?” He sat back and spread his hands on the table in front of him. He snapped his fingers shut. “Isn’t what we do magic of a sort? We take broken bones and turn them into whole bones, something other than what they were.”

Sorann stared at him a moment before she spooned more soup into her mouth. Around the food, she said, “Broken bone that was once whole bone, not something entirely different. Take the cat, where would all the difference in mass go?”

“Still, I think I would like a cat who could talk to me and could understand what I say.”

“I had a cat once, when I was small, I used to think she understood what I said. I think they do on many levels, if I can feel what they have eaten and their enjoyment, then . . .” Sorann shrugged. She looked up at Cryant after her spoon scraped the bottom of the wooden bowl.

“I’m sorry. You lied when you said you weren’t a good cook. I’ve never tasted anything, well, anything so full of flavors. I didn’t mean to eat all of it,” she added with a glance at the empty pot.

“Never mind. I have more friends in need, will you . . .?”

Sorann laughed, energy jumped along her nerves–she could heal. A miracle had happened this night–the speck of dust that sparkled with light–a wish fairy, if any still lived with the bounty on most things magic? Sorann laughed again, whatever had happened, she could heal. “Yes, yes, I will.”

AuThursday – SR Howen

SR HowenPlease welcome S.R. Howen to the Clog Blog! So SR, where are you from?
I live in the sticks, in the hind end of nowhere, central Texas.

Q: Who is your favorite author and why?
A: This is a hard one; there are a number of authors that I read regularly. Right now, the one author I always buy is JD Robb. I like that her (Nora Roberts) in Death series, is a subtle SciFi, with a romance that doesn’t hit you in the face.

Q: Who has had the most influence on your writing?
A: My grandfather and my dad. Both are gone now, but things I learned from them still influence me. And it often comes through in my writing.

Q: Have you had any “ah ha” moments as a writer?
A: Many years ago, I had the idea that the only way to write a novel was to make an outline, and make character sketches, and location sketches, and then outline some more. I never got anywhere with any novel. It was like once I had done all that work, and setting things up and the back ground that the story was already told and it refused to go onto the paper. My ah ha moment came when at a writer’s conference in CA, the speaker, a well-known author was talking about writing without an outline, up to that point I had never heard of such a thing. For me that was a turning point, I discovered how to write, what worked for me.

Q: What, in your opinion, are the most important elements of good writing?
A: The mechanics. Grammar, Language, punctuation, all of it. You can have a good idea, even a need to tell a story, but without a basic understanding, and mastery, of the basics that’s all it will ever be, an idea, that won’t look the same on paper as it did in your head. I tell beginning writers, that they wouldn’t put a roof on a house without knowing how to swing a hammer, so why try to write a book without knowing the basics?

Q: Would you tell us a little about your new book, The Wizard’s Heart, Book 1 in the Tales of the Zingari series?
A: The Wizard’s Heart is a fantasy romance story. The Zingari are a tribe of gypsies who have had their land stolen from them by the royal family in the name of preventing a prophecy that would destroy the queen and take away her ruler ship. When the queen’s daughter meets the leader of the gypsies, they must set aside their differences to save the land and reveal the truth.

Q: What was the most difficult aspect of this book?
A: I’d never written a formula romance before, or traditional fantasy, dragons, and fairies and spells. So this book was getting out of my comfort zone and trying something new.

Q: What books can we expect to see in the near future?
A: Right now, I am contracted for a third book in my supernatural horror series, Medicine Man, and for two more Zingari books from Wild Child Publishing, and an erotic romance mystery, Life Flight, from Freya’s Bower. I’m also working on a paranormal erotic romance, as yet not contracted.

Q: Is there anything else you’d like to share about the Zingari books?
A: The majority of my characters are American Indian. With the exception of The Tales of the Zingari series. I like the idea of writing what I know as well as writing contemporary characters who share the struggle of what it is to be a modern Indian, and leave the stereotypes by the roadside.

Q: Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?

Facebook http://www.facebook.com/srhowen
Facebook Author’s Page http://www.facebook.com/srhowen1
Blog: Critters at the Keyboard http://srhowen1.blogspot.com/Author Web page http://www.srhowen.com/
Twitter https://twitter.com/SRHowen
Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3119305.Shaunna_Wolf
Book Blogs http://bookblogs.ning.com/profile/SRHowen
Author’s Den http://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?id=166698
Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/
Linked In http://www.linkedin.com/pub/shawn-rh/54/1a7/9b6
Pinterest http://pinterest.com/srhowen/boards/

Join me on Saturday when we read an excerpt from, “Wizards Heart~Tina

Saturday Sexcerpt – My Mr. Manny by Jennifer Garcia

My Mr. MannyI had never seen this man undressed before. Standing in my room, feeling shy all of a sudden, I watched while he removed his clothes and unveiled his beauty. In all honesty, I didn’t know what to expect. I had seen glimpses of him, small parts here and there, while we groped like kids on the sofa during our movie nights. When his shirt went over his head, I savored every toned muscle and found myself eager to touch every part of him. Anxiety ran through me while my eyes bounced over every bare piece of his skin. I felt the instant need to skim my fingers through the light scatter of hair on his chest that disappeared into his jeans.

Ooh…what a teaser. I love it! My Mr. Manny is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, & Sony.

Until next time…be naughty,
~Tina

AuThursday – Jennifer Garcia

Authorpic_zps31ad6ac1Please welcome Jennifer Garcia to the Clog Blog! So Jennifer, where are you from?
I was born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts until I was sixteen.

Q: What is your writing process? Do you outline, fly by the seat of your pants or a combination of both? Do you use mood music, candles, no noise, when you write?
I supposed I’m a “fly by the seat of my pants” type of writer. Once I have a basic idea for a story, I work it over in my mind until I have it clear enough to put on paper. I need silence with no interruptions to write so I can think. Sometimes, I can turn on the TV and listen to shows I’ve already seen. It serves as background noise but is not distracting.
Q: What inspired you to write your first book?
This is actually the first book I wrote even though it is releasing after a novella I wrote. This book was inspired by a writing prompt that had a male-nanny, a manny.

Q: Would you tell us your story of getting “the call?”
The publishing call? I submitted My Mr. Manny for an Open Call at a publishing company I admire. When my call came in after the submission, I was initially told they did not want the story for their Open Call. However, even better news followed when they said they wanted me to expand it even more into a novel.

Q: What was the most exciting thing that happened to you after you signed your contract – besides receiving your first check as a published author?
The release of my first novella so far has been the most exciting thing. The novella released in July and this novel released August 27th, so I haven’t received my first check yet. But I’m sure that will trump it all. The process from beginning to end is very exciting.
Q: Do you have any advice for other writers?
To believe in yourself and try. You’ll never know what your talent is unless you put yourself out there. Don’t give up and keep on moving forward with your dream. People do not have the same taste in things, so not everyone will appreciate what you have to offer. Just don’t let that discourage you. Focus on those that enjoy your work.
Q: Tell us your latest news?
Well, my most current news is the release of my novel and being swept up in the waves of that process. I’ll be selling and signing my books at a local Olive Festival. That’s an exciting part of the process I enjoy.
Q: Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?
My blog is http://jenniferfgarcia.com and it lists all of my social media links.

Join me on Saturday when we read an excerpt from Jennifer’s book, My Mr. Manny
~Tina