Tell us a little about yourself and your background?
Author of passionate embraces, deceitful devotions, lustful encounters, corruption, and betrayal, as well as desire and seduction. Faye Hall is an author of Scandalously Steamy Australian Historical Romantic Suspense novels. Born and raised in North Queensland, Australia, she uses the tales of local history, and the struggles and adventures of her own family, to bring her characters to life in a uniquely, rural setting. Her fast-paced stories incorporate scandal, crime, suspense, and seduction to pull her characters along on unique stories of love and romance.
How do you make time to write?
With a family of 5 schoolchildren, this is very hard! I have learned to write where and when I can, and use late nights and early mornings to my advantage.
Do you believe in writer’s block?
Yes, I do. It happens sometimes for the strangest reasons. Other times it happens because of a bad review or feeling low because of struggling achievements.
Tell us a bit about the genre you write and why you love it.
I write Steamy Historical Romantic Suspense set in Australia. I love it because I get to tell the stories of the earlier generations from my area of the world and the struggles that drew them together.
How are you publishing your recent book and why?
I’ve turned all my books to indie publishing recently, with the help of my family-run publishing company. It was a long thought-out decision, but after having 3 small publishers close down and return my rights to me, it was the most logical option. And I’m enjoying the freedom it allows me for now.
Are you an Introvert or an Extrovert? How does this affect your work?
I’m an introvert, married to an introvert, who birthed 5 other introverts. It doesn’t really affect my work, but it does make promoting a challenge. I get too nervous to speak for podcasts. I live in a rural area, so author events aren’t a thing, nor do I desire to travel far from home to attend such things.
What is your favorite motivational phrase?
“If you don’t like something change it; if you can’t change it, change the way you think about it.” – Mary Engelbreit
What advice would you give to aspiring writers?
To write from your heart even if it’s not always well received at first.
Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?
Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share with us?
Needing to understand what was driving his actions, Phoebe followed Raymond at a distance. Perhaps his need to push her away had more to do with his life rather than her own. For all she knew, he could be married with children waiting for him back home. Her gaze narrowed as she studied him at a distance. Raymond didn’t look like the type to be a floundering snake. If anything, he looked more like the type of man who needed to be possessed by a woman, his every movement governed by hers, expecting the same loyalty in return. Even the thought of such devotion made her heart skip a beat.
The sound of splashing water up ahead dragged her from her musings and her steps slowed as she nestled in amongst the thick scrub surrounding the creek. Peering through the branches, she stifled a gasp as her stare rested on Raymond moving about in the water. Her gaze shifted to the moving fabric hanging from the tree, and her eyes widened. She’d never seen a naked man before, certainly never watched one bathing. Part of her wanted to be brave and walk out and join him, but her cowardliness kept her firmly in her hiding place. He’d pushed her away so many times already, she couldn’t bear for him to dismiss her should she try to join him.
Phoebe should go back to the camp, but she couldn’t force herself to turn away from the man swimming in the creek. Watching him stand, his torso leaving the water, droplets covering his skin, she ached to wipe them from him even if just to feel his firm skin beneath her fingers once more. Though she called herself a fool for allowing such thoughts to enter her mind, she couldn’t deny she wanted more than his skin against hers. She wanted to be wrapped in his embrace, his soft voice begging to share unspeakable passions with her, quenching the hunger he stirred inside her that she could no longer ignore.
“I seem to remember you calling me a bastard for watching you bathe,” Raymond yelled, turning toward where she was hiding in the bushes.