Tuesday, 20 March 2012

Spotlight on Laurie Sorensen

Hello, lovelies. If you're like me, then you're always happy meet a new author and find out them and their stories. So I'm very pleased to welcome historical romance author, Lauri Sorenson, who's here to talk about herself and her book, Ravenwood: Night's Salvation. Lauri recently signed a contract with Evernight Publishing, for her novel, The Pirate Princess, so you'll be hearing a lot more about her soon enough. Let's get right into...

Lauri, tell us more about yourself and your writing.

Well, to quote Roseanne Barr, I’m just your average Domestic Goddess. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself. I’m not as ordinary as I like to think I am, you see I write in ALL my spare time, which presently isn’t much time. I started writing a long time ago, when I was around 14 years old and my maternal grandmother passed away. It was an outlet for my grief in writing poetry that I never showed to anyone. Later, it helped me to overcome my crippling shyness around age 16.

You see on the pages of my stories I was outgoing, popular and everyone liked me, I wasn’t afraid of anything. Not so in real life though. My father was Air Force, leaving us moving more than I would have liked. I used the moving around to not make many friends, though it was really the terrible shyness that overshadowed my life. The friends I did make, have become lifelong friends, treasures to be sure. I never thought I would be published, indeed had never intended to submit my work, but at the endless insisting of family and friends, I gave in, and shortly there after became a professional author with a published work under her belt, and many more on the way.

Awesome. I can certainly relate with the sentiment of writing in ALL my spare time. Your intro clearly says you didn't set out to be a writer. What did you want to be when you grew up?

When I was but a wee little thing, I wanted to be a doctor, but when I realized that math was not really my forte, I moved on to something better. I wanted to be an Air Force Fighter Pilot; boy was my bubble ever burst wide open when I went into the recruiter’s office. I passed all of their tests, and he was happily preparing the paperwork for me to sign my left away to the Air Force, when he asked me what it was I wished to do in the military. He had a poster of the F-16 Tomcat behind him and I smiled at him as I pointed and said, I want to fly those. He took a quick look behind him (as if the poster hadn’t been there before) and when he turned back around he was blinking…and stumbling over his words. I frowned because I felt like I know what was coming. He said quite simply “You can’t fly those.” I then asked him why not to which he replied, “You’re a woman.”

Of course that didn’t sit well with me, in a time where women could do just as well as men could in everything except peeing standing up. I got upset and told him that the military isn’t supposed to discriminate due to sex. He quickly recovered himself and said, “Well, you also wear glasses, and you can’t fly anything in the military if you already have glasses.” I wasn’t sure if I had believed him or not, but it turns out that all of it was irrelevant, I have asthma and it’s an instant disqualification for any branch of the military, or was back then.

What I wanted most in my life was to be a wife and mother, writing was secondary, now it is equal to being a wife and a mother. My children are all self-sufficient now, and I am not needed near as much as I would like to be, so I get the chance to write.

Sorry, I shouldn't laugh at that military story, but LOL. Okay, back to you as a write! How did you get into historical romance?

History is a hobby of mine, I love all history (with the exception of some of the more gruesome parts of our history), so it was only natural to write what I know. I haven’t limited myself to just historical stories, though, I am working on contemporaries, YA and children’s books as well, and I have even put some thought into doing a naughty fairy-tale…I’ve even gone so far as to ask my fan’s and family what fairy-tale they would want to see me write about…lol


I'm plotting one of those naughty fairytales myself ;-) ;-). What’s the most rewarding thing about writing for you?

Seeing my name on a book cover has to be the top reward for my writing. Fans emailing me and telling me they loved my book, demanding the next one as soon as possible, that comes in as a very close second.

The name on the cover of a book - yes, that's one I aspire to. I even did a mock cover just for fun. LOL.


Five Fun Facts:
  • Pantser or Plotter: Pantser (but with work I can plot)
  • Sweet or sour: A little of both really…lol
  • Vacation spot: Beach, or Greece
  • Colour: Any shade of Green
  • Hobby (writing excluded): Cake decorating

I know you said you write in ALL your spare time, but there must be other stuff you do, so tell us what it is you get up to when you’re not writing?

I used to be a stay at home mom, but now I work outside the home at a small country gift store. The store is on the web, feel free to check it out at www.cindyscountrygifts.com. I also sell Tupperware both for in-home parties and online, please feel free to check out my Tupperware Website as well at www.my2.tupperware.com/lmmccomas. Juggling everything like I do, can be precarious at best…horrible at worst. I love being a wife and mother, but I like the job I have had since November last year too, and I adore Tupperware, so I wouldn’t likely give up any of them. Time management is a big thing; you need to utilize what time you do have in the best ways possible to get the greatest affect.

(Hear, hear) Why should readers buy your book (I know, tough one, but it really does make you think. PS. ‘Because I wrote it’ doesn’t count. LOL)

I wrote my book in such a way as to bring the reader into its pages, allowing the reader to get to know Night and Satine and the other characters to the point that they can feel the pain the characters feel. It’s my hope that they will fall madly in love with both Night and Satine, and want to keep reading about them and the rest of the Ravenwood family in the subsequent books to come. If readers want to savour a story, and love history as much as I do, that’s why they should buy my book.

Great answer, and a perfect lead to my next question. Any wise words for aspiring/struggling authors?

Never give up. I almost did, and I know now that I would have regretted it tremendously if I had. It’s an adventure, there will be bad times, and there will be good times. Sometimes the bad out numbers the good, but in the end, have confidence in your work, and someone else will too. There is an audience out there for every book written, never forget that.


I like that. Please give us a sneak peek into your latest book. don't forget to tell us where we can get copies!

BLURB


Duty, love and passion take flight on the wings of destiny. Compelled by honor and duty, Night Ravenwood leaves the only life he knows to return home after his brother’s death. He’s the new heir to Ravenwood Manor and the Earldom; at home an arranged marriage awaits him with a woman he’s never met.

When tragedy strikes the newlywed couple, Night realizes he’s fallen in love with the beautiful Satine, but does she love him in return? Satine vows to make Night see his destiny includes her; meanwhile someone is willing to commit murder to keep them apart.

Will love or murder shape the destiny of this love?


EXCERPT
Night awoke with a start.

He had the distinct feeling someone was watching him. He sat up slowly, wary of who might be lurking about.

It must be near to dinner time. Night had fallen asleep without pulling the coverlet over his body and there was a bit of a chill. Perhaps that’s what woke me. He started to rise from the bed and he heard a small, almost inaudible gasp.

Apparently, the sensation of being watched had not been just his imagination. He turned in the direction of the gasp and smiled. The beautiful Satine, his bride to be, was here in his bedchamber and he was still stark naked.

The door was shut and Satine was here in the privacy of his bedchamber. He realized she must have been watching him while he slept, totally unaware of her perusal of his body. That body now responded, his cock standing up proudly for her to see. Night was inordinately pleased to find her in his room like this. If he had needed proof that she was no simpering female he certainly had it now.

Perhaps I was wrong about the simpering fool, and about her being afraid of cock. Mayhap, she is not the cold fish I expected.

“How long have you been watching me?” He cocked his head to one side. Is she a pretty shade of pink? She certainly appears to be embarrassed. After all, she has been caught in my chamber gazing at me, and here I am wearing not one stitch of clothing.

Satine turned away, obviously embarrassed. She moved from one foot to the other and could not seem to control her impulses because she turned to look at him again. “Only a moment
or two. Your mother sent me to wake you. Dinner will be served in a quarter hour.” Night raised an eyebrow, but continued to watch her without further comment.

She started to leave but realized immediately she would have to pass him to get to the closed door. He was still watching her and now a grin spread slowly across his face. She is caught without a place to go. She made a move toward the door, but stopped when he stood.

His cock jutted out from his body, hard and large, yet he did not seem to frighten her as he thought he might.

Satine’s gaze was drawn downward and rested on his swollen manhood.

Her incredible eyes widened as she saw the evidence of his desire for her, but Night saw nothing close to the fear he had expected. Pleased yet again that she was apparently not a cold fish, Night smirked. If life with Satine would go on in the future as it was now, he thought she would always please him in more ways than one. He knew he was being a rogue, but he enjoyed teasing her, though it would make it a very long, hard wait for their wedding night.

“Do you like what you see?” He smiled as she reached for the robe draped over the end of the bed.

She tried to hand the robe to him without meeting his gaze.

“Come now, you have seen everything I have to offer, and yet you turn your head from me to give me the robe?”

When he didn’t take the robe from her, Satine took a few tentative steps toward him. Once again she held the robe out to him, willing him to take it.

She squeaked as he took hold of her arm instead of the robe. Her wrist was small and delicate, and her skin as soft as Dumas’ mane. Night shuddered as he pulled her close to him and he gazed into her eyes.

“I asked you a question. I would like an answer.” Night leaned close to her face, her sweet breath washing over him, her scent a promise of the sweetness awaiting his lips.

“Wh-what was the question, sir?” Satine stammered, her body trembled, though her gaze never left his.

He lowered his head and kissed her lightly, her perfect lips giving the sweetness he had hoped to find. His tongue lightly stroked her pink lips, urging them to part. Her lips parted for him innocently and he immediately deepened the kiss. Mating his tongue with hers in a dance far more intoxicating than he had expected, Night drew her ever closer to his body, nestling his engorged cock between her legs, fitting it quite nicely into the junction of her woman’s mound. He was not gentle with her--his only thought, to possess her. Night released her wrist, only to grasp her ample derriere, her clothing the only thing between them now.

She responded to his kiss without reserve, winding her arms around his neck as she dropped his robe and arched into his body. Night pulled her closer, breaking the kiss long enough to taste her neck and stroke her bottom. Her response to him thrilled him into further action.

They fit perfectly together as if she had been made for him, and no one else. Once more he sought her lips, found them and kissed her until they were swollen. The kiss left them both panting and speechless.

Breathless, he turned her toward the door. “You should go now, before I do more things I must not yet do. I will be down to dinner shortly.” Satine gazed up at him, blinking, trembling and a little shaky on what seemed to be wobbly legs.

He opened the door and gently pushed her into the hall. She went willingly but turned to watch him.

He closed the door softly, and leaned against it to catch his breath.

She never answered my question. Did I really give her a chance to answer?

He dressed, absently wondering what his wedding night would be like.

Book trailer: http://youtu.be/BeMp5JLpkS0

BUY LINKS!

Where can we find you online?
***
~GIVEAWAY~

Laurie has graciously agreed to giveaway a copy of Ravenwood: Night’s Salvation. Just leave her a comment or question for a chance to win. Winners will be announced on Monday 26th March.


Thanks for joining me and Laurie. Have a wonderful day!


Sunday, 26 February 2012

Six Sentence Sunday: Christmas Naughties

So I noticed this cool thing called Six Sentence Sunday. It's basically that an author picks any 6 sentences from a work from any genre, whether WIP or published and posts them on their blog on Sunday before 9 AM EST. There are no restrictions on genre, heat level or publisher.


I thought it was a wonderful way of giving a sneak peak at my erotic romance novel, Christmas Naughties. I hope you like it. Here goes:
#
     He couldn’t help noticing the way her fingers caressed her wineglass and the subtle trembling of her hands as she raised the crystal edge of the glass to her lips. The tender spot at the base of her neck betrayed the heightened pace of her heartbeat. How the hell was sh­e holding it together when her entire body language screamed—
     “Would you care for a refill?” the waitress asked, drawing Peter’s attention from Hanie’s salacious look to his nearly empty wineglass.
     What he’d really care for was a private room where he could peel that black dress off Hanie’s body and sip his wine from the grooves of her feminine curves. He forced the image out of his mind, determined to stay true to his promise of being a perfect gentleman—for now, anyway. 
#
I'd love to know what you think of this snippet, so don't forget to leave a comment. To check out more snippets, go to the official site for Six Sentence Sunday. Have a great week.




Tuesday, 31 January 2012

Spotlight on Multicultural Romance Author, Empi Baryeh

Today, it is my pleasure to welcome offer my blog up to debut author, Empi Baryeh, to do as she pleases :-) That's because Empi's celebrating her upcoming release, Most Eligible Bachelor, through Evernight Publishing.

 
Over to you, Empi,

Hi Ea. Thanks for offering up your blog. I promise to be very nice :-). Hi everyone and thank you for stopping by to share in my excitement as I eagerly await the release of Most Eligible Bachelor, a contemporary romance set in Accra, Ghana.

I’m really excited about the release of this novel after getting countless rejections—called Rs in the by the literati. Most Eligible Bachelor is about a guy and a girl who meet on Valentine’s Day and fall in love. Since Valentine’s Day is all about love, it seemed like a great idea to write a story that starts on that day.

I began writing at around thirteen years of age after stumbling upon a Young Adult story her older sister had started and abandoned. The story fascinated me so much that, when I discovered it was unfinished, I knew the task of completing it rested firmly on my shoulders. Amazingly, once I decided to continue the story, the ideas and the words began to pour into her mind. I’ve been writing ever since. However, it wasn’t until another thirteen years later that the romantic in me geared me toward romance. While I also write mainstream stories, my current focus is on heart-warming romance set in Africa with African heroes and heroines. I write the kind of story I like to read – sweet and tender, but with enough passion to enthral readers who want a little sizzle with their romance. (Yes, I do have sex scenes in my stories, but I like to think they are tasteful - that means I won’t mind my fun aunt reading it. LOL). I live in Accra, Ghana, which provides the exotic setting for most of my novels.

If you hop over to my blog (http://empibaryeh.wordpress.com) on 3rd February (my book release day), you can find out how Most Eligible Bachelor came into being, and some challenges I’ve faced trying to break into the publishing world with this story!

I’m giving away a free copy of my book to one lucky commenter on this blog post. That’s right – leave a comment or question and you could win a free copy of my book. Winners will be announced on my blog on 19th February.

Now, without further ado, here’s a sneak peek at Most Eligible Bachelor.

  
Blurb
Magazine columnist Chantelle Sah doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day—not since her fiancé’s betrayal three years ago—and after botching her first assignment as a feature writer, she’s more than willing to put in a hard day’s work this Valentine’s Day; even if it means going on a date with gorgeous construction Tycoon, Lord McKenzie, and opening herself to an onslaught of all things love.

When Lord—his given name, not a title—sets his sights on Chantelle, it isn’t just work he has on his mind. But even he couldn’t have predicted the magnetic attraction between them when they meet, nor the evening ending with more than an interview. Now he has to convince Chantelle that their one-night stand wasn’t a mistake. Can he win her love without revealing a secret from their night of passion, which could prove fatal for both their hearts?


Excerpt – The First Kiss

He seemed amused by her lack of a response as he took her hand and led her back to the dance floor. The music had turned slow.

She hesitated. Slow music meant being in his arms, their bodies touching. She shouldn’t do this. Yet for some ridiculous reason, she wantedneeded, eventhe closeness, to feel like a woman again. Just for a moment. Even if she was certifiably insane for wanting all this in the arms of Lord McKenzie.

He pulled her gently, bringing her body flush against his. A tremor rushed through her. His warm breath on her face sent tiny tingles running over her skin. Heat radiated to her from each part of his body touching hers, his powerful thighs, lean hips and firm abdomen, his hand, pressed firmly on the small of her back.

When was the last time she’d been this close to a man? Her breath quickened as raw need surged through her. Far too long. Not since Martin.

Tears stung her eyes as the familiar loneliness accompanying Valentine’s Day closed in. Old love songs always got to her. She turned away from his watchful gaze, focusing on other couples huddled close together on the dance floor. Yearning pierced her heart. She gave herself a mental shake. She couldn’t entertain such thoughts. Once she did, there would be no salvation.

As if sensing her distress, Lord pulled her closer, his hold tightening around her. Every thought flittered out of her mind as soon as their gazes locked, and she began to drown in the deep pools of his dark eyes.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Chantelle.”

Was it stupid that she liked the way her name sounded on his tongue? She opened her mouth to say somethingabout how Valentine’s Day had been commercialized to the point of triviality, an occasion for errant lovers to feel better about neglecting their significant others, a day to buy enough credit for another year, one day to make the unloved feel even less lovedanything to hide how hard it was to hear those words, but nothing came out.

His face hovered just inches away. Her heart stutter-stepped; her breath snagged. Without explanation, she wanted to know the taste of his lips. She wanted to erase it all from her mind, her pain, his reputation. She wanted to simply believe he really was just the most eligible bachelor in town, and he had her in his arms.

He smiled, really smiled, not the movie star grins he’d been flashing earlier. His gaze emitted pure heat wrapped around a hint of sadness. What in the world could make a man with his looks and popularity melancholic? Surely Lord McKenzie didn’t have the same kinds of problems as mere mortals.

His fingers feathered her cheek, sending another wave of tremors through her. When his hand reached her chin, he lifted her face. Her mind barely registered what was happening before the space between them vanished. His searing kiss was nothing she could have imagined. It scorched her, inside and out. A soft moan escaped her throat before she could stop it. She melted into him, curling her fingers around his nape.

When he pulled away, her breath came in fast, shallow bursts. In stunned reflex, her fingers came to her lips, which felt swollen, having not been used for this purpose in a while. Weak-kneed and aroused, she sensed she only remained standing because of his strong arms around her.

One of the couples dancing bumped into them, jerking her back to reality.

Shoot. This evening would be more difficult than she could have guessed. How was she supposed to conduct a professional interview when she’d just kissed the interviewee, and now her mind insisted on dancing around words like ravished?
***

I hope you enjoyed that excerpt and you’ve marked you calendar to get your very own copy from Friday at:
Where else to find me online:
My blogMy website | Facebook | Twitter: @empibaryeh

 
Thanks again for stopping by and sharing this exciting moment with me. Have a wonderful week!

Empi

Wednesday, 28 December 2011

Bye Bye 2011, Hello 2012

The year is almost at an end, and sadly I didn't complete Christmas Naughties in time for publication this year. Not to worry, I'm more than half way through, so I'm hoping 2012 is going to the year for me.

I recently discovered a call from Evernight Publishing for naughty fairy tales. Now that's right up my alley (insert saucy grin). Who's about to get naughty? Sleeping Beauty...Cinderella...Little Red Riding Hood...The Little Mermaid...Snow White...

So many possibilities (muahahahahahahaha - ok, maybe an evil laugh is taking it too far). Heading back to my little grotto to think up something deliciously naughty.

For now, Happy Holidays and to each one of us having one of our naughty dreams come true ;-)

Tuesday, 1 November 2011

NaNoWriMo is here again!

This is going to be a short post. It's first November, and for those of us in the writing world, it's NaNoWriMo! (National Novel Writing Month). The aim of NaNoWriMo is to write a novel in a month. The average wordcount is pegged at 50K, meaning one must aim for 1667 words a day in order to complete the novel at the end of the month. My novel is shorter and already half done, but at the rate at which I've been going, I need some focus, hence NaNo-ing this year.

Good luck to all writers planning to challenge themselves this month.

Monday, 31 October 2011

Writer's Block: Away With You

I've been bemoaning my plight or writer's block or something close to it for a few weeks now. It wasn't that I couldn't write at all or that I found myself staring at the blank page. Oh no. I was writing, alright--a whole lot of first paragraphs. There've been days too when I sat down for an hour or more and came up with three measly lines.

How did I break the curse of the writer's block.

It happened over the weekend, while I stared at a few of those blasted first paragraphs. It hit me. I mixed and matched, nipped and tucked and came up with a paragraph that didn't feel like I'd dug myself into a hole. Ok, so it might have had something to do with Kimberly Raye's Once Upon a Bite (what's not to love about a sexy were/vamp hybrid falling for a human?). Whatever the case, chapter 6 is finally complete. Woohoo! Four - maybe five - more to go  (groans).

What are your writer's block/victory stories and how have you overcome them. If you're still in your writers' block, get yourself a racy book and let your imagination run.


Friday, 9 September 2011

Frisky Friday: A Pizza Head

(Here's a piece of flash fiction I developed for a contest. The rule was to write a scene in which the protagonist wakes up in a chair, hands and feet bound.)

I rang the bell on 21 Mango Close. It was my last delivery for the night: a spicy four-ways pizza, fully loaded—thick crust and extra topping. Though the short dirt road branching off a bigger but quiet street was unlit, light glowed from every window in the house I could make out.

A woman opened the door. She was tall and willowy, wearing a short skirt and a sexy tank top. Silhouetted against the light inside, I couldn’t see her face. She looked marginally familiar, but didn’t all sexy women look alike? Or maybe it was the Lara Croft getup.

Taking the pizza from me, she dipped two fingers between her breasts and pulled out some bills. She counted it. Not enough.

“Why don’t you come in, sugar?” She had a sexy voice to go with the body.

Stepping into the light, her face finally became visible. She had to be the most beautiful woman I’d laid eyes on. As a part-time pizza delivery guy, I came into contact with a good variety of characters, but never had my work brought me in close confines with a woman who was sexiness personified.

Standing near the door, waiting for my money, I noticed a painting hanging on the wall and leaned closer to study it. Hearing footsteps, I turned around just in time to notice Lara Croft swinging a blunt weapon at me. Everything went black.
***
I was suddenly awake—blindfolded, but awake. Why was I sitting? I couldn’t move. My hands and feet were tied—I jerked my arms—very firmly. The last thing I remembered was … the painting and a thud. I felt a dull pain on the side of my head where the weapon must have hit, as if the memory had brought it on.

Footsteps.

The sound created an image in my mind of stilettos, cat-walking toward me.

“Ms. Ville,” I pleaded. It was the name she’d given with her order. “What are you planning to do with me?”

“You’ve been a very bad boy,” came the sultry voice of Ms. Ville, “and you need to be punished.”

I gulped. They always said beautiful women were bad girls, but since a woman worth anything was way out of my league, I had to take their word for it. After all, I was just a nobody, too far removed from her kind and not smart enough to join the population of brainiacs who were changing the world one invention after another. I was average to the letter, right down to working part-time at Pizza Inn. Could I hope ‘bad’ meant ‘good’?

“Ms. Ville—”

She was now close enough that I could breathe in her stimulating floral smell.

“Call me Amanda,” she whispered in my ear.

My imagination went wild. Was she wielding a knife? Did she plan on relieving me of my equipment? Something supple pressed against my collarbone. My throat dried up. Was she naked?

I jerked in surprise when she started rubbing me through my jeans. Holy—I was rigid within seconds. I had no experience in holding back.

“Aman—”
“Shh.” She brushed her lips against mine.

Leaving me panting from anticipating a kiss that never came, she unzipped me and released my member. She made a sound of approval, perhaps at the size of the equipment—not that it mattered, since I never got to use it as often as I’d have liked—or my state of arousal.

“That’s a good boy.”

As she rubbed me, I couldn’t help but release a moan of pleasure. If she was planning on killing me after this, I’d be dying happy. Intense pleasure shot through me when her mouth surrounded my throbbing manhood. Her tongue circled the tip, sending me knocking on the gates of paradise.

I wanted to touch her, feel her. Yanking at the ropes securing my hands and legs, I swore in frustration. My actions only seemed to egg her on. She sucked me like I was candy and it was Christmas. Mercy!

Her name erupted from my mouth in waves of pleasure as my body shuddered in rapture.

I sat in silence, wondering ‘what now?’ The only audible sound came from me as I struggled to control my breath. Her footsteps retreated, returning after a couple of minutes. I wanted to ask what the hell had happened here, but my words wouldn’t come out.

She chuckled. She still sounded sexy. I began to psych myself for the worst. Dying at the hands of a beautiful woman was probably the best thing that could happen to me.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “you’ll have your turn.”

The blindfold came off. She held up a slice of four-ways. “Pizza?