Author Friends: Jeanne St. James

Are you a panster or a plotter?

Pantser. I want my characters to surprise me.

Do you believe in Writer’s Block? If so, how do you kick its arse?

Yes. I rarely have it. But reading a book is the best way to get my creative juices flowing.

What book is your comfort read on a bad day? The one you go back to reread over and over. 

 I don’t have any that I reread. I have too many good books on my TBR list to go back and reread any.

Describe your perfect writing space: 

 On a balcony overlooking the Caribbean Sea in a comfortable chair.

 Do you write your title first or story first?

It just depends on the story. I’ve done it both ways.

Tempting Him (An Obsessed Novella)

 

Buy Link: https://books2read.com/TemptingHim

Blurb: 

It’s not just a love story, it’s an obsession…

Skylar:            

Every time my neighbor jogs past my house, I do my best to tempt him. Washing my car, watering my lawn, doing yoga in the grass with all my assets in the air. I’m not sure if he notices me, but I sure can’t miss him.

Then one day he falls… into my arms and into my bed. Surprisingly, we’re better matched than I would’ve expected. But when he reveals who he is, my world comes crashing down around me because if he finds out my secret we’re finished before we’ve even begun.

Cade:

Three days a week, I put myself through hell by jogging through my neighborhood. I suffer through it simply to catch a glimpse of a woman I don’t know. Every time I pass her house she’s outside tempting me. Until one day I fall… over my feet, over my heart, over this woman and into her arms.

I know nothing about her, but I want to discover everything. Even her deepest, darkest secrets. However, little does she know, I have one, too. One that may sever the tie that binds us.

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Skylar:

 

I watch as sweat drips one bead at a time onto my over-priced yoga mat. The sun is so freaking hot and here I am, like an idiot out in my yard, bent over in the downward facing dog pose for the past million years. Okay, not years… maybe more like a million seconds. But my body has decided it hates me (nothing new) and is cramping while my head spins. Even better, my over-priced yoga pants have clawed their way up my crack (as well as one other place). And still…

No neighbor.

What the hell?

Despite my eyeballs’ attempt at bulging out of their sockets, I peek at my sports watch. He should’ve been by here two-point-five minutes ago.

Shit.

The man is usually like clockwork, jogging by my house on Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons every week. For the most part, anyway. Though, thunderstorms seem to discourage him from his cardio. (Not sure why.)

On those days, I would be willing to recommend another type of cardio to get his heart pumping. And maybe get his hips pumping, too.

Anyway… look at me! Doing yoga on my front lawn, on the uneven grass, waiting like a desperate woman. (I’m not, really, I promise! It just looks that way.)

But, damn, the man is fine and when he jogs past shirtless, he’s shiny with sweat, which makes me want to drag him inside and give him a sponge bath with my tongue.

My thighs start shaking as I peek between my spread legs, because, of course, my ass has to be facing the street. I want him to get a good look at what I’m offering.

I may even wiggle it a little when he jogs by.

That is if I don’t pass out into a heap first.

I sigh.

Then sigh again a little louder just for good measure.

Maybe it would be easier if I just took up jogging. Wear one of those sexy sports bras, put my hair up in a cute little pony tail, plaster a smile on my face and follow him around the block at a perky pace.

I’ll die first.

****

Cade:

Why I ever started this shit, I’ll never know. No, I lie. I know. I thought, “Cade, dude, wouldn’t it be great to up your cardio game and start running?”

I answered myself with, “Yeah, man, that would be great and fun, too!” And then maybe I won’t get so winded when I play basketball with the guys. I’ll have more endurance, I’ll look and feel younger, and…

Fuck that.

Running sucks. And I don’t even think what I do can be considered as running. No, it’s more of a jog. Or a lope. Or trotting like a donkey with a lame hoof.

Inhell. Exhell.

My chest burns, my leg muscles spasm, my balls feel like they’re floating in a puddle of sweat, and the crack of my ass…

I’m not even going there. (Trust me, you don’t want to, either.)

So, why don’t I just stop the torture? (Good question!)

I’ve asked myself that for the past month.

And the answer has always been…

Her.

I sacrifice three days a week just to see a woman I don’t know.

Not sure why, but she always seems to be outside at the same time of the day. For that reason, I make sure that’s when I go running (jogging, trotting, limping) by.

Am I crazy to torture myself because I find someone attractive and I’d like to get her attention?

Eh. Maybe.

Why don’t I just knock on her door and ask her out? (Another good question.)

Maybe I want to impress her with my physique and athletic prowess.

But honestly, something has to give and it has to be soon. Because this running shit sucks balls and I’d rather stick razor blades under my fingernails.

At least my slow trot is the right speed to observe her without being creepy. Walking would be too slow and obvious. Driving too quick and useless, not to mention dangerous when she’s clearly a distraction.

And, of course, my pace always allows me enough time to enjoy the show she gives me.

On Wednesday, she was out washing her car, her top soaked, her nipples pushing through the thin fabric of her shirt, and when she bent over to scrub the hood of said car, my boner just about popped out of my shorts. You know, those little nylon running shorts. The ones with the mesh liner, clearly not made for sexual arousal.

But I digress.

The week before, she was out watering her lawn. And, once again, her top was wetter than her grass.

Here’s the thing, the entire neighborhood has built-in sprinklers.

Maybe hers are broken.

It’s possible.

I grunt as I turn the corner and try to push myself a little faster since I’m off my game today. I’m later than normal, and I want my running to look as effortless as possible. It needs to look as though I’ve got my shit together and I’m not secretly suffering.

My eyes swing to the left as I jog. She’s the fourth house up. The brick ranch home with the two-car garage.

Two houses to go yet.

One house.

My eyes widen as I see her ass in tight black yoga pants in the air. My step stutters but I can’t stop my momentum.

My mouth becomes an O, partly because I’m falling over my own two feet, the other because she’s dropped to her knees and is now arching backwards grabbing onto her heels, her generous tits straining against her top.

Last thing I see is her blinking upside down at me as her head hangs down her back.

Suddenly, I’m staring at nothing but pavement (and my loss of manhood). The little bit of oxygen I had sucked into my lungs is now gone.

Then, what seems like seconds later, bare, cute, red painted toes come into view.

I want to just die.

About the Author:

JEANNE ST. JAMES is a USA Today bestselling erotic romance author who loves an alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing. Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here: BookHip.com/MTQQKK

To keep up with her busy release schedule check her website at www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for her newsletter: http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup

Author Links:

Website: http://www.jeannestjames.com

Blog: http://jeannestjames.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JeanneStJamesAuthor/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jeannestjames/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JeanneStJames

Amazon Author Page: http://tinyurl.com/JeanneStJames

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/JeanneStJames

Newsletter: http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup

Review & Book Crew: https://www.facebook.com/groups/JeannesReviewCrew/

Author Friends: Sheri Velarde

Blurb:

A handsome deputy who’s not looking to settle down.
A mysterious woman who’s on the run.

When Deputy Henri Gunther realizes there’s so much more to waitress Jenna Trippleton, his simple small-town life explodes right open. With her safety and freedom at stake, Jenna must decide whether she can put her trust in the one man who’s promised to protect her.

Links:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2DK8nbo
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2zZFDsB
Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/2CB93k2
Amazon AU: http://amzn.to/2lzlhSG

Meet the Character: Jenna Trippleton from A Whole New Life by Sheri Velarde

Hi, my name is Jenna Trippleton. Well, that’s not real name but that’s all that you are going to get out of me. When I left my old life behind, men and love were the last thing on my mind. I wanted a small town life, no excitement, no commitment, no one getting too close to me. Of course I had no idea about the town hunk of Pella back then, the one and only Deputy Henri Gunther. Sure I knew he was hot the first time that I laid eyes on him. Everyone can see that. I tried my hardest to resist his charm, but damn that man can be persistent. Soon I saw past those blue eyes and dimples, soon I saw the perfectly imperfect man behind the façade that he showed the world. What’s worse is he broke down my own walls and defenses, leaving me vulnerable. I should have ran right then and there, but can you really run for love if it comes knocking?

I guess that you can say the story of how Henri and I fell in love is quite thrilling, full of ups and downs and probably a bit more intrigue than the usual romance. Want to read more about it? It was chronicled in A Whole New Life by Sheri Velarde.

 

Author Links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSheriVelarde

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Sher_V

Website/blog: https://authorsherivelarde.weebly.com/

Nice Arse (A Sin Bin Flash Fiction)

In celebration of my upcoming Sin Bin release, Haka Ever After. I decided to do a small flash fiction event. Today’s the first one, titled Nice Arse. It features two characters I get asked about a lot — Remi Chardin and his lovely wife, Sarah Chardin.


“Who’s he, then?” Sarah leaned forward in her seat to see over the rows of rugby fans in front of her. “He’s a hairy beast. Nice arse on him.”

“Remi Chardin. Captain of the French team.” Ivan reached a hand out to drag her back into her seat when she stood up. “Heard he’s taking up a coaching position in the next year or so in England. Supposedly he’s friends with some of the British team. He’s a brilliant player.”

“I thought you hated the French team.” Sarah had been shocked when Ivan actually accepted her invitation to the Italy vs. France game in Paris. She hadn’t been surprised when he spent the entire time complaining. “If you’re going to grumble at me under your breath again, why’d you bother coming with me at all?”

No answer.

Each year, she’d watched her brother turn more and more into an angry recluse who closely resembled their father. The trip had been her idea to goad him into a better mood. It hadn’t worked.

Ivan was as unreachable in Paris as at home. Her gaze returned to the bearded Frenchman with a sigh. Well, at least I have someone to ogle with Mr Rain Cloud sitting beside me.

By the time the game ended, Sarah had realised she’d spent the entire time watching Remi Chardin. He stood taller and broader than most of the men on the filed with long, wild dark brown hair that bled into his beard. The French Captain seemed more ancient warrior than rugby player.

“Want to go—”

“No.” Ivan cut her off instantly. “We’re going to the hotel.”

“Already?” She’d assumed they’d see the city a little. “It’s barely four in the afternoon. It’s Paris. I mean, Paris. We can’t spend the entire day in the hotel.”

“And?” Ivan shouldered his way through the throngs of fans trying to exit, leaving an easy path for his sister in his wake. “What’s to see?”

“The Eiffel Tower? Museums? Shops? Actual French macarons and patisserie.” Sarah planned to eat her weight before returning home. “Don’t you want to explore with me?”

Once they made it safely out of the stadium, Ivan stormed off toward the hotel to brood. Moody twit. Sarah had no intentions of wasting the day inside. In the end, she thought it a blessing in disguise since her brother would’ve ruined her fun.

Not wanting to get lost in a crush of other tourists, Sarah wandered the streets around their hotel after seeing the Eiffel Tower. She indulged in an embarrassingly large number of pastries and more coffee than was probably good for her. It had been a dream in her teens to spend weeks in Paris, but she thought she had a better appreciation for the city now in her twenties.

As the sun started to set on the city of lights, Sarah wanted a warm meal before dealing with her brother. Ivan tended to play the protective older brother almost as badly as their eldest brother, George, did. She needed more than coffee and sweets to put him in his place.

She found, of all things, a cosy Irish pub. Midway through her half glass of wine and salmon, a crowd of boisterous men came stumbling inside. Their accents made her think they’d come from London, and she groaned internally when several of them spotted her sitting alone.

Not now, please don’t ruin my beautiful day with your nonsense.

“Buy you a drink, love?”

Sarah lifted her glass. “I’ve got one. Thanks.”

“Buy you another one?”

“No.”

“Stuck up twat.”

Sarah got to her feet, appetite gone. She started toward the door only to find her path block. “Could you move?”

“I just want to buy you a drink.” He had definitely had more than enough liquid courage. “What’s the harm?”

“I don’t want any trouble.” Sarah tried to back away from the drunks only to find herself in a far corner of the pub out of the view of the staff. She cursed her decision to visit a pub and not stick with a fancy restaurant. “Let go of my arm.”

The aggressive drunk leered toward her only to be yanked away from her a second later. He was sent careening into his friends. They stumbled into a wall of sober, muscled men who seemed familiar to her.

With a lot of shouting in French and English, the drunks cleared out fairly quickly. Sarah gripped the table to her left with her hands shaking. She breathed through her need to vomit up her dinner.

Tout va bien?”

Sarah found herself face to chest with Remi Chardin and her half a glass of wine gave her the idiotic courage to blurt out her first thought. “You’ve a really nice arse.”

His dark brown eyes stared intensely at her. “Merci.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” She hoped the dark lighting in the pub hid the faint tinge of pink on her cheeks and the slight trembling of her fingers. “As a way of saying thanks for being my hero.”

“Are you in Paris for long?”

“No.” Sarah found herself being led across the pub to a different secluded corner that had couches. She waved at what appeared to be most of the French rugby team. “Just another day.”

“Pity.” Remi ordered a fresh glass of wine for her and a beer for himself before guiding her to sit with him on one of the leather sofas. “Can I change your mind? I haven’t had enough time to tell if you’re as vibrant as your hair.”

“Ginger’s vibrant?”

“Red. Not ginger.” Remi made the word red sound sexual in a way that had Sarah chugging down her wine. “Surely another day won’t matter?”

And he said day as though he meant week.

Sarah bent forward, with the impulsive courage that had run in her family for years, and brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth. “Want to show me Paris?”

Nice Arse © 2018 by Dahlia Donovan


Nice Arse by Dahlia Donovan (PDF)

 

Author Friends: Ella Williams

Are you a panster or a plotter?

I do a basic plot outline. But I write where my heart feels, so if I feel like writing the last chapter when I am only five chapters into my book, I will do that.

Do you believe in Writer’s Block? If so, how do you kick its arse?

Writers block is just another form of stunted motivation. As a creative, it is easy to get sidetracked and let self-doubt get the better of you. I don’t stress when I am not motivated, I just jot down any ideas I do have and work on marketing or self promotion. There’s always something to do!
But if I take to long to get back to the keyboard, I try to remember how much I actually love writing.

What book is your comfort read on a bad day? The one you go back to reread over and over.

I stopped re-reading books when the Indie book community became so huge. I was too busy gobbling up all the new reads! So it’s not a book I will go to on a bad day, its a particular Author. And there are many that I favor, it’s dependent on what type of read I want; paranormal, contemporary, young adult, new adult, hot alpha… oh the list goes on. And of course I do have a long TBR.

Describe your perfect writing space:

Quiet early mornings at my dining room table when the juices are freshly flowing or One AM’s in bed when I get my second wind. But I also enjoy a picnic blanket in the park, some snacks and a handy laptop.

Do you write your title first or story first?

I’m either or. I could hear a word, think it would make a great title and then build a story around it. Or I could develop a story then chop and change till the right title comes to mind.

And lastly, write a one or two paragraph flash fiction inspired by the last photo or text you got on your phone

The cat sat in his bowl, patiently waiting for his human to pay him some attention. He licked his paw in anticipation of the meal ahead. The wait seemed endless in the chilly winter air. He let off a loud “Meow,” in pleading for his much-anticipated tuna.

After what seemed like five cat years his Human left her seat and joined Kitty in the kitchen. Human offered sweet-sounding platitudes that Kitty was sure was meant to soothe him after his lengthy wait for his meal. He hissed in response, angry at being ignored for so long. He stubbornly remained in the food bowl while Human attempted to lift him out. After allowing Human to hum compliments, of “How pretty you are Kitty,” followed by the human begging of kitty-strokes and chin tickles, Kitty decided a sufficient period of time had lapsed. Kitty finally relented and slowly and languorously stepped out of the bowl.

Kitty watched with a satisfied smirk as Human had to clean out the food bowl that was now filled with Kitty’s long black fur. Then came out the can of tuna. Kitty couldn’t help but purr at the smell invading his receptive nostrils, causing the most pleasurable anticipation. Now, this? This was the reason why Kitty tolerated Human. Every King needed his serf!

About the Author:

Ella Williams is a self published author of raw, sassy and slightly savage romance. Ella has years of experience slogging away in various education fields, but her ever thriving passion for reading led Ella on the path to becoming a writer.

Better late than never, Ella mostly known as E, Weezy or Mo-m, has a love of art and colour and anything idiosyncratic.

Ella lives in Cape Town South Africa with her high school sweetheart and husband , three of their five children, their googly-eyed puppy, two grumpy cats and of course their pet killer lobster. Their full house is never lacking in quirky inspirations and even weirder friendships. A mother and small business owner by day Ella cannot resist the call of the written word and is either reading or weaving a story by night.

She is always and forever a doodler, a dreamer and now a writer.

Nothing is more annoying than a hot guy who knows it.
He was off limits. Forbidden. My life was too afflicted. His life was too tied up in complications.
But then my world fell apart. Alone and adrift, I never guessed that one of my misadventures would turn into a night of discovery.
The instant pull left us breathless.
I wasn’t sure that I could handle the scrutiny, or the judgement in his eyes, if he knew how messed up my life was. Or whether, he could unravel his own messes.
Except, I was hooked on the promise of forever.

 


LINKS:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2HLyXXg

Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2pxFj1m

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/author_ella_williams/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorellawilliams/

Ella’s Sassy Savages:https://bit.ly/2I1tTLO

 

 

Cheap, Cheap. Get the Lion Tamer for Cheap.

The Lion Tamer is 99c for the next few days until June 2nd. So grab it while the sale lasts.

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2CXYESA

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2DaBghz

Amazon AU: http://amzn.to/2CVcw03

Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/2DbZQ1F

Kobo: http://bit.ly/LionTamer_Kobo

iTunes: https://apple.co/2m8y7Hh

Nook: http://bit.ly/LionTamerBN

 

And while I’m at it, The Unexpected is free this week!

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2xOjYEz

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2fMnRW2

Amazon AU: http://amzn.to/2xWTqTN

Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/2ySnHkp

Let Them Eat Cake.

Food.

Glorious food.

My stories always seem to feature a lot of tasty treats.

(Or, in the case of The Caretaker and the upcoming Haka Ever After, ALL THE CHEESE.)

I’ll be perfectly honest, half the time, I wind up making myself hungry and get annoyed because I don’t always have access to some of the foods my characters enjoy. One Last Heist was a prime example. Toshiro and Mack indulge quite a bit in the story. I have to live vicariously through them.

Tragic.

Food adds a layer to stories. And I’ve discovered one person’s weird is another’s delicacy.

As an autistic, the smell, texture, spice levels, and even colour of food can affect whether I’ll be able to eat it. I also tend to have weeks and even months where I’ll eat the same meal over and over and over again, much to my hubby’s dismay. =) It’s something I try to stay cognizant of with my autistic characters.

Toshiro’s sister Charlie enjoys having her eggs in a particular way, especially when made by her brother.

The other side of the food coin is weird–odd–gross foods. And I’ll admit that one person’s weird is another’s delicacy.

Here are some of the foods (I find weird) that I’ve tried over the years:

– Blood Sausage.

Ew. Gross. Don’t.

– Jackfruit

Weird texture. Weird on the outside. Tastes amazing.

– BBQ Stingray

Tried this in Singapore. So good. Silky texture and no odd fishy aftertaste.

– Turtle Soup

This one traumatised me for years. My dad made me try his soup. I was horrified. Also, it was rubbery. But, I had pet turtles, and I had nightmares about eating them. lol

What are the weirdest or most unusual foods/dishes you’ve ever tried?

Do you enjoy learning about foods/dishes in the novels you read?

It’s Alive! One Last Heist.

Join Mack and Toshiro as they attempt to pull off one more heist before their lives are forever changed.

Amazon US: amzn.to/2IwvZHc
Amazon UK: amzn.to/2IzVYxy
Amazon CA: amzn.to/2ka8sxa
Amazon AU: amzn.to/2wX4mlh
iTunes: apple.co/2paNGjg
Nook: bit.ly/LastHeist-Nook
Kobo: bit.ly/LastHeist-kobo