Showing posts with label romance writer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label romance writer. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Meet Author Ash Penn

Today I am excited to be interviewing English author, Ash Penn.

*Lillian flops into a deck chair and waves a hand at Ash.*

Sit, sit.  Here have a blanket. I turned the temperature down so you would feel at home. Now we can imagine we’re on a British beach in the middle of summer.

I did want to use Cornelle Keeven’s set but he got a bug up his butt. You make one small mistake and he bears a grudge for months. Hell, I even told him Debbie wasn’t coming and I’d frisk people to make sure they weren’t carrying explosives. He got real freaked out when I offered to show him my frisking technique.  Anyway, this is cosy isn’t it?

Q. So, Ash, this book Passing Time is your second release with Loose Id.  Tell us a bit about the characters and the plot. I understand it’s a bit spooky. Woooohoooo.

A. There are spooky elements but it’s not really a ghost story. Louis Duncan is a rather grouchy guy, fast approaching middle age and wallowing in his own sense of hopelessness. Jake is younger and embraces life. Their differences make them perfect for one another. Even Louis’s boyfriend, Carter thinks so. And he’s dead.

Q. As you know, I only write Male/Female romance, soooo I have always wanted to ask how do you write Male/ Male?  Being as you’re a girl I can’t work out how you know what goes where and who does what to whom?  I am only dealing with plugs and sockets but you have a plug overload and some interesting sockets to use!

A. Imagination plays a big part. Plenty of research via m/m novels. I have been known to lurk on certain forums where people discuss the intimacies of their sex lives. Another great resource is the m/m group on Goodreads.

Q. Have you always written Male/Male romance?  What made you chose that genre?

A. Yes, I’ve always written m/m in one form or another, long before it was even a genre. I used to sit at home penning my stories thinking I was the only girl ever who thought the idea of two men together was hot.  This was long before the internet taught me otherwise. I do have a strong masculine side to my nature which doesn’t tend to emerge in real life but in my writing I can explore those facets of my personality which is why m/m romance is my perfect genre.

Q. I did have the joy of reading this book before publication and I love the characters. So, where did this story begin, with the characters or the plot?

A. Characters definitely. Without the characters there is no plot. In complete contrast to my first book, I wanted to try my hand at writing a much gentler, sweeter kind of romance. There’s plenty of sex, but unlike my first book, Stray, these characters are actually likeable. I hope.

Q. What things in life inspire you to write?

A. Good books, mostly. And places. I could certainly find inspiration on a Greek beach, or wandering the backstreet of Venice which I don’t do nearly often enough.

Q. Whilst you have only been published recently, I wonder, when did you first get an inkling that you could write and when did you first act on it?

A. I’ve always written. In school, English was my favourite subject. Although I’ve taken long breaks where I didn’t write anything at all, I always come back to it. I take my writing so much more seriously now and try to fit in around four hours a day. I say try because I rarely manage to make four hours. I waste far too much time on the internet for one thing and I can’t always pass that time off as research.

Q. What is a typical day for Ash Penn?  Do you have set hours when you write or do you only get to hide under the stairs when life allows?

A. I tend to write mostly in the morning. I’m fortunate in that right now I can stay at home and write full time. This isn’t going to be a permanent thing so I’m making the most of it while I can. I’m also most of the way through an English degree. One more year to go.

Q. Tell me about your muse and are they in charge or do you manage to rein them in?

A. My muse and I don’t communicate well, which is why I take so long to write a story. I don’t tend to outline so I’m often taking wrong turns and writing myself into a corner. Sometimes my muse will throw me a map, more often than it’ll stand there laughing at me while I try to figure my own way out.

Q. When do you usually get plot motivation?  How do you keep hold of those ideas before they disappear into thin air?

A. My characters dictate the plot and the ideas come along as I write.  I’ll often make notes as ideas come to me. I keep a notebook by my bedside table for when the muse strikes in the middle of the night. If I don’t, the brilliant plot idea I had at 2AM evaporates by the following morning. To be fair though,  in the harsh light of day I tend to find it wasn’t such a great plot point after all.

Q. What has been the most exhilarating moment to date in your writing career?

A. My first publication, closely followed by my second publication. Also, finishing my first book and sending it out into the world

Q. So, what’s next for Ash Penn? Any new stories in the pipeline you can share with us?

A. I’m working on a novel at the moment. I’ve been working on it for the past nine months. I keep saying it’s almost done, and this time I actually mean it. I don’t like to give out too many details but it’s a romance that takes place over the course of about ten hours. It’s actually quite difficult for two people to fall in love in such a short space of time, but I think my guys might just end the story with the start of something special between them.

Now some questions just for fun

Q. Looking back over your life what was your favorite year and why?

A. Writing related? 1999. The year of my first proper computer.

Q. Favorite movie and favorite movie quote?

A. I don’t really watch movies but I’ve always enjoyed the original Star Wars trilogy. The newer films I don’t like so much, actually not at all. ‘May the force be with you’ is not my favourite quote, by the way.

Q. If you were stranded on a desert island what book would you take to read and why?

A. The Complete Works of Jane Austen.  I love her characterisation and witty observations.

Q. What is the stupidest thing you ever did?

A. Not working hard enough to get myself published years ago.

Thank you for coming Ash. Gees I think I’m going to have to turn the thermostat up. You poms sure do live in the cold.

Be sure to check out Ash’s new book at Loose Id and if you haven't read her first one you are really missing out on something special.

You can get your copy at Loose Id
 

 

Blurb
When world-weary Louis Duncan returns to the English town where he grew up, the last thing on his mind is finding love. He's come home to be at his estranged mother's side as she lies comatose in a hospital bed.

The always-sunny barman Jake Harvey yearns to offer Louis much more than a willing ear. After an evening of too much wine, too much Indian take-out, and too much of Jake's soft lips, Louis succumbs to the young man's charms. Jake proves to be a passionate lover as well as a loyal friend.

When his mother’s condition deteriorates, Louis leans on Jake to help him through the difficulty of another loss. The love of his life died two years before, but to Louis he remains every bit alive as Jake. He and Carter continue to chat, smoke together, even argue over whether Louis is living or merely existing. They do everything as they always did, except have sex. Now, despite Carter urging him to take the risk, can Louis give up his first real love and take his chances with the living?

Excerpt
Toward the end of yet another tedious day, Louis Duncan found himself wandering streets he’d not trekked in twenty years. Since his unexpected return to his hometown, he’d tried a variety of the pubs and bars that had sprung up along the High Street in his absence, but only one managed to draw his attention night after night.

The Prince of Wales public house had undergone a total transformation since the dark and dingy days of his youth. It was now a classy-looking modern bar called Harvey’s. Wood paneling and floor-to-ceiling windows had taken the place of the traditional beer-and-nicotine-stained walls Louis recalled as being off-limits to a teenager looking younger than his years.

The usual hum of voices permeated the low-level music as he entered the bar and approached the array of bottles. He took a moment to scan the various spirits, although he never ordered anything other than a large bourbon.

“Hey, Lou.” The barman, Jake, greeted him as though Louis had been a regular for years. “How’s your mum?”

Louis had spent most of the day at her side, the rhythmic chug and beep of the complicated machinery keeping him company. Occasionally a nurse would rustle up a coffee, and a doctor might pop in to update him on her progress, but apart from that the only conversation he’d shared these past couple of weeks was with a fresh-faced, eternally cheerful barman.

“No change,” he said, catching the faint nasal vowels of his own adopted New York accent.

Already the longed-for bourbon, a drink he had yet to order, sat before him. For all his youth, this guy knew how to keep his customers happy. Louis lifted the glass and swallowed the contents, savoring the thin heat flaming down into his belly.

“Another?” Jake asked, already reaching for the drained glass.

Louis smiled. For reasons unknown to himself, he always tried to arrange his features into an expression that might pass for pleasant with this particular guy. “Thanks, Jake.”

Jake returned the smile and then turned away to fetch the bourbon, affording Louis a prime view of plump ass. He wasn’t totally desensitized to the allure of a well-presented body.

“Cute,” Carter said softly, taking a perch on the stool next to Louis’s.

“I’m a little long in the tooth for cute.” Louis glanced at his lover, a handsome, smartly dressed man with a shock of sandy hair. Carter grinned, his gray eyes bright and mischievous, exactly like the man he was before the illness had yellowed his skin and ravaged his body to a wispy husk.

“You’re a little long in the tooth for spending yet another evening alone in a bar, but that doesn’t seem to bother you so much.”

Louis hunched forward on his stool. “Every day I get to sit by and watch the mother I haven’t spoken to in twenty years slip closer to death. I think I’ve earned myself a few lousy drinks, don’t you?”

“You don’t think you might have earned yourself more? A shot of that, perhaps?” Carter gestured to the barman on his return.

“Only you, my love,” Louis muttered as Jake set a fresh bourbon in front of him.

“Sorry?”

Louis glanced up to meet Jake’s curious gaze. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

“Is that something you do a lot?”

“More than I should.” Louis was long past caring whether he looked like a fool or a loon.

“Do you answer yourself too?”

Louis shook his head. “Now that would make me insane.” He tried another of his smiles, but his lips refused to tilt.

“Well, I’m here,” Jake leaned his arms on the bar, all traces of humor gone. “If you feel like talking to someone.”

Louis laughed. “Haven’t I bent your ear enough these past couple of weeks?”

“With that accent you can bend my ear any time you like.” Jake gazed at him, although to Louis it felt more like a stare. Did he expect an answer? A few more bourbons, and perhaps Louis might have one for him, but not tonight.

He downed his drink and reached for the wallet in his jacket pocket. “How much do I owe?” he asked in his best business voice.

Jake waved a hand. “On the house.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Louis took out a note anyway. “I wouldn’t want you getting yourself fired because of me.”

“That’s not likely to happen. I have a very understanding boss.”

Louis set the note on the bar. “No boss is that understanding.”

“Mine is.” Jake slid the note right back. “Did I never tell you my last name?” He grinned. “It’s Harvey. My dad owns the place.”

He’d not mentioned it, but then Louis had no cause to ask. “Still, I’d rather pay what I owe.”

“I’ve got a better idea.” Jake took the ten pounds, folded it neatly, and leaned over to slot it into Louis’s shirt pocket. “Why don’t you repay my hospitality by taking me out sometime?”

He stroked a thumb across Louis’s nipple through the cotton. Louis pulled back as a jolt of pleasure tingled down his body.

What was this? Flirting? No. No, it was part of the job to amuse the sad fucks who visited bars alone in order to drink themselves senseless before bedtime.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Ghost Hunter by Paige Tyler

Today I am happy to hand my blog over to the lovely Paige Tyler...take it away Paige. 
I'm so excited to announce I have a new book out with Ellora's Cave!  It's a paranormal romance called GHOST HUNTER, and it's got a hunky hero, a kick-ass heroine and a serial killing ghost that's scary as hell!  Not to mention a smokin' hot cover!
I love when I come up with an idea for a book out of the blue, which is what happened with GHOST HUNTER. When I heard my local RWA chapter set up a lecture with a team of paranormal investigators, it got me thinking right away about writing a book about a ghost hunter. Because the chapter is far from where we live, though, we didn't actually go to the lecture. I was a little bummed about that, especially since they were giving out EMF detectors. On second thought, maybe it was better we didn't go. Ghosts freak me out, so having something that can detect them probably wouldn't be a good idea.
Enough about me, back to the story behind the story. While I knew the hero was a ghost hunter named Trace, I wasn't quite sure how the heroine fit into the story, or even who she was. So, my hubby and I played around with a few ideas at our local PF Chang's (we come up with a lot of story ideas there!) We both decided that having the heroine Cassidy need the hero's help because her house was haunted or something like that didn't seem original enough, so we made her a budding romance writer who tags along with the hero and his team to do some research. Like any good story, though, it had to have some conflict, which is why Trace and Cassidy completely rub each other the wrong way right from the beginning. Actually, he thinks he's a jerk. But don't worry, Cassidy discovers underneath that rough ghost hunter exterior, Trace is just the man she's been looking for. It doesn't hurt that he's hot!
Okay, so we had our hero and heroine. Now we needed a bad guy. That's where the ghost comes in. He's not your standard, everyday ghost, though. He's a serial killer who attacked Cassidy that comes back from the grrave to continue his string of grisly murders, and she's at the top of his list. To make things even more interesting, not only can he do all the regualar ghostly stuff like walk through walls and materialize out of thin air, he can also take solid form. 
I'm not going to tell you any more than that, though. Don't want to give too much away, you know.  I will add that my editor at Ellora's Cave told me she got so caught up in the story, she completely forgot she was reading a submission!
Now that you know the story behind the story, I think I'll tease you with an excerpt.  Enjoy!
BLURB:
 
Almost getting murdered by a serial killer gives Cassidy Kincaide a new lease on life and convinces her to go ahead and tackle that ghost-hunter novel she's always wanted to write. So, she hooks up with a gorgeous paranormal investigator named Trace McCord to do some research.

Cassidy and Trace rub each other the wrong way right from the beginning, but they have to put aside their differences when the serial killer who attacked her comes back from the grave to continue his string of grisly murders, with her at the top of his list.
 
Trace has to keep Cassidy close to keep her safe, and as they try to stay one step ahead of the ghost while figuring out how to stop it, he and Cassidy end up in each other’s arms. While Trace has a whole list of reasons why he shouldn’t get involved with her, he finds himself falling in love with the beautiful blonde anyway. And even though Cassidy started out thinking he was a jerk, she learns that underneath the rough ghost hunter exterior, he’s just the man she’s always been looking for. Now, all they have to do, is live long enough to be together.
 
 
EXCERPT:
 
Trace was only a few miles from the address Robert had given him for Cassidy when his cell phone rang. At first he wasn’t going to answer it, but some sixth sense made him change his mind. Now he was glad he had.

He was about to disconnect the call when he heard a muffled scream on the other end of the line. It was quickly followed by a loud clatter, then nothing.

“Cassidy!”

No answer.

Trace felt his chest tighten. Swearing under his breath, he shoved his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans and floored the pedal on the Hummer, running a red light to get through the intersection. The other drivers honked their horns as they squealed to a stop, but he ignored them. There was no way he was going to let Cassidy die.
 
Five minutes later, he slid into the parking lot outside her apartment, running over an ornamental fence and a flower bed to come to a screeching halt a few feet from the front door. Jumping out of the Hummer, he ran around to the back and grabbed his duffel bag full of gear. Throwing it over his shoulder, he raced up the steps and charged through the door into the building, scaring the hell out of two women carrying laundry baskets.

“Where the hell are the stairs?” he demanded, not wanting to waste time with the elevator.

The women timidly pointed around the corner.

Trace didn’t thank them as he ran in that direction. He hit the steps hard, taking them hree at a time. Once on the fourth floor, he ran down the hall, checking the room numbers on he doors. When he came to the right one, he didn’t even bother to slow down. Instead, he icked the door in as hard as he could, reaching into his bag for his shotgun as the frame plintered and the door flew open.

He looked left and right as he entered the apartment, but there was no sign of Cassidy or el Vecchio. Trace’s blood ran cold at the scene that met his eyes. The living room looked s if a cyclone hit it. The couch and throw pillows were sliced to shreds, stuffing still floating hrough the air. The coffee table was lying on its side, as were the two end tables, and the amps that had been on them were smashed to pieces along with practically everything ele in the place. Even the walls had been slashed.
 
“Cassidy?” Trace called.

“In here.”      

Trace followed the sound of her voice until he came to the kitchen. Cassidy was standing in the center of the room inside a wobbly drawn circle of salt, ready to throw a handful of something in his face. She sagged with relief at the sight of him, letting the stuff in her hand trickle out onto the floor. That was when he realized she was holding a big container of oregano.

“Is he gone?” she whispered.
 
Trace nodded. “Yeah, he’s gone. But I’m getting you the hell out of here anyway.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, but simply slung the shotgun over his shoulder by the strap, then walked into the kitchen and swung Cassidy up in his arms.

She put one of her own around his neck. “Is it safe for me to leave the circle?”

“Yes. I’ll keep you safe. Trust me.”

Apparently she must have believed him because she didn’t resist. She cuddled the container of oregano close to her body and leaned against his chest.

He frowned.  “Cassidy, you did great with the salt circle. It saved your life without a doubt. But what are you doing with the oregano?”

She looked up at him with big, blue eyes. “Isn’t it what you used to get rid of ghosts?”
 
His mouth twitched. “That’s sage and garlic. You can ditch the spaghetti spice.”

“Oh,” was all she said. Resting her head on his shoulder, she let the container of oregano tumble to the floor, then put that arm around his neck, too.
 
Giving the place one more look to make sure Del Vecchio hadn’t come back, Trace carried her out of the apartment and right passed the alarmed neighbors who had come out into the hallway to see what the ruckus was all about. Trace imagined they got their money’s worth seeing a big guy with a shotgun and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder carrying a beautiful half-naked woman in his arms. He abruptly realized he probably should have taken a few minutes to let Cassidy grab some clothes. But then the lights in the hallway flickered and he decided he could get her clothes later. They were getting the hell out of there.
 
“Is she being kidnapped?” one elderly woman asked another in a low voice as he and Cassidy passed them.

“If she is,” said the other old woman, “then I want to want to be kidnapped next.”

Any other time, Trace would have laughed, but right now all he wanted to do was get Cassidy someplace safe. Fortunately, he knew exactly where to take her.
 
 
Watch the Trailer Here!
Get your copy of GHOST HUNTER at Ellora's Cave!
*hugs*
Paige