What made you decide to write My Immortal?
I wanted to write an action/adventure story. Storm Richardson started out as a plain, old private investigator, a la Sam Spade. Originally was based more on Bogey than the final version, but the farther I got into the story, the more it didn’t seem to flow. I had the story going, but it seemed to be missing something. But, being persistent, I kept at it. It wasn’t until about three quarters of the way through the story that Storm really got my attention. Don’t get me wrong, he peeked over my shoulder the whole time, but it was at this time that he really spoke up. He’d been telling me all along that he was smitten with Stevie—wanted to get to know her more on a physical level, but he hadn’t told me the one thing that would be the make-or-break.
What else are you working on?
I’m currently working with a very dear friend of mine on a ghost explorer story. My ideas tend to run away from me... I get so many and can’t keep them straight. But Megan told me she wanted to work with me on a ghost story. Problem? That’s all she said, “I want to work on a ghost story. Write it.” Good thing she’s a very dear person and loves erotica as much as I do.
I also have a story about a secondary character in My Immortal brewing. She wanted her own story and so...it’s in the works. I have the outline done and am slowing getting started on the story. I know this much, it’s going to be hot.
And since I just can’t sit still or work on one thing at a time, I also have another vampire story half done. He was nice enough to tell me early on he was a vampire and exactly who he wanted. No ifs, ands, or buts with Julian.
One of these days, I’d like to finish the follow-up to the contemporary mainstream romance Right Where I Need to Be. The story is written, but it needs edits and polishing before it can go to the editor.
What’s your dream story? The one that becomes a New York Times runaway bestseller, the one you hope to one day write?
Those who know me well know I love racing. If it takes place on dirt and has trucks involved, I’m sold. I was able to incorporate dirt racing into two of my books (Right Where I Need to Be and You’ll Think of Me). Although Storm isn’t much for racing, Stevie from My Immortal sure loved it, so the scene where they watch the race was a favorite for me. (You have to read it to find out why.)
But the book I’d love to write and make gadzillions of dollars or at least be the break through story would be one I already wrote, but haven’t done much with. It’s about a NASCAR driver and the woman who loves him. I know, I know, it’s been done. (There aren’t too many romance stories that haven’t been “done” in one version or another—that’s not my point.) My hero and heroine had a past and they really do like each other when she wanted to rip his ears off for being a man. But unlike many sport themed stories, my goal with mine was to make the sport part as authentic as possible. Lots of times the hero might be a sport legend or on the mend after an injury, but the actual sport part of the story is rather obscure. I don’t know a whole lot about football or baseball so it really doesn’t matter to me. Racing is another story. I understand it and can talk fluently when accidents occur. So when I read a book with race elements in it, it drives me crazy that the racing is glossed over or incorrect.
I probably had the wrong reason for writing the book—to get racing in romance right, but I let the characters dictate which direction the story went. One day I’ll re-edit and fiddle with it in order to make it editor ready. I won’t give up on the dream that the story is the one the world is waiting for, even if I totally miss the mark. That’s the nice thing about writing—what one loves is what another might find awful. So if it’s not the next big thing, it’s not. I’m good.
I think we’ve covered it all.
Blurb: What’s a girl to do when she finds out the man of her dreams is a 340 year old vampire?
Run like hell or offer her heart.
Being a vampire hasn’t been easy for Storm Richardson. He’s not programmed to kill or harm, unless he needs to feed. When he meets Stephanie “Stevie” Persing, he knows he’s found his mate. But if he crosses the line between work and play, he risks losing the only person who matters—her.
Stevie’s been in love with Storm since the moment she laid eyes on him. He’s brooding, intense, and her one weakness. But is her heart too steep a price to pay for his love, especially when she discovers his deepest secrets?
“What did he do to you?”
As she squared her shoulders, she took a deep breath. “He screwed Gypsy and then claimed he thought she was me. I don’t know how, since she’s five-nine and honey blonde. He said something about being shit faced and needing my comforts. I didn’t buy it then and still don’t even if it was pitch black when I caught them in my bed.”
Storm fought the twin waves of relief and anger. He didn’t like Ace from the beginning and the fact that the jerk screwed her good-for-nothing sister only confirmed his feelings. His heart still ached for Stevie even if she was better off. Life tended to dump on her in garbage truck proportions.
“Why did you think scum like that would make you happy? His name is Ace, for God’s sake.”
A lock of glossy, dark hair swept across her forehead when she looked away. “Actually his name is Herbert Axel Blake.”
He tried to contain it, but the laughter bubbled up on its own accord. She eyed him curiously than burst into giggles, too.
“Yeah, that’s his real name, Storm. I guess he thought Ace sounded cooler.”
Lust surged in his veins. He brushed her tresses from her eyes and trailed his fingers down her cheek. “It doesn’t sound cool at all.”
Her lips parted with a gasp. “I doubt I could’ve married a Herbert. It sounds too old-fashioned.” There was a definite catch in her voice.
He choked on his good humour. Too old school? What would she say when she found out he was 340 years old and grew up in Colonial Massachusetts? That was ancient history, even by his terms.
Deciding to try his luck, he pressed a question. “How about a Jacob?”
She crinkled her slightly upturned nose. “Who is Jacob?”
Flashing his best smile, he caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Me.”