#Interview with @JessePearle for Second Skin

Jesse Pearle grew up in the mountains of Western North Carolina in a place where there was no danger in dancing naked in the moonlight at the top of a mountain. Always possessed of a creative mind, but never quite the right amount of focus, she wandered for decades. She received a degree in fine art which she put to poor use working an uneventful desk job for an engineering company when she started writing her first really ambitious piece of fiction. She lives in sunny Southern California with her ever supportive husband and four attention-whoring cats.

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1. At any given time do you work on only one story at a time and maybe plot out the next one or are there many ideas racing around your head?

At any given time I’m an ADD mess, and it isn’t just the bajillion stories running through my head, either. Among all the varying story ideas, character ideas, scene ideas that are bumping around my brain like a wild carnival ride, I also have marketing strategies, sales data, blog ideas, website plans, and cats.

2. Is there a genre you haven't written in but would like to? Or wish you could write in?

I feel like my writing stretches the boundaries of romance a bit much. If anything, I’d like to rein it in so I could write a true traditional romance, just once. I also wish I was better at writing intrigue. I’m not very good at it, but I keep trying anyway—there’s a bit of an intrigue subplot in Second Skin, but it’s pretty light. It gets more complex through the next three books in the series, though.

3. Do you add an element of romantic suspense in your stories?

It’s a romantic suspense novel, so yeah, but I didn’t write it that way on purpose. I just tend to enjoy a bit of suspense in most of what I write. If I’m not writing sex scenes on every page, I need something more engaging to keep me interested in what I’m writing. The threat of death works just as well, I think.

4. Say you have unlimited funds: What kind of writing office/cottage would you create for yourself?

It would be an airy cabin in the mountains, with lots of high windows, and would absolutely have to have a view of the Blue Ridge Mountain range, or some similar mountain range, like this one: http://i.imgur.com/aldusDc.jpg

5. If you could turn your novel into a TV show, which novel or series would you do? Where would it be set? Network TV (ABC, NBC, CBS), Cable (AMC, BBC, Lifetime) or Premium Cable (HBO, Showtime, Starz)?

Second Skin is pretty racey in content, it features gang violence and steamy sex with light BDSM elements, so it’d likely have to be on cable TV. The setting is Los Angeles. I have a Pinterest board where I collect photos that have inspired me, including actors who I think would fill the roles of my characters best. Alex O’Loughlin would be Sam.

http://www.pinterest.com/jessepearle/second-skin/

6. Finally, tell us about your latest release!

Second Skin is part love story and part coming-of-age story. It’s a love triangle, so there are three main characters. Pilar Flores is the daughter of a drug lord, eighteen at the beginning of the story and trying to find her place in her father’s business. Leo Reyes is one of her father’s employees and the leader of an LA street gang who becomes her father’s right hand later in the story. Sam Blanco is a boy in the neighborhood Leo’s gang holds dominion over, whose goal is to make enough money selling tattoos after high school to get himself and his younger sister the hell out of dodge and away from their abusive father.

The three characters’ worlds collide in unexpected ways, from Pilar’s first encounter with the tragic hero, Leo, to the complicated entanglements that occur when the young tattoo artist, Sam, comes into the picture. While the love story is most definitely between Pilar and Leo, every love story has its obstacles to overcome. Sam is one of those obstacles for Pilar and Leo, but in truth he may be the catalyst that allows the two lovers to understand each other more.

However, at its heart, the entire series is Sam’s story, even though the “happily ever after” isn’t his in this particular book. Sam’s Happily Ever After comes later.

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The small plane touched down on the runway of the airfield outside Los Angeles. After taxiing to the hangar, Leo powered down the engines and pulled off his headset. He felt like a weight had been lifted, but anxiety twisted in his gut as he worked through his explanation to the old man.

Gustavo had needed to be taken care of, that fact had been clear to him for months. The only reason he hadn’t gone to Arturo Flores about Gustavo’s consistent series of fuckups was because of his promise to Pilar to leave her father out of it.

The deed was done, the memory of the corpse he’d left behind in the little shack in the Sonoran desert still left him ice cold to his core. He’d had to ignore the spark of memory of another pair of eyes whose light the same gun had extinguished two years earlier. Two years to the day, he thought.

Leo no longer regretted any of those bullets, starting with the very first one from his brother’s gun that had pierced his own chest. Each had brought him closer to her. Now all he had to do was claim what was his.

The phone at his hip buzzed as he made his way across the tarmac to the parking lot. He settled in his car and started the engine, turning the AC on full blast while he checked his messages.

911! Call me when you land!

It was from Pilar. Goosebumps rose up on his arms in spite of the hot August air that baked the interior of his car.

Jesse will be awarding a $25 Amazon GC to two randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter during the tour

 

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#BookBlast Resolutions by @TeriLRiggs

Teri Riggs was destined to be a writer.  As a small girl she didn’t read bedtime stories, she made up her own.  Who needed Little Red Riding Hood or The Three Little Pigs when there were so many great tales bouncing around in her head?  When she grew up and became a mother to three little girls, she continued the tradition of making up bedtime stories.  On the occasions she chose to tell conventional fairytales, Teri usually gave them a bit of tweaking here and there or added a new ending.  Her girls loved it.

After her daughters had the nerve to actually grow up and leave home, Teri discovered she had a passion for writing and jumped right in.  It came as no surprise she chose to write mysteries and happily-ever-after’s since that’s the genres she loves to read.

Teri lives in Marietta, Georgia with her husband, one of her daughters and two dogs that seem to think they rule the world.  And some days Teri thinks maybe they do.

Teri still frequently tells herself stories as she falls asleep.  The only difference now is she wakes up the next morning and turns her bedtime stories into books.

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Blurb:

DEA agent Eve Taylor has had her fill of alpha males. When Resolutions’ operative and former lover, Dillon “Mac” McKenna, threatened her hard-earned independence, she ran. On a mission to gather evidence against a Colombian drug-lord, Eve discovers the drug-lord is helping terrorists plan an attack on American soil. Before she can escape with the vital information, she’s captured and comes face to face with her mortality…

As a teen, Mac watched his family fall apart after his mother died doing dangerous U.N. work. The possibility of losing Eve to a mission ignited an overwhelming need to protect her. When he forced her to choose him or her job, she walked away. Two years later, it seems all his nightmares have come true and he’s tasked with rescuing her from a Colombian prison. Mac has never stopped loving Eve, but does he dare risk his heart when he’s so terrified of losing…

On the run, Mac and Eve must learn to trust each other again in order to stay alive.

 

Excerpt:

  Mac opened the door, but positioned his body to block Rex from entering.  

   “You get five minutes, Brewer. Then I want you out.”

   “You’ve got no right to issue orders, McKenna. Step aside.”

   Towering above Rex, Mac didn’t budge.

   “Come on, McKenna, don’t be an ass.”

   Before he showed Rex exactly how much of an ass he could be, Cade stepped between them.

   “Hey, partner, he’s gonna see Eve eventually. Move and let him in. The sooner he sees her, the sooner he’s on his way back home, and out of our hair.”

   Mac looked at Eve. A full grimace replaced her half-smirk. Her eyes were all but pleading with his. Damn. He let Rex in.

   “Don’t forget, Brewer, five minutes.” Mac tapped the face of his watch. “Starting now.”

   Cade silently left the room. Mac stepped to a corner, stood with his feet firmly planted, and crossed his arms.

   Rex moved to Eve’s bed and looked over his shoulder at Mac, suspicion etching his features. “How about some privacy here?”

   “No fucking way, Brewer. You’re wasting your five minutes…nope, make that four minutes, thirty-two seconds.”

   “Mac, please.”

   Unable to refuse her, he gave in. “I’m right outside the door if you need me.”

   He zeroed in on Rex. “I’m watching the clock.” For good measure, he added, “And you.”

   Mac stomped from the room, deliberately leaving the door open. Cade, standing in the hall, grinned and shook his head.

   “That little show of manliness make you feel better?”

   “Fuckin’ right.”

 
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#newrelease Life Flight by Shaunna Wolf

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What would I tell a new author?

As well as being an author, I am also an editor.  On top of that, I mentor several authors.  One of the questions I am often asked is, Why do I have to do that (fill in the blank) followed by (insert headline making author) doesn’t.  The question still catches me by surprise.  Then I try to think back to the first novel I finished.  I was so in love with that, now trunk novel, that I was sure it would be the next best seller, I was on my way to the bank, followed by a million adoring fans, with a fist full of royalty checks.

 

The difference, I think, was that I was also working as an editor.  I knew that, (insert headline making author’s name) had an editor, that they most likely had a box, or two, of rough drafts and false starts, and did I say it already? An editor.  Most the time when you crack open a book and you look at the dedication page, what do you see?  I thank my mom, my dad, grandma Joe, and so on .  Rare to find a dedication page that says and thank you to my editor.  I’ve seen a few, but not many.  Why?

Part of it is vanity.  No one wants to attribute their success to someone else.  If you win a race in a new pair of running shoes, do you thank the maker of those shoes?  Very unlikely.  So it’s the same with authors, rarely do they thank their editors.   I think this leads to those on the outside of the industry to paint a picture of their favorite well to do author, sitting in a chair, smoking jacket on, and banging out a perfect first draft.  It leads them to thinking that first draft is perfection without a single word being touched.

The reality check is often in the form of reviews, if the author self publishes and gets their book out of the hands of family and friends and into the hands of objective readers, and in rejections if they go that route.  My advice to new authors: Writing is work.  Let me clarify that, writing is creative, yes, but to produce a great book, is work.  It means editing, no it isn’t an editor’s job to fix punctuation (typos yes), or run a spell check, or to rewrite your novel while you bang out the next one.  That’s the writer’s job, to learn their craft, and, yes, this means grammar and spelling and all of that, then write the best story you can and submit the cleanest draft you can, after it has been read by a few beta readers that don’t share any of your DNA.

I learned the hard way, I handed that first draft, of the now trunk novel, over to a beta reader and every single thing they pointed out felt like a punch in the gut.  I got mad.  I cried.  Then I subscribed to a few writer’s magazines and got down to work.  If a reader finds fault in the story, mechanics or plot, move on, but if several do, it’s not that you are misunderstood, or your writing, it might be that you need to hone your craft a bit. 

Bottom line, learn the craft, and writing is a job, if you can find a degree of separation from the work, the work will be better for it. 

Blurb:

Malachi Blackfeather has spent twenty years in the Army. Two of those years as a Vietnam POW. Now that he's out, all he wants is some peace and quiet to figure out what to do with the rest of his life. Between the flashbacks, and an over interest in sex that is now being called sex addiction, finding his path isn't easy.

Kat is trying to escape an abusive marriage. Her soon to be ex is a master at manipulating the system, and her family thinks she should stay with him, "because no other man will want her". She's looking for escape in any form she can get it.

When they meet, sparks fly. Trapped by a blizzard, can two damaged people, who think there is no chance of love in the world for them, find each other, and survive an unforeseen circumstance that puts both of them in danger?

Mystery, romance, and danger, fill this novel, with a story that will draw you in and not let go.

Excerpt

We stared at each other until Johnny cleared his throat.  The back of her hand went down the side of my face.  She put the back of her hand to her face.  Frowned, and then moved back to her place on the floor.  What had that meant?

The trooper cracked a beer.  Began telling us about a nudist house party he’d broken up.  Kat laughed, stroked his ego with her voice.  But her gaze kept coming back to me, I’d look back and she’d shift her attention away, then I’d catch her again.  Did she want me out of the room?  Did her soul’s demon want this new prospect?  Did she even see it as a demon?  As something that had taken the place of real feelings and human emotions--to the point they had to be borrowed and stolen from others?

My third beer and the room felt like the outdoors.  Wind whistled over the glass.  I pulled the other blankets out of the closet.  Zipped my coat.  Johnny zipped his and pulled gloves on.  Stood up.  At least not drunk.

“Going to my car,” he told us, “Y’all welcome to come sit in the warmth.”

“Mine's got a full tank as well.  Gets too bad, we can sit in it.”  I grasped his hand, glad I’d gone back for this man. “Thanks.”

“Smoke, before we’re in for the night?”

I stepped outside with him.  The air felt as if it would shatter.  Amazingly, the lights were on over in the restaurant.  The sound of a diesel engine running echoed over the parking lot.  Johnny laughed. 

“Guess I know where I’m heading, find me a booth, and get some shut eye.”

Not a bad idea.  At least warm--and hot food.  He lit his Winston, I lit a Camel.  We stood that way, two men, each scarred in his own way by a shared experience that we hadn’t even realized was one.  And Kat scarred by something, something before her marriage. 

“That little woman,” Johnny said.  “Ain’t none my business.  But everyone said she’s a free spirit--born after her time, shoulda been her age in the 60’s.”  His blue-eyed gaze flashed to me, then away.  “Take the right kinda man to make that kinda woman into a wife, but if you got any smarts, you’ll give it a shot.  The way you look at her, and the way she looks back, yeah, the way of things brought you together for a reason.”  He dropped the butt in the snow and took sure steps across the ice covered parking lot.

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Freya’s Bower