Welcome everyone including those accidental stumblers who were looking for something unrelated, and came across this post. Stay! I love company!
It has been a while since I posted. Given that, you’d think I’d be refreshed and raring to go. Nope. I’m telling you this so you keep your expectations reasonable.
Spring and summer were busy for me. Mr. Quinn and I sold our condo in Victoria, BC and moved to the Okanagan, which is also in BC, but not on an island, so no more ferries! I love our new home. The weather is beautiful, I’m closer to family, and the people here are very friendly and welcoming. And of course, there’s wine!
Having said that, I almost ran over a bear a week ago coming back from my toque-making workshop. Fortunately, he (or she) was faster than me, so there was no actual impact. Also fortunately for me, I was in my car and not on a bike, skateboard, unicycle or in a restored, cherry red ’66 mustang convertible. However, because of the incident, I learned I was a coward and now am too afraid to walk outside without an escort.
Where is Ryan Reynolds when you need him?
And speaking of the new world in which we live, my stalking is currently on hold. That’s been rough for me and I’ve found myself following random men on motorcycles (in my car with a mask) just to add a little spice to my life.
I also went ATVing, kayaking, and sailboarding, though I can only recommend the kayaking. The sailboard kept bucking me off and the ATVing was like being in a dirt pit with a windwalker.
What a wonderful segue, Jasmin! And also an Easter egg.
Forbidden had been released!
As you may or may not know, Forbidden is Leah and Lucien’s story in the Shifters of Darkness Falls Series.
A boy and girl meet in the forest and discover that they are fated mates. Trouble ensues. Evil lurks. Horses whinny. There’s even an Old Mother.
I’m not kidding!
Leah’s story was both a blast to write and a nerve-wracking experience for me. I love the character of Leah, but I’ve never been inside her head (POV-wise).
From a writer’s perspective, to know a character you have to truly understand her. And Leah is probably the most complex character I’ve ever written. She’s also an innocent, but I didn’t realize that until I started writing her story. She’s tough, resilient, and loyal, but her bold personality hides a woman who carries the weight of the world on her shoulders.
And how to write the shifter male who mates with Leah? Carefully! When I begin this series, some of you speculated that Leah would be paired with Gideon, but for me, it was always going to be Lucien. Leah is fire and I worried about matching fire with fire. Lucien is a gentle snow storm, which is what Leah needs in her life.
That’s a wrap, folks!
The Shifters of Darkness Falls series is complete, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t a whole lot more shifter stories to tell. Originally, I planned to have eight books in the Darkness Falls series, but sometimes characters don’t cooperate. I needed to wrap up the whole serial killer storyline and I couldn’t do it without Leah and Leah is a hard act to follow.
Sooooooooo – new series.
There are four packs in the Darkness Falls area. The next series will focus on the Mountain Pack.
The Mountain Shifter Pack is led by Ren and his mate, Cherime. They have a small, but hardy group of shifters who prefer the solitude of their own company but come together as a community when needed. While the pack is small, they are a force to be reckoned with. They are strong, hardy, and territorial. And they don’t like outsiders.
If you’re anything like me, you love a big strong mountain man (that bathes regularly of course) and who better to start with than Oz. If you’ve read Basic Instinct, Oz was introduced as Adrienne Powell’s boyfriend, and also an early suspect in her murder. He showed up briefly in Fierce Intentions and after that, was practically an unmentionable.
But all this time, he’s been on his mountain, keeping his head down because he’s a loner with a hate on for the real world. In fact, he could have been the serial killer, but if you’ve read Forbidden, you know he wasn’t. And if you haven’t read Forbidden, he still wasn’t. I don’t think that’s a spoiler.
The great thing about this new series is that we’ll get to stay in touch with everyone from The Shifters of Darkness Falls series (friends and foes), because they will regularly make cameos.
Dark Promises (Darkness Falls Mountain Shifters) will be out early in 2022. I’m working on it as we speak (or will be after I hang up).
What’s it about? I’m happy you asked!
Betrayed by her mate and left a widow with a newborn, Mara of the Darkness Falls Lodge Pack vows never to mate again.
Oz, a solitary mountain shifter, is still grieving the death five years ago of his fated mate. Though he’s moved on, he refuses to betray the memory of his woman by loving again.
Oz and Mara’s worlds collide on a hostile mountain on a horrific day that will have long-lasting repercussions. In a moment of mercy, they make a promise that will forever tie them together. As they struggle to honour that commitment, tensions flare and sparks fly, but can they let go of their pasts to find love again?
Housekeeping…
… is a foreign concept, but I did clean the top of my newly inherited stove today. Also, I discovered that my oven is not self-cleaning! I cannot abide an oven that doesn’t clean itself, so it and I are now in a war of wills. I fear it will win, because my only weapon is my credit card. Mr. Quinn is siding with the oven and while I’ve told him that he can clean the oven if he loves it so much, I’m afraid his will is much more steely than mine. I will break down first.
That was a tangent and if you are actually still reading, I apologize.
What I meant to talk about was…
Why I went wide and failed
I’m back to publishing solely on Amazon and thus, kindle unlimited. Administratively, it was difficult for me to manage five platforms. I know many authors who do it with grace and aplomb. However, grace and I have never been paired together in a sentence and I don’t actually know what aplomb means.
I also didn’t find that my sales increased by doing so (although I am well aware that I was supposed to do more than put the books up and say, “There.”). In fact, I was recently told of this concept called “marketing” and will explore it one day, probably after bear season and before snowshoe season. There are a few days between the two.
Before I go (I know you’re rolling your eyes by now and wailing, “Will this never end?”), if you haven’t already got a copy of my free book, Fearless, you can get it by signing up for my newsletter.
It’s all fun and games until the scissors slip and someone gets circumcised!
Hello you sexy, sexy things!
Am I objectifying you all? Of course, but at least I’m being inclusive. Sexy is as sexy does.
What does hell are you talking about, Jasmin?
In my world it means sexy has less to do with awesome good looks and more to do with who you are (in my case, I humbly admit its both).
For example, take Ren, the Mountain pack’s alpha in Savage Hearts (Shifters of Darkness Falls Book 4) (not literally, because he’s mine, you hear me, MINE!).
He didn’t try to convince himself he was good-looking. Maybe as a young man, he had the goods, but now, he was weathered, his nose broken a couple of times, scars across his torso. His ragged beard hid another on his neck, put there by a momma bear that took exception to Ren wandering between her and her cubs. But good-looking and attractive didn’t always equate.
Mind you, the rest of the paragraph focuses on how the babes love Ren’s size and demeanor, and how he’s a fuck and leave ’em kind of alpha, sooooo still a bit shallow.
Speaking of sexy, lets talk about blowjobs. When I’m writing sex scenes, I sometimes go to the internet for pointers. After all, Mr. Google is the reigning king of sex information. I need something, he’s got it. Google images is a huge resource and so are some cocks.
Mr. Google’s theme song
There’s a paragraph in the Savage Hearts where Cherime compares shifters to cocks and another where she describes Ren’s dick. I find myself writing similar descriptions across my books about the main male character’s cock: long (naturally), wide (also goes without saying), throbbing (all dicks throb, don’t they?), smooth helmet or mushroom head (there are probably other idioms I use, but none come to mind at the moment).
But I wanted something new, so I looked at a lot of images of penises (sigh, a writer’s work is never done) to come up with the perfect dick for Ren. This is how I describe it in Savage Hearts:
His flaccid cock was impressive enough and Cherime inspected it closely, her pussy warming up at its appearance. His foreskin hid the prolific hood, which, when hard, was like a mushroom with a super long and wide stem. His penis seemed lighter than the rest of his skin, but the helmet, when exposed, was as a dark as he was. Erect, the flesh on his shaft was silky to the touch, the root of it nestled in dark curly hair.
I know what you’re thinking. All those hours spent looking at penises and that’s the best Jasmin could come up with?
Yes! I’m a writer, not a genius!
Ren’s a mountain shifter, so there’s no manscaping for him. Also, a first for me is the mention of foreskin on a male character’s penis, although I talk about it all the time in real life, especially at dinner parties where polite conversation is encouraged.
Canada’s national animal. That’s how cool we are.
In Canada (yeah, I’m Canadian), it used to be that all little boys got circumcised (back in the day when I had my little boys), but I think that’s changing. I don’t know for sure because I haven’t seen many little boy penises recently (even I know better than to google that one).
At first I thought it would be wrong of me to ask young men whether they were cut or uncut. Then I thought, why the hell not? I won’t ask the little, little boys, because their mothers might call the police on me, but the big boys that are old enough to get into nightclubs seemed like fair game.
I channelled Cherime (shifter babe in book 4), wore a tight red dress, stillettos and a matching red face mask and stood outside a popular downtown nightclub with my clipboard and and pen. I looked extremely official with my is-he-or-isn’t-he checklist.
The problem was that everyone was wearing masks (you know, because of Covid-19, not because it was Halloween) and we couldn’t hear each other.
What the fuck, halloween?
Quick aside. Since when is Halloween a proper noun? It’s not a fucking statutory holiday. I know I sound too much like my grandmother, but Halloween doesn’t know its proper place. It needs its ass kicked.
Anyway, let’s move along before the all the attention goes to Halloween’s head (and not the one on top of his shoulders).
I arrived at the nightclub, looking sexy (not sexy is as sexy does, but downright so hot I was smoking. Which I don’t. Smoke, I mean. It’s a metaphor.
First guy to come up was a sweet little thing (maybe 20) that would never get to be a character in my books, because his girl friend was Nicole Kidman to his Tom Cruise, all height, heels and looking down on her little luv. Nonetheless, I was not there to be judgey, so I said, “Are you circumcised?”
Tom & Nic in the olden days before the big D. No sneering by Nicole.
He said, “What?”
Damn masks – they make the air fresher, but you can’t hear a thing. I raised my voice slightly and did a little a circular hand motion over my lower lady bits (vagina, people!). “Circumcised!”
He stared down at my lady bits too long based on his girlfriend’s reaction. She looked to him, then me, then back to him, then punched him in the arm so hard he squealed. Unlike Nicole Kidman, who doesn’t sneer, the cranky woman sneered at me and dragged him away.
I checked off Yes. Maybe it’s a generalization, but men who squeal must be circumcised. I mean, Ren would never squeal after Cherime punched him.
Next two guys that showed up were taller and far more filled out than my first candidate. I’d say lickable, if they weren’t so young and smug.
Why, hello zucchini!
“Hello, boys,” I said in a low, raspy, voice.
They stopped and smiled at me through their masks (yeah, yeah, they were wearing masks so how did I know they were smiling? If you’d been them looking at me, you’d know why they were smiling).
“Holy hell!” they said. Or maybe it was hello. The masks kind of muffle stuff.
“I’m doing a survey of young men. Can you tell me if you’re circumcised?” (btw, I don’t know how to spell circumsised. I’ve gotten the fucking word wrong every single time I’ve typed it.)
“What?” they said. It was like talking to Tweedledum and Tweedledee.
I sighed. “Circumcised!” Once again, I raised my voice and did the pelvis level circular lady bits motion.
They looked at each other, then the taller of the two said, “Supersized? Oh yeah, we are.”
He smirked at his buddy, who took his hand and kissed the knuckles. “But we’re monogamous and also totally gay.” His gaze travelled over my body. “No offense.”
The best nightclub in town. In case you didn’t realize it, that’s me right up front (not really me though).
I took a deep breath and steamed up my sexy professor glasses that I like to wear when I’m wanting to look sexy, but intelligent (the two are not mutually exclusive except in reference to me).
Anyway, I took the glasses off as three sexy young men sauntered up to me and stopped without me having to throw myself between them and the entrance.
They stood side-by-side like the three bears, but to be honest, they were all hot, but not too hot. Just right.
“Excuse me,” I purred, holding my gorgeous long red fingernail attached to my finger up in the air. The pointer one, not the FU one. “Don’t go anywhere, boys. I need to make a quick call.”
I dialled Mr. Quinn. FYI, we don’t have an open-marriage, and I don’t cheat but I do lie. “I’m at the market on Yates Street getting some… uh… hummus, but the store’s being robbed by these three hot men with long… um… guns and they’re handcuffing us all, so I can’t talk long. Just letting you know that I might a little late.”
Mr. Quinn replied, “Tell the beaver I said hello.” And hung up.
How the hell did Mr. Quinn know about the beaver?
I turned back to the boys, who’d been politely chatting with each other. One of them handed me back my pen, which had fallen while I was on the phone. “You dropped your pen, ma’am,” he said.
I was shocked and dismayed, both of which made me stagger to the wall so I could prop myself up. “Ma’am?” I yell-gasped as they slipped inside the club. “You fucking three bears, calling me Ma’am!”
I kept my string of curses going until the manager came out of the club and told me I had to either settle down or leave.
I settled down. I only ever leave when I’m fucking good and ready (or I’m arrested). I called Mr. Quinn back and told him the cops had arrived and arrested the assholes who had handcuffed me to a beaver, so I wouldn’t be late after all.
I decided to try once more time and base my findings on an N of 1. That’s a bullshit statistical word, of which I’m a fan. There are other words I could use, but none of them would make sense.
As usual, I’ve digressed rather badly.
The next guy that came up to me was so seriously hot that I reconsidered my marriage vows for a few seconds. Who hasn’t done that? When a girl sees a guy who she knows she would have stalked if not for the old ball and chain at home in his recliner, her mind goes to all those places her body can’t.
Anyway, I stepped in front of him, all elegant and graceful and stuff and said, “Hello you sexy man.” My voice was smooth as hot chocolate with marshmallows on top.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m not Mexican.”
Prison in Canada
Oops. “I said sexy… oh never mind. I’m doing a survey on circumcision.”
“What decision?” He was clearly confused.
“Circumcision!” I yelled, this time using a scissor hand motion across my lower lady bits.
“Oh,” he said, finally realizing what I was talking about. He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m not into that kind of fetish.”
As he walked away, I winged the clipboard at him, catching the back of his head and knocking him out. He’s okay now, but I’m writing this blog from prison. Mr. Quinn won’t post bail. It’s his punishment for me because I lied to him about hummus.
Now where were we? Oh yeah, Blowies!
Lucky girl!
The trouble with Mr. Google, is he pulls you in with interesting articles that make you want to look. Of course I did, because I never not look. I was fascinated by the blogs that described different types of blowjobs and how to give the best blowjob ever (which I’m sure you are, like me, already an expert at, but what if there’s a new technique that we aren’t aware of?).
Who wouldn’t want to know this stuff? Certainly, I did.
Fun facts (or are they? I mean facts, not fun, because of course facts are always fun, but do we know whether these facts are borne from an N of 1? See how I circled back there. You should ignore me when I’m talking about statistics – it’s all just bullshit anyway):
Did you know that how you give a blowjob says a lot about who you are. For example, if you’re a deep throater, then
you don’t do anything halfway. With you, it’s all or nothing, especially when it comes to penises. You practiced suppressing your gag reflex on your own time because you want to blow his mind while you blow his member. You’re selfless and committed, able to dedicate yourself to your partner 100 percent when the need arises.
Most of these articles about blowies all seem to agree that enthusiasm is the first and foremost factor. If you don’t like giving blow jobs, then you should figure it out.
I got my enthusiasm from my grandparents!
I have to admit, I’m a rather enthusiastic blowjob giver because it’s so much fun to to throw a guy off his game by going down on him while he’s driving (don’t do this on a busy highway), or in an alley, or the supply room at a hospital, or the bathroom of my grandmother’s house. She was shocked at first, then pissed at me when I told her to stop with the advice and get out!
My grandmother almost died several weeks after I visited when her falsies got stuck on grandpa’s penis while she was deep-throating him. She okay, but poor grandpa got circumcised that day. He hasn’t been the same sine.
Ren & Cherime if they were bear shifters, which they aren’t, but there were no cool wolf pics like this.
Speaking of awesome blowies!
In Savage Hearts, Cherime gives Ren a morning blowjob, that made me have to stop my editing and reaquaint myself with Rosario, my lovely little pink vibrating toy.
You want the details? I don’t have time to spend with Rosario right now, so I guess you’re going to have to read the book.
I know what you’re thinking: Good segue, Jasmin! Maybe you aren’t, but I certainly am. Time to get back to Savage Hearts and my wonderful world of Darkness Falls shifters!
You may have already guessed this, but just in case you’re still trying to read between the lines (there’s nothing between the lines – never is, never will be), Savage Hearts is now available on Amazon. The book is fun, but serious, Ren and Cherime are fun, sexy, and also serious. And for the first time ever, there’s a bonus chapter at the end. I know! I was surprised too. At first, it was an epilogue, but then I wrote a different epilogue, so it became a bonus chapter.
But wait, there’s more!
Book 5 of the Darkness Falls series, Primal Heat is up for preorders, so if you love book 4 (and how could you not?), you’re going to love Book 5!
It will be available February 26th, 2021. I know what you’re thinking. What the fuck, Jasmin? Can’t you write the book faster?
Why yes! Yes, I could, buuuuttttttt the last book in my Running with the Devil Series is set to be published in November, so I have to write that one first.
Yes girls and boys, Book 12, tentatively titled House of Shadows, is the final chapter in the war between Rusya and Jackman. My heart hurts a little when I think about it. It’s going to be hard to let go of these characters, but life marches on.
House of Shadows (Running with the Devil Book 12) will also go up for preorders in September.
Last but not least!
Finally, I have to plug my book, Unleashed, which I released at the end of June. It’s currently a standalone book, but I’ve been sketching out a series plan. Maybe three or four more books to come!
I hope your summer has held some joyful moments as well as some peaceful solitude. Fall is around the corner and so is that smug (not a pronoun) bastard, halloween.
Peace out my sisters (and brothers).
I love you much (am I overdoing it? You’ll know because you’ll start feeling highly uncomfortable, then you’ll try avoiding me, but it won’t work. I have major stalker skills – I even won an award for them!
xxoo
Jasmin
PS. I have no PS for you today. I ran out of clever about half-way through this blog.
PSS. Wait. I just thought of one. Check out these new 5-star read by authors that I regularly stalk!
To all the people I’ve deceived, which is everyone who thinks I’m nice. On the outside, sure, but on the inside I’m a roiling, seething mess of fury and curses, thirsting for vengeance and sour gummy bears. I’m lying again, except about the curses. I’m generally laid back with a totally cool vibe. Fuck, more lies. We should move on – this greeting is getting far too long to qualify as a salutation.
My point (just when you were beginning to think I didn’t have one) is that Duplicity (Running with the Devil Book 11) is on the digital bookshelf (yahoooooo!), with the paperback to follow. Once the proof of Duplicity arrives in the mail and I give it the thumps up, it too will be available on Amazon.
This ain’t no pussycat!
Speaking of papyrus, did you know, the ‘thumbs up’ expression originated in Roman amphitheaters and the gestures were opposite of today’s? So, back then if I gave the thumb’s up, the lion ate you. If I gave the thumbs down, you ate the lion. These days neither happens unless you’ve pissed off a lion and its pride gives the thumbs up. Moral of this lengthy aside is don’t piss off lions.
If I wasn’t so lazy doing other things like writing and drinking lattes (yes, you heard me, lattes from my new latte-making machine, which I had to order because my Starbucks is closed), I would have all my books in paperback. There are just a few remaining, and once done, I’m going to have them reproofed and reposted.
The proofing won’t be done by me, because my proof reader extraordinaire tells me I can’t proof my own books, which is a lie because I have proof of my proofing, but it’s bad proof because my proofing sucks – and not in that good way.
That was a long-winded start to my amazing blog, which, at the moment, lacks a bit of focus.
I just finished up the last of my four fabulous interviews with my favourite authors (lot of Fs, my favourite letter), DeeDee Prince, Annabel Joseph, Nikita Slater, and Bijou Hunter), all of whom I am now on a first name basis, except maybe Nik. She’s a bit deceptive about her true feelings towards me – she loves me, I know she does, though she avoids the topic (and me) when I want to cuddle with her.
There may be more interviews in the future, because I have more favourite authors, but as you know, I’m shy in that ‘I love you, I stalk you, I might even kidnap you’ way, and my fear of rejection prevents me from approaching head on. Another lie, the only thing I fear rejection from is ice cream and so far, it has never let me down. In fact, I trust it without reservation.
You can count on me, hot stuff!
As you may have heard, the only two things in life you can count on are ice cream and red wine. But I’ve learned how wrong I am about wine. It lies, offers promises of increased intelligence, happiness, and beauty, but really is just a mean, bitter sack of grapes, who after two bottles, impairs my vision, makes me trip over my feet, sway from side to side, and gives me headaches, sometimes of epic proportions.
So while I’ll never break up with Red Wine, the only thing in life I can count on is ice cream.
Enough about whatever I’m talking about (even I’m not sure anymore). Let’s discuss the man of the hour, Mr. Jackman (aka Dimitri L’vovich Mikalev, Rusya Savisin’s nemesis, and also, cousin, and Brook Lafferty’s love interest in Duplicity)!
I love this man, I want this man, I was thinking about buying a 3-D printer (but the good ones are beyond my paltry budget) and making this man. It took much patience to hold off writing his story until Book 11, but at the same time, as long as I held off, he was still attainable.
Don’t get me wrong, I also love Rusya Savisin, and my loyalties are torn, but if I had to choose, Jackman would be my guy. Why you ask? Well, maybe the Jackman camp didn’t, but I know for sure the Rusya Savisin camp asked.
For starters, I’m terrible at small talk, and so is Rusya Savisin, so we’d never talk. I know what you’re thinking. So the fuck what – there are other things that we could be doing, and that’s true, but he’s dangerous in a way that would make me fear him like Esma never did. He needed a woman that would swing at his fast balls (I just made that up – it’s a baseball analogy, but it kind of sounds dirty, doesn’t it?).
Things that are fast balls!
Jackman, on the other hand, is my opposite in some ways, because although I can get bossy and bitchy and even demanding, I often get shy around men (except for Mr. Quinn because we’ve been married long enough that he thinks it’s okay to burp loudly while I’m on the phone).
I’m okay with some men like BiL (generic name for all 11 of my brothers-in-law), former colleagues, etc, but men like Rusya and Jackman would keep me tongue-tied for months.
The difference between the two handsome devils, is that Rusya doesn’t have the ability to bridge my discomfort because he is the tall, dark, silent type. Jackman is tall and dark, but he rarely hesitates to speak his mind.
Too bad they don’t get along. Did someone say threesome?
Originally, I titled Duplicity, Mr. Master – it was always Mr. Master in my head, but then fucking Brook Lafferty walked into his life and I knew that Mr. Master wouldn’t work, because this story was as much about Brook as it was about Jackman.
I had also planned to pair Jackman with Emmaline Hawthorne (of Fallen Angel fame), but Robert Creed had his sights set on that girl and there was nothing I could do about it. Fortunately (or unfortunately), Brook came along, all reckless and difficult and I realized this was the right woman to take Jackman on.
Having said all that, I love all my men and while I’m sad that Duplicity is Book 11 of the RWD series, which means that Book 12 (working title is House of Shadows, but I think it will change before publication) is the last of the series. BUT… I have been waiting to write book 12 since I wrote The Darkest Hour (Book 1). I had a haphazard plan when I started the series and it didn’t always play out as expected, but it was always headed towards Book 12, which, dear readers, is going to be explosive (or a dud and everyone will go ‘meh’)!
Big News Announcement now!
Not to brag (okay, maybe a little bragging), I caught Mr. Jackman while he was on a covert trip to Moscow and he agreed drop by my room at the Lotte Hotel for an interview. I was so fucking excited I nearly peed myself. Fortunately, I was in the shower when he called (my phone is shower proof) and well, you know….
Shows Moscow river at night
The Lotte Hotel has appeared in my books a couple of times – it is a real hotel in the heart of Moscow and has some awesome suites. When I’m writing, unless the hotel/motel room is a standard room, I always find a real hotel and try to stick close to the description of both the hotel and the suite. Anyway, I’ve digressed yet again. Where was I?
Outfit #1 – not approved
Oh yeah, peeing in the shower.
I used a false name like Brook did as it seemed to work for her. Unfortunately, Mr. Jackman saw right through me, mostly because I was wearing a sheer raincoat when I answered the door.
Not my nose, but close.
He narrowed his eyes and refused to look beyond my nose, which I’ve often been told is absolute perfection, so I understood the attraction. But then, he pointed his finger towards the bedroom and told me to put on appropriate interview attire.
I’m an obedient girl and so I changed into my French maid outfit, then joined him on the sofa in the living room. He was drinking the scotch I bought for him. It wasn’t his usual brand, because I am a poor writer who had to pawn Mr. Quinn to get the money to go to Moscow and rent the hotel room.
Surprisingly, Mr. Quinn is worth more than I thought – it’s possible I underestimate the value of a long, loud burp.
Outfit #2 – approved
I opened a bottle of cheap red wine and emptied it into a giant wine glass (I have an emergency travel kit with a corkscrew, the giant wineglass, a thimble, and some moldy cheese) and sat next to Mr. Jackman, alluding that I might have a hearing problem and needed to be within snuggling range.
He didn’t seem to mind, although he questioned my French maid outfit, which I assured him was what journalists these days were wearing (which is a lie, because I’m not a journalist although we have a lot in common, because I write fiction and oftentimes, so do they).
We tapped our glasses and took a drink. I tried to snake my arm through his, like they do at weddings, but Mr. Jackman got all grumbly about me being too close to his scotch. Rejected, I drowned my sorrows (and also, a small black fly that had been buzzing around the room) in alcohol.
I put on a brave face after swallowing the fly and wondered if I now needed to swallow a spider. But Mr. Jackman was getting impatient, and so I started the interview.
Interview with Mr. Jackman
Me (which stands for Jasmin Quinn for those of you who are still uncertain why you’re reading this blog): Mr. Jackman, thank for joining me in this hotel room where we could do absolutely anything we wanted and no one would ever know. May I call you Jackman or do you prefer Dimi?
Mr. J: You may call me Mr. Jackman or Master Jackman or Mr. Master.
Me (swallowing and getting wiggly): How about Mr. J?
Mr. J (narrowing his eyes): Did you think this was a negotiation, girl?
Me (not sure what the right answer is, I hedge): Possibly.
He sighs heavily as he drains his scotch. We’re off to a rocky start, but I’m not some two-bit hack who doesn’t know how to deal with aggressive men (all of it lies—I am a two-bit hack).
Cheech & Chong
Me: Mr. Jackman, I understand that while you run a business that on the surface seems legitimate and even, dare I say, philanthropic, you’re really a criminal with a body count higher than Cheech and Chong, and your sole purpose in life is to piss off your cousin, Rusya Savisin.
Mr. J (fiercely scowling): Was there a question in there.
Me: Yes. Is it all true?
Mr. J (leaning towards me with a stern expression): Yes, it’s all true. But you won’t tell anyone, will you, Jasmin?
Me (licking the fly-infused wine off my lips): Umm. I might have mentioned it in the unauthorized biography I wrote of you.
Mr. J (surprised and unhappy): You wrote a biography of me?
Me (nodding seriously): I’m afraid I did.
Mr. J: Who the fuck authorized you to do that?
Me (wondering if Mr. J really is as smart as I portrayed him in the book): It’s unauthorized, which means no one authorized it.
Mr. J: Are you telling me you wrote a book about me without authorization?
Me (starting to really doubt my ability as a writer): That’s what I’m telling you.
I sense that things are about to get ugly.
Mr. J: Who the fuck do you think you are, Jasmin Quinn?
Me (shoring myself up. Sure I’m broke, weak, and shy and Mr. Jackman is a rich, murderous, sexy motherfucker, but this is my interview and he’s fucking it up): I’m Jasmin Quinn (yep, I’m all about the repetitive emphasis). And just so we’re clear, I made you. (I do the whole stabbing the index finger first at me, then at him, to emphasize who made who – or is that whom?) You would be nothing without me. Do you hear me, Mr. Master (that was a slip of the tongue, but once it was out there, I couldn’t take it back)?
Mr J (not yet willing to back down): You have a smart mouth for a maid. What the fuck did you tell the world about me?
Me (deciding to try to mollify him): I told your side of the story. Your cousin, Rusya, didn’t describe you in a favourable light in his unauthorized biography, so I thought it only fair that you get a chance to redeem yourself in the eyes of my readers.
Mr. J (appearing mollified ashe pours a couple of fingers of scotch): Then, I guess I should thank you.
In case you didn’t get the innuendo.
Me: Yes Sir, you should. I also had some influence on Brook meeting you.
Mr. J (softening – just his face, the rest of him stayed rock hard, including his… uhm… you know… his joystick): I guess you’re not as bad as the rumours I’ve heard.
Me (outraged): What rumours have you heard about me?
Mr J (shrugging dismissively): Unlike the Blue Jays Baseball Team, I’m a closed book.
Me (feeling validated): Aw, that’s so nice that they’re still talking about me.
Mr. J: My sense is that they miss you.
Who loves the Blue Jays? Me! I do!
Me: I miss them too.
I think briefly about dropping by for a quickie visit on my way back to BC, but then remember Mr. Quinn is waiting for me to retrieve him from the pawn shop.
Me (changing the subject): How’s Brook?
Mr. J (smirking like he has a secret): Pregnant
Me: How can she pregnant already? The book was just released and last thing I heard was—.
Mr. J: Stop. No spoilers! And how the fuck do you know anything about anything?
Me (getting frustrated with this hunk of man): Sources, Mr. J, and I won’t reveal them, even under the threat of… uhm… spanking.
Mr. J: Trust me Jasmin, you don’t want me to spank you.
Me (licking my lips and trying to catch his eyes with my gaze): But I do, Mr. J. I really do.
Mr. J (staring at my nose): I promised Brook I would stop spanking women.
Me (disappointed and pissed off at Brook, who always ruins the fun): You didn’t answer my question.
Supersonic sperm at your service, Mrs. Ovary.
Mr. J: What was the question?
Me: How can Brook already be pregnant?
Mr. J (grinning smugly): I guess I have supersonic sperm.
Me (also grinning smugly, but with eyes narrowed as I go for the jugular): Kind of like your cousin’s fast balls? Runs in the family, does it?
Mr. J (apoplectic): I have nothing in common with my fucking cousin, including fast balls. That implies premature ejaculation, which I believe he practices.
Me (calming him by stroking his… uh… shoulder): I don’t think one practices premature ejaculation. I’m sure it just happens. And let me assure you, Rusya is not a premature ejaculator.
Mr. J (calmer now, thanks to my stroking): How do you know this, girl?
Me: Girl talk, Mr. J. Esma told Astrid, who told Kelsie, who spilt the beans to Olivia, who mentioned it in passing when I ran into her in the line-up at Costco (though I can’t say where, because she and Hugo are hiding from Jack Creed, who wants to call in the favour Hugo owes him).
The Gossip Girls – Esma, Astrid, Kelsie, Olivie and that’s me on the end (no it’s not, it’s Katya. I just wanted to belong for once).
Mr. J (losing interest in the girl talk): Do you have any other questions?
Me: A couple more. You know that snowmen-without-the-head bun that Brook ate?
Delicious and doesn’t need butter, though that doesn’t stop me.
Mr. J: Russian Mennonite zwieback. It’s quite delicious.
Me: I know. I’ve made it before.
Mr. J: Have you? (looks at my nose again) Are you Russian?
Me: Mr. Quinn is Russian.
Mr. J (sounding a little jealous, not of Mr. Quinn being Russian, just generally of Mr. Quinn, though it’s possible I’m wishful thinking): And where is this Mr. Quinn?
Me: I pawned him.
He narrows his eyes at me like he can’t understand what I’m about.
Me: It’s a cultural thing; it’s perfectly okay in Canada to pawn your husband if you need travel money.
Mr. J: Will you get him back?
Me: I hope so. I’ve invested a lot of time in him and I’d like not to have start over with a new man. Unless of course… well, I guess you’re not available anymore, are you?
Mr. J: No. Besides Brook will kick your ass if you try to sexually harass me.
Me: Is it sexual harassment if I throw myself at you like a power ranger on Rita Repulsa?
Rita Repulsa I once had a bra like hers but I lost it in a poker match.
Mr. J: Don’t use that fucking mumbo-jumbo girl-power shit on me.
He raises from the sofa and heads for the door as I tag after him. I beg for a kiss, but he refuses, citing his devotion to Brook, who I now wish never existed.
As he strides down the hall, a hotel attendant mistakes my French maid outfit as one of the hotel’s uniforms and puts me to work. I don’t complain and, in the end, earn enough money to buy Mr. Quinn back from the pawnshop.
He’s traumatized by his experience, but his burps are quieter now.
***END OF INTERVIEW***
What’s Next?
Barring any unfortunate and unanticipated events in my life (like getting stuck in an elevator for several days), Unleashed will be unleashed (see what I did there?) on June 26. I’m so excited by this book, because it’s my first full-length standalone book, and also, because I loved writing it. I’m thinking that I may turn it into a three-book series but of course, each series will introduce a different couple, with happy ever after’s and all that good stuff.
But I’m still deciding, mostly because I have so many books in progress and I want to write them all, but I also want to read all the good books other authors write and I’m not sure how many years I have left in the rest of my life, but I’m pretty sure I can’t do everything (I also want to learn to speak Spanish, which is coming along really well). Como lo estoy hacienda (Otro engaño. Estoy usando el traductor de Google). But I’m not lying about wanting to learn.
Somewhere in that last paragraph is my segue into telling you about Nikita’s and Bijou’s new books, both released in May. If you haven’t read them yet, I recommend both (I read them and loved them, which is why I can recommend them).
Enough about other writers. Let’s get back to me.
At the end of August, I’ll be releasing another Shifter’s of Darkness Falls book! Book 4 already, which is hard to believe! I love my life right now, doing my favourite thing (writing if you haven’t already guessed). It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, but never thought it was going to happen. Yet here I am, doing it.
Back to Savage Hearts, Book 4 of Shifters of Darkness Falls. This is Cherime’s and Ren’s story and I’m so freaking excited about the pairing.
Did you know Ren is 6’6” tall? He’s completely uncivilized, unlike my shifter men in the first three books, who are led by their instincts, but are at least house-trained. Ren is a mountain man, Alpha shifter, and has little tolerance for mouthy babes. Enter Cherime, who doesn’t know how to shut up or play nice. Doesn’t matter though, she’s one hot shifter princess who thinks she can take on Ren and win.
Will Ren fall for Cherime? Will he tie her up and gag her? Will he drag her to his mountain home and make her pregnant? Hang in there until August, when the shift hits the fan (even I’m groaning, but also giggling – I swear I haven’t been drinking).
Finally, to round out my year, Book 12 of Running with the Devil will be released in November. I’m sad and thrilled at the same time. More to come on this book in future blogs.
It’s time to call it a blog and move on to the more important stuff, like opening my release day bottle of wine and celebrating.
Cheers to you all,
Love Jasmin
PS. In case you were wondering, I’m not avoiding the topic of COVID-19 in our lives. I’m doing the best I can to embrace the changes necessary to cope with the new now. It’s better than reading the constant barrage of contradictory information in the media and getting worked into knots over things I can’t control.
In my little piece of the world, Mr. Quinn and I do what we can to be part of the solution, such as wearing masks and practicing social distancing when we’re out, isolating unless we need to go out, staying in touch with family and friends over social media, and eating too much.
I thank the health care professionals, the service industry, the Canadian federal and provincial governments, and everyone else who recognizes that we live in a shared world and our actions are the deciding factor in how our future will look. Thank you to us for doing our part to make our world the best place to be.
Except the baseball players. I don’t thank them because they’ve left me high and dry.
Dear everyone I’ve loved before, and now, and also in the future. And the rest of you too!
There is so much happening in the world right now that it makes me want to focus on the little things, like how Greek yogurt tastes with a splash of maple syrup, and my tablet full of e-books written by fantastic indy authors. Add walking in the sunshine, cold smoked tuna, and a cozy bed and I’m a happy girl.
You know what I’m talking about.
We all know what’s going on outside our front doors so there’s no need for me to reiterate. All I can do is impart my limited wisdom on how to do your part to lighten the burden.
Share your toilet paper unless you don’t have enough.
Stay home if you can.
Have sex to pass the time, but don’t get pregnant.
Take the opportunity to have sports-free conversations with your loved ones.
Make sure to profusely thank the delivery people who are bringing to your doorstep what you need.
Don’t go to Saskatchewan because it’s brutally cold there.
Speaking of Saskatchewan, guess what today’s blog is about? Yes! You guessed it. My one and on one with Nikita Slater, where we hit all the gritty topics! In your face Barbara Walters. I’ve got Nik twice now and you, well, you’re a ZERO (imagine taunting laughter).
Who is Nikita Slater?
She’s this awesome dark romance writer, who despite her protests, is incredibly nice and sometimes even helpful. She’s a darling girl who pole dances, eats chocolate, and has regular meltdowns.
Fortunately for me, she lives in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan in the great country of Canada, so I rarely see her in crisis (I also block her number during her meltdown moments). I’m very fragile and she can be mean despite her niceness.
But, as an intrepid interviewer, I will go anywhere and do anything to get my story (I’m like Clark Kent that way), so I hauled ass to Saskatoon* in the dead of March to get the goods on Ms. Slater (not the real goods, she doesn’t give up those to girls).
We met in a pub rather than her home because she claimed her llamas ate the couch. I’ve had a similar encounter with goats, so I sympathized. The pub was an Irish one, which seemed fitting, since we celebrated St. Patrick’s Day (March 17th for those of you who have been in a coma your entire life) this past Tuesday.
I love St. Paddy’s day. Why (I know you’re not going to ask, so I’m just going to say)? Because March 17th was also my mother’s birthday. Quite a coincidence given that she’s Romanian; okay, that’s not really a coincidence, but my father was English and Scottish, which also isn’t Irish although my mother said that Grandpa Quinn was a happy drunk who danced like an Irishman and liked to brawl. Also, we always got green birthday cake on March 17th.
More of my favourite things!
Speaking of the luck of the Irish (a term, by the way, that has to do with early 1800 American miners), I met my girl at O’Shea’s Irish Pub, where we ate chicken wings and drank green beer. I tried to order the green wine, but Nikita cautioned against it. Something about projectile vomiting and hives.
It was freaking cold outside and Ms. Slater was dressed weather appropriate in a big parka and snow boots, a toque on her head that practically obscured her vision, heavy mittens on her hands, and a scarf tightly wound around her face. It took me three drinks before I realized I was interviewing Jan Arden, not Ms. Slater. I was not impressed that Canada’s most-loved singer (if you don’t count Celine Dion, which I never do) tried to elbow in on Nik’s interview.
Jan Arden singing Insensitive
I finally tracked down Nikita, sitting in a corner with five empty shot glasses in front of her and a boy toy under the table. I accidentally kicked the boy, who seemed to like it, but decided to leave the two of us alone until after the interview.
The real Nikita has pink hair, long and fluffy, with a fair amount of static in it. Each time I tried to stroke her head, I got shocked. She was also wearing leggings and a blouse with skulls on it, and black wrist cuffs with metal gears and other shit.
We ordered a fresh round of drinks, the Stuffed Leprechaun Platter and a side of calamari that came with feet and faces, which I refused to eat. Nikita advised me that the green wine was perfectly safe to drink and had no clue what Jan was yapping on about. Nik’s a sweetheart that way.
The Interview!
I started the interview with some soft questions, getting her warmed up for the down and dirty ones.
JQ: You and I’ve known each other for several years. Is there anything complimentary you’d like to say about me to your readers? Perhaps, I have nice knees?
NS: I’m so glad you asked, I have so much to say on this topic! You are so freaking good at breathing. You are incredibly here and fabulously alive. I really particularly love how you exist. I really can’t say enough about your lovely peopleness.
Jasmin’s bendy knees (stunt double used)
JQ: Gosh, I’m blushing. Right back at you, girlfriend. What about my knees?
NS: Ummm, your knees are super bendy?
JQ: Thank you. Mr. Quinn says that too. We have so much in common, don’t we? We’re both writers, we both drink copious amounts of wine, and also, neither of us skis. Do think it’s a coincidence or a cosmic intervention?
NS: I’ve cut back on the wine because weed is legal now and less damaging to my liver. And I think people who ski are batshit insane. What kind of a mentally responsible person straps slippery things to their feet and hurtles themselves down a slippery mountain? People in need of some serious intervention, that’s who.
JQ(noting that Nikita didn’t really answer my question about cosmic intervention. This writer has truly mastered the art of evasiveness): I understand you like to eat chicken wings. Are you at all dismayed at how your predilection contributes to the wingless chicken problem currently taking place in various parts of Kansas?
NS: No. Next question?
JQ (noting that Nikita seems a little of out of sorts. I’m concerned she’s heading for a melt down). Regarding calamari, it appears you’re an all-in kind of girl. I recall an incident where you were only able to eat the calamari that was disguised as regular food and left the rest of the squids on the plate.
I feel a little green as I watch her pick up a little calamari body by one of its legs and stuff the entire thing in her mouth.
I just can’t…
NS(after she chews and swallows – her manners are impeccable): I used to feel squeamish about eating the calamari legs and stuff, but since embarking on a career in writing many a bloody scene in my dark mafia romances, I eat those motherf@cking legs like a champ.
She insisted on adding the @ in fucking even though I told her she didn’t have to. She’s so wonderfully aware of other people’s sensitivities.
JS: I know there are some things that you find repelling, so I want to know how you’d react under extraordinary pressure. If you found an abandoned child eating bell peppers drenched in marshmallow syrup and there was no one around to rescue you, what would you do?
NS: I would get some big tongs and put her in a transporter and send her to Willy Wonka.
Happy Birthday Darling!
JQ: Speaking of birthdays, are you excited about turning 40 this year? Do you have any plans? Will this be the year I finally get invited to your birthday party?
NS: Ouch. This got personal fast.
JQ: It’s always personal, Nikita.
NS (staring at me as she tests the sharpness of the knife she’s holding): I plan on partying with a whole lot of legal marijuana, unlimited wine and nudity. Of course, you’re invited. I like BC weed best, so be sure to bring as much as you can carry.
JQ: I can’t help but think that you are only inviting me because I have access to the BC bud. I need to feel wanted too, Nikita.
NS: Can you also hit up some Kelowna wineries on the way here? I like Mission Hill and Quail’s Gate.
See what I mean about evasiveness?
JQ: Here’s another personal question. I’ve been told by my secret Nikita source that your face looks funny when you wear earrings. Can you describe what it looks like in hoops? What about studs? Is there a particular earring you’d consider wearing despite the effect it has on your face?
NS: Who told you this? Did you read my diary?
QS: A serious reporter never reveals her source. And no, I would never read your diary because it would involve a trip to Saskatoon, which I’ll admit is lovely in the summer except for the heat, mosquitoes, and Broscht.
Maybe it’s her taste in earrings?
NS (appearing defensive – you know, the whole crossing her arms across her chest, frowning sternly, wrinkling her forehead): Okay, yes, my face looks weird with earrings. All earrings. Hoops, studs, danglies. Maybe it’s because I’m not used to seeing them attached to my head. I no longer have holes in my ears. That’s a whole other traumatic story. But I would definitely consider wearing earrings if they were extremely expensive and gifted to me, and I could pawn them immediately after wearing.
JQ: Speaking of holes in your head, what happened to the one that your brother drilled into it when you were four?
NS: I have no memory of that. But I do remember cracking his head open when we were playing hide and go baseball bat in the dark. That was the fastest I’ve ever run away from something. He and I are probably even now.
JQ: Have you considered a nose ring?
NS: Yes.
JQ: Will you be getting a nose ring? Or a nipple ring?
NS: Oh, I want both now!
JQ: I find the earring thing fascinating. Are you also aware that when you wear shoes, they make your feet look funny?
NS: I did not realize this. In what way do they look weird? Like, cool weird? Or weird, weird?
Nikita’s boots
JQ: Depends. If you’re wearing hooker boots like the ones you currently have on, it’s definitely cool weird. But if you’re wearing little socks with matching canvas shoes, you appear to be wearing condoms on your feet. Either way, like the package on a hot guy, it’s hard to look away.
NS: I choose to be flattered.
JQ: You have brilliantly high self-esteem. Let’s talk about your tattoos. How many do you have? What are they? Which is your favourite? Which is the cherry popper? How old were you when you got it? What did you parents think about it?
Did someone say Cherry Popper?
NS: I have three tattoos, but I want more. One on my shoulder, one on my forearm and one on my lower back/hip. My favourite is the grim reaper with a rose on my forearm. My first tattoo was a baby lion on my shoulder, I think I was 20 or 21. I don’t think my mom cares much. My dad doesn’t like them, but he’s used to them now. My brother has way more than me and he started younger, so he set the bad example.
JQ: What are you thinking for the next one?
NS: I want to get a sugar skull bride on my shoulder that merges with the grim reaper. She’ll hold a bouquet of dead roses and she’ll wear a crown. Above the crown it’ll say “The Queens”.
JQ: It sounds… urm… painful. I should have asked this earlier, like around the time you insisted that I fly out for the interview. Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. Why?
NS: Once upon a time there was this incredibly talented, beautiful and naïve young woman of 26. She met and married a guy from University. That man decided he should get a job in the one of the coldest most prairie-like, barren places on Earth. The beautiful heroine followed her heart. Skip ahead thirteen years and the incredibly talented, wonderful young woman is now a beautiful divorcee who asks herself every single day between the months of October and May WHY THE F@CK she doesn’t move someplace warmer. The end. (Did I mention how beautiful the heroine of this story is?)
Saskatoon in the Winter. Ugh.
JQ: Yes, you did mention the heroine’s beauty, but are you going to answer my question?
NS: Uhm. See above.
JQ: Let’s move on. You have an obsession with jealous possessive males in the books you write. What traumatic experience do you blame this on? Which one do you love the most? Least love?
NS: I’m not sure why I’m attracted to a certain kind of male character. I’m definitely not attracted to jealous possessive in real life. I love Reyes from Scarred Queen the most. He was just so extreme and brutal but lived for Casey. He’s also a little atypical from my usual male characters. He’s Bolivian, he’s shorter than my other men but no less fierce. I don’t think I have a least love since they’re all pretty awesome. But if I had to choose, I would probably say Mack from In His Sights. That guy was pure mean with very little sense of humour (which only made him hotter!)
JQ: Two of my favourite books of yours areIn His Sights and Fear in Her Eyes. I very much loved Mack and Daniel. Could I have them both please?
NS: Ummm, yes, but only because I’m now moving onto Mateo in Born a Queen.
JQ: Thank you so much. I’ll make space in my closet when I get home, then send for them. Next question. You recently released Loving Vincent. Is it autobiographical? Are you secretly a prison nurse?
NS (laughing her ass off, though I’m not sure why. I check my teeth for parsley): No, although I worked as a GED instructor and a counsellor in a prison. The stories I could tell about prison life would make your hair stand on end.
JQ(trying to touch Nikita’s hair): Like yours is doing right now. Ouch (no, not shocked. she bit me!)!
NS: Sorry, thought you were a spider.
JQ: If Loving Vincent isn’t autobiographical, then is Scarred Queen a fictionalized version of your life? Is Casey your secret twin? Who is Reyes modelled after?
NS: Scarred Queen is not a fictionalized version of my life and Casey is not my twin. Scarred Queen is my re-imagining of what might’ve happened to Elvira Montana’s character after the events of the movie Scarface. Reyes was sort of a combo of Tony Montana and Sotza from Scarface.
JQ: Which book(s) that you’ve written to date is your favourite and why?
NS: I think my absolute favourite book is Scarred Queen. I wrote it at a very tough time in my life and it was extremely cathartic. When I think about that time in my life, I think about how Scarred Queen was such a lifesaver for me. Among my other favourites are all three Sanctuary books, Burning Beautyand Savage Vendetta. I don’t think there’s a particular reason why I love those books, I just have warm feelings when I think about them.
JQ: Tell me more about these warm feelings. Are they also wet? Where in your body are they most apparent?
NS: (staring at me and allowing an uncomfortable silence to develop, but I don’t really get uncomfortable, so it was a 15-minute silent standoff that only broke when I forgot the question I asked)
JQ: What are you currently working on? When will you unveil it to the world? What else should we know about.
NS: I’m currently working on a few different projects. I’m editing The Princess and Her Mercenary, a Driven Hearts Novella starring Ndari and Keane from Capturing Victory. This book will release on March 28, 2020 and is up for pre-order. I’m also working on a vampire charity novella for the NOLA Bookstars signing in May. That one is almost done; it’s quick, bloody and sexy. And finally, I’m working on my next big release, Born a Queen. I don’t have a release date for this one.
JQ: All of us Nikita fans are so looking forward to the release of these books. Let’s switch to something more controversial. I heard that you’ve become a pole-dancer. Are you in it for the money? Do you plan to be certified in it and go pro? Do you like it better than stripping and hooking?
Nikita’s pose. Not unsexy.
NS: First of all, I have never stripped and hooked. Except for that one time, but we don’t talk about that. Honestly? I love the feeling of flying when my feet come off the ground and I’m spinning around the pole. I love seeing what my body can do. I’m not very young and I’m not particularly small or flexible, but week-by-week I’ve been building muscle tone and flexibility. Sometimes it’s frustrating when I can’t do something I badly want to do, like flip upside down when I’m spinning, but there’s nothing like nailing a move I’ve been working on for months. When I first started pole-dancing I couldn’t imagine doing the things I do now. I can climb that pole like a spider monkey and strike a (deeply unsexy) pose. I will probably go pro if the book thing doesn’t turn out.
JQ: Uh huh. So you deny that you slept with a man in exchange for money? And maybe not a stripper, but I’ve heard you give one hell of a lap dance.
NS: How did you know I slept with a stripper for money? The things you know about me… it’s creepy.
JQ: So’s my secret source, but he gets the job done. Next question. What do you find attractive in a man?
NS: His brain. Literally. I’m probably actually a zombie.
Zombiefied Nik
JQ: Can you please elaborate on this. Do you find brain’s attractive or tasty? If attractive, explain. All the men in your novels are tall, built like brick shithouses and menacing. Are you telling me that the only thing about them that gets your jellybean quivering is their brains?
NS: In reality, I do tend to be more attracted to brains than bodies. My man-friends have all been a wide variety of sizes, shapes and heights. I’m attracted to people who are kind, open-minded and treat me like the princess I am. Fantasy is different though, and that’s where I love building my “brick shithouse” men.
JQ: Do you think you’ve insulted all your man friends by saying they are unattractive?
NS: Umm, did I say that? Or did you?
JQ: How could I say it? I don’t know all your man friends; there’s way too many. Also, if you find brains tasty, how do you prepare them?
Nope. Never seen it.
NS: Have you seen iZombie? I get my recipes from that show. I would say brain smoothies are probably my favourite, although brain pizzas are pretty epic too.
JQ: Is Hannibal Lecter your father?
NS: No, he was my mentor.
JQ: What’s the biggest difference between Canadians and Americans (note – not Canada and America)?
NS: I would say Americans can be more straightforward. Canadians tend to keep their assholiness on the inside. We pretend we’re all nice and polite, but really, we’re complete dicks. If I get pitchforked by one or both nationalities mentioned, I blame you.
JQ: I’m a big girl, I can take a little pitchforking, but not in the face please. Preferably the ass. It has the most resistance to pitchforks. My next question is a little more personal. I’ve been told by a secret source that you hate Chinese 5 Spice. Is it because you don’t like their brand of music?
Not Chinese 5 Spice
NS: Give me my diary back! And Chinese 5 spice is a spice for seasoning food, not a 90s UK girl band. The reason I don’t like it is because in my early 20s, I had this boyfriend who was obsessed with that stuff. It was in all our food. Now I can’t even smell it without gagging. Luckily, most people don’t use it so I can easily avoid it.
JQ (wryly, but Nikita seems not to notice): Perhaps Chinese people use it.
NS (changing the topic): These calamari are so f@cking good!
JQ(also changing the topic): Would you sleep with an alien who looked like an alien (providing you had a hall pass)? If you did, what physical alien trait would get you the most fired up? If it’s alien penis, what makes it different from human penis?
NS: Tentacles. I don’t know if those are technically penises, but those are what I like. I heard DD Prince is totally into them too. I try to keep my tentacle obsession on the down low. Ha! Down low. Get it?
JQ: Oh yeah, I got it, you dirty girl. So you and DD Prince bonded over alien dick? I’m a little jealous.
NS: So you should be.
JQ(sighing and jealous): Describe your ideal penis.
NS: I have a dream where I’m tied to a bed and penises are jumping all around me. Big penis, small penis, here and there a penis, everywhere a penis. They rub all over my body and in my hair. Did I answer the question?
JQ: Wow, are you currently seeking professional help? Do they… you know… do they do the hokey pokey? Do they shake it all about?
NS: Yes! That’s what it’s all about! Also, yes, I do have a therapist, but she’s small, hairy, sleeps a lot and doesn’t say much. She’s also my dog.
JQ: Speaking of dogs, what do you fear?
NS: Tiny dots, spiders, crusty things, cardboard scraping against cardboard (like when you fold a box – yuck!) and flying.
Jasmin’s box collection. Seriously.
JQ: I don’t know how we can continue to be friends. I collect boxes. Could you please elaborate on what you mean by crusty things. Are you referring to men’s underwear after several days of use or the stuff you get in the corners of your eyes after you’ve been sleeping (BTW, spiders love the taste of that fluid and will suck it up while you’re sleeping) or the hard cover of snow in the winter that you think you can walk across but then it breaks and you sink into it up to your pearl of pleasure?
NS: Wow, I hadn’t thought about many of these crusty things you brought up, but yeah, I also don’t like those things. What I mostly mean by crusty things are like dirty showers (shudders dramatically). Or the bottom of a sink that gets all that crud in it and then doesn’t get washed out, so it dries on and becomes all crusty. I’m super grossed out right now thinking about this stuff.
JQ: I momentarily forgot my name. It might be your mention of dirty showers. I’m going to explain to the readers that Nikita Slater is not referencing a kinky sex act, but the actual physical shower that is unwashed. Is that correct?
NS: Oh, yes, that’s what I meant.
QS: Are you winking at me? Rhetorical, you don’t have to answer. But here are some quick questions you do have to answer. Please feel free to provide quick answers:
Friday, the unknown breed.
QS: What is your secret superpower?
NS: I can tell a dog’s breed just by looking at it.
QS: That’s awesome. What breed is your dog, Friday?
NS: I have no idea.
JQ: I’m starting to understand why it’s a secret superpower. What’s the difference between making love and fucking?
NS: Making love is about connection, fucking is about getting off.
JQ: If animals could talk, which would be the rudest? Explain.
NS: Parrots. They can already talk and they’re usually complete assholes. I was once bitten by a parrot that called me Shakira. It was weird.
JQ: I’ve met that parrot. You should be flattered; he called me a weed whacker. Peanut butter, maple syrup or Nutella in your belly button?
NS: Nothing in my belly button! Seriously, what is wrong with you!?
JQ: It’s a perfectly legitimate question. Belly buttons are erogenous zones… aren’t they? What are you most likely to get arrested for?
NS: Public nudity.
JQ: Hopefully it’s summer when that happens or you’ll freeze all your girl bits. Famous man you’d like to see naked?
NS: Jason Momoa.
JQ: I seriously tried to find a nude of him. I think he might be a saint. What will it say on your tombstone?
NS: Death by cupcakes.
Jan with three of my favourite things: jam, peanut butter and a sexy cowboy.
JQ: No doubt about that. Thank you Nikita Slater for indulging me today. I’d like to stay and chat, but Jan Arden looks like she wants to body slam me, and I’m a pacifist. Not really, but I’m delicate and prone to screaming. Anything you’d like to add before I get the hell out of Saskatchewan?
NS: Take me with you.
*Disclaimer: Saskatoon, Saskatchewan is a beautiful city surrounded by vast prairies and the occasional tree. It has winding rivers separating the downtown core from the rest of the population. Also, it’s a frozen wasteland in winter and I’ve twice made the mistake of visiting during this season (once was work-related so that doesn’t really count). Thus, while the interview is real, the meeting place was not. And Jan Arden, she was never there (she made me say that).
Nikita Slater is the International Bestselling author of The Queens series, Fire & Vice series, The Sanctuary series, Driven Hearts series and several standalone novels. She lives on the beautiful Canadian prairies with her son and her crazy awesome dog.
She has an unholy affinity for books (especially erotic romance), wine, pets and anything chocolate. Despite some of the darker themes in her books (which are pure fun and fantasy), Nikita is a staunch feminist and advocate of equal rights for all races, genders and non-gender specific persons. When she isn’t writing, dreaming about writing or talking about writing, she helps others discover a love of reading and writing through literacy and social work.
For more information on Nik’s upcoming book releases, giveaways, works in progress and her insane cupcake addiction check out her Facebook page and join her private Facebook group, Nikita’s Underworld: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1853193748048614/
You can also keep up with her by joining or following her social media profiles.
In April, I’ll be posting my interview with the lovely and talented Bijou Hunter who is an author of Romantic Comedy and Suspense. Living in Indiana with her three sweet sons, three wacky cats, one super mom, she loves 1970s rock, Call of Duty, Phelan Porteous, and sitcoms canceled before their time.
Thanks Sheri!
I was introduced to Bijou’s writing by my proofreader, Sheri, to whom I’ll be forever grateful. Bijou is a binge-worthy writer of the MC romance genre, but her books are unlike any you’ve ever read. She’s also a one-click for me. She hates ass-kissers, so I’ll stop now although inside I’m still gushing.
At the end of May, Mr. Master (Running with the Devil Book 11) will be published. It’s not for the faint of heart as Jackman shows his true colours, and even though I created him, I also dig him… a lot. Seriously, I want a 3-D printer so I can bring him to life.
Late June, Unleashed will be unleashed! See what I did there? (Yeah, I’m out of cleverness). This full-length book has been a labour of love that I’ve been working on in my spare time for well over a year and I’m excited to see what readers think of it.
A few last words
I tried to find an alien sex joke on Google to pair up with Nik’s and my chat about alien tentacles, but there seems to be only one silly joke in cyberspace, so Mr. Quinn kindly made one up:
A female, being tortured by an alien, was loudly groaning and moaning.
The Alien’s general walks into the room. “Why are you still torturing the human woman?”
The torturer replies, “Because the last one was faking it.”
Hmmm. It sounded funnier when he said it.
Moving along, I want to end this blog by acknowledging the health care front line professionals who are working to ensure patient health and comfort, no matter the illness. We don’t say thank you often enough.
Dear Lovers of each other and also of me, and also of Annabel Joseph!
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Mr. Quinn and I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day. We don’t have to. Everyday is Valentine’s Day with us (not really – we lack the gene that makes us romantic, which oddly, also makes us romantically compatible).
How can a romance author lack the romance gene, you ask? Have you read my books? My boys speak in grunts and prefer to say it with action and lots of tongue. And my girls, well, they love my boys. I have been trying to make my male heroes more emotionally available, so this year, I set several goals to improve my skills in the romance department.
Goal 1. Work on being more emotionally expressive. If Mr. Spock and Don Draper had a baby, it would be me. But unlike my two fictional dads, I’m willing to try to change.
Goal 2: Show my sensitive side. Ask for directions more often, let Mr. Quinn carry my suitcase, and make myself weep (without eyedrops) when I’m writing love scenes.
Goal 3. Interview other romance authors who write swoon-worthy material.
Speaking of other authors, the following are my criteria for choosing authors for my interviews:
I only interview authors who I’ve read and loved. And their books – I love their books too.
I only interview authors who have agreed to be interviewed. I know some of you are thinking I’m faking these interviews but know this, I don’t fake orgasms or interviews. Yes, I make shit up all the time, but not this shit. These are real authors with real answers.
I only interview authors who have no moral compass (see, now I’m making shit up). Annabel Joseph, for example, is practically a saint (if you discount the books she writes). She is against injustice, cruelty, and flashy, rude drivers. She also crusades against linerless trash cans and the inconsiderate people who use them.
4. Read a mènage book. Which I did! I read a great ménage et quatre between one woman and three men. Okay, it’s not the first mènage book I’ve read, and also, has nothing to do with me becoming more romantic, but I needed a clever segue.
As you are aware, I never lie (except when I do lie), but this is NOT a lie. A Quartet of Pleasures is the best ménage book I’ve ever read. Why, you ask? Or maybe you didn’t ask, but others did. Okay others also didn’t. Just me. I asked.
Where was I?
Oh yes! Guess who writes a great ménage et quatre with three men and woman with no sex between the men? Annabel Joseph and her recently published book, A Quartet of Pleasures!
A Quartet of Pleasures resonated with me (is that a pun?). It was cleverly done, in a series of 4 related shorts and the crescendo (also a pun or maybe a metaphor, maybe both because aren’t puns metaphors?) was excellent because the reader gets to know the female and her three partners individually before it becomes a hot, hot foursome. The men themselves are also into different BDSM things, which makes the final novella so fucking hot.
Is this not the best segue you’ve ever read?
Speaking of Annabel Joseph, I was delighted when she agreed to do an interview with me.
Annabel Joseph
Who is this woman and why am I so fascinated with her?
Annabel Joseph is a NYT and USA Today bestselling BDSM erotic romance author. She writes mainly contemporary romance, although she has been known to dabble in the medieval and Regency eras. Her characters all have one thing in common, they are “into” BDSM and they have lives that are richer, fuller, and more complex because of it.
If you are interested in sensual power exchange and the dramatic emotion of BDSM relationships, you will find the novels of Annabel Joseph both titillating and satisfying in a completely original way.
Annabel also writes non-BDSM erotic romance under the pen name Molly Joseph, which by the way, is much easier to spell.
I virtually (as opposed to literally) dropped by Atlanta, Georgia for the interview. I have never been, but always imagine living in Georgia and am constantly looking at real estate listings so I can buy a pretty house and eat peaches (truly, Georgia fascinates me).
Fun facts about Atlanta:
Atlanta, Georgia is the birth place of Coca Cola, where it was invented by Confederate Colonel John Pemberton. He marketed it as “Coca-Cola: the temperance drink”. Ironic, since Coke is now paired with a number of alcoholic beverages.
Atlanta is Georgia’s fifth capital. Savannah, Augusta, Louisville, and Milledgeville boasted the title earlier.
It was once illegal to put an ice cream cone in your back pocket in Atlanta. This law is no longer on the books, fortunately for me because that’s always what I do with my ice cream cone, unless of course I don’t have any back pockets. Then I have to find someone who does.
Atlanta also outlawed tying a giraffe to a telephone pole, which made me wish for a giraffe, but Mr. Quinn said no.
Margaret Mitchell of Atlanta Georgia, and author of Gone with the Wind, collected erotica from book shops in New York City while in her twenties. She and her husband were interested in ‘all forms of sexual expression’.
Speaking of writers with unique interests in forms of sexual expression, let’s get on with my interview of Annabel Joseph.
Not AJ, but could be don’t you think?
Ms. Joseph is a dazzling redhead and on the day of the interview, her long hair was twisted into an envious messy bun. She was wearing Netherland clomps on her feet, which peeked out from under her lace-edged petticoat, which peeked out from under her regency seafoam dress. She appeared fresh-faced and eager to talk with me over bottles of water and a fried zucchini picnic on a bench in Constitution Lakes Park.
The weather was balmy, and I was barely put off by the muddied heads and limbs of dolls scattered around the park.
I offered Ms. Joseph a sip from my flask of whiskey, but she politely refused, citing her disinclination for alcohol.
JQ: Good Afternoon, Ms. Joseph. May I call you AJ?
AJ: I’d prefer if you didn’t.
JQ: Annabel it is. You are a romance author and an excellent writer (seriously excellent writer).
AJ: Is that a question?
JQ: Yes, it is.
AJ: Then yes to both.
JQ: I’m surprised you don’t drink.
AJ: That’s what we’re starting with?
JQ: Yes. You’re like a bonny woodland creature, flitting about, writing hard core BDSM stuff and yet the other side of you abstains from alcohol, likes sitting in parks, and wears petticoats. If you don’t drink, how do you handle life’s stresses?
Annabel being a blue butterfly (photo courtesy of Annabel)
AJ: I think the brand name is Pristiq. But I do drink sometimes, I just don’t like being drunk and being around drunk people. I probably only drink a couple times a year. My fave drinks are things like White Russians or Mudslides, or Kahlua and milk. Something milky and sweet.
JQ(trying my best to appear sober): What kind of romances do you write?
AJ: I write in three different genres…contemporary BDSM romance, historical spanking romance, and vanilla romance.
JQ: What exactly are vanilla books? Why write vanilla? Is it related to cake?
AJ: Vanilla is not related to cake. I wish! Vanilla just means there’s no kinky stuff. Sometimes I come up with a story that doesn’t fit with any BDSM dynamic, so that becomes a vanilla title by Molly Joseph instead of Annabel Joseph. But, you know, even my vanilla books have tons of sex and sometimes anal. If I wrote it, I at least TRIED to put anal in it.
JQ: If your vanilla books are vanilla, what flavours are your contemporary BDSM and historical spanking romances? Are they the both the same flavour or two different ones?
AJ: Contemporary BDSM is rocky road and historical spanking is butter pecan.
JQ: You’re speaking my favourite language – ice cream! Based on your description, most of my books are vanilla because they are not explicitly BDSM related. In fact, compared to yours, mine barely qualify as a layer cake.
AJ: Any kind of cake is good cake.
JQ: Even fruit cake?
AJ:
JQ: Which of your vanilla books would you recommend?
AJ: Well, I only have four vanilla books, and three of them are bodyguard books. They’re still sexy, they just don’t have BDSM because I didn’t want to muddy up the super-horny bodyguard dynamic with a separate BDSM dynamic. If you like bodyguards, you should read Pawn or Diva!
JQ: I am in process of reading Pawn and very much enjoying it. The sophistication of your writing leaves me to believe you are a genius, perhaps up there with Stephen Hawking, Sheldon Cooper, and Stewie Griffin. Tell me about your newest release.
AJ: I have just released A Quartet of Pleasures (on January 20), which is my first foray into both short novellas and ménage. It’s four related shorts about a woman in a string quartet who sleeps with her three co-musicians in separate trysts, and then all together.
JQ: What’s next for Annabel Joseph?
AJ: The next thing I’m writing is the second book in my Properly Spanked Legacy series. I often switch back and forth between contemporary and historical to keep things exciting, lol
JQ: Tell me about yourself. Who is Annabel Joseph and what makes her tick?
AJ: I’ve been married to my awesome and wonderful husband for twenty years. On social media, I refer to him as Ivan, but that’s not his real name, lol. We have a lot of fun together although we are so extremely different (dominant and submissive, for one.) We have four teenage kids together, three girls and one boy.
JQ: Why did you become a writer?
AJ: I was reading a lot of erotica & BDSM books, and they were hot, but none of them scratched my exact itch. When you write the books yourself, you can put all your favorite kinks into them. It’s also a nice, flexible career for someone with kids.
JQ: What do you find attractive in a man?
AJ: There are so many things, but a guy doesn’t have to be all of them. I like guys who are an interesting combination of things. Like, a really sporty guy who also likes to knit pouches for orphaned animals, or a really clean-cut accountant type who’s secretly nasty in bed. Any guy who is interesting, curious, kind, strong (and there are many kinds of strength) is hot to me.
BUT if we’re talking about romance/fantasy guys, then it’s muscles, height, huge presence, huge cocks, asshole personalities, and a secret tender side.
JQ: Me too. All of the above. Your interview will go live on February 14th, which is Valentine’s day. Is there anything you would like to say about this particular day? How likely are you to give it a 5-star rating?
AJ: I do enjoy Valentine’s Day. It’s love and hearts, two things I really like. I give it five stars, especially if I receive chocolate.
Ivan & Annabel in love
JQ: On Valentine’s Day, will you celebrate with a white Russian? Will he speak any English? Will he have to?
AJ: I see what you did there! I’ll be celebrating with my husband, Ivan. Does that count?
JQ: Yes, it does. Ivan appears to be Russian based on his mug shot.
AJ:
JQ: You’re a self-described beautiful Alto 1. Are you at all dismayed by the fact that altos are always the evil one in every musical or opera?
AJ: That is NOT true! You’re just trying to get a rise out of me. As we say in my chorus, “Alto 1 is alto fun.”
JQ: According to Google, both Amy Winehouse and Cher are altos. Can you explain how that can happen when they don’t even live in the same country (and one of them is also deceased) plus they don’t sound at all alike.
AJ: I think a person’s level of alto-ness can be affected by how much they smoke and also how much they do drugs. Also, both of them are actually contraltos so this is just you baiting me again.
JQ: Perhaps that’s where the confusion lies. According to my friend, Google, a common saying among contraltos is that they may play only “witches, bitches, or britches.”
AJ: Thank God I’m not a contralto, they’re clearly trash.
JQ (nodding in agreement): What’s something that you don’t want people to know about you?
AJ: So many things, which I shall not enumerate here.
JQ: Do you often use evasion to deflect?
AJ: I am the queen of evasion, yes.
JQ: I’m a big fan of your videos and have watched at least one. You seem to prefer the term cock over dick. Can you explain why this is the case.
AJ: Wow, at least one? That’s great, Jasmin. The truth is, I prefer the word dick over cock, but when I wrote for Ellora’s Cave (now out of business) they told their authors the word dick could only be used when we were writing from the male’s POV, because a woman wouldn’t realistically use the word dick, or think it. Isn’t that stupid? I think cock is the preferred, sexier word but I still like to say dick. Dick, dick, dick.
JQ: We have so much in common. I love dick too. But I do tend to only use it with the male POV, although I don’t think real-life females use the term cock either. In mixed company, I refer to the dick as a penis, junk, member, family jewels, staff of love and other pleasant euphemisms. In genteel company, I will address the blazing staff of love as an arbor vitae, which is high falutin’ for baby maker. And for Mr. Quinn, it is The Ambassador.
AJ: Don’t ambassadors have full diplomatic immunity, so they can commit any crime they like without repercussion? Geez, what do the two of you get up to in the bedroom? Sounds like an Annabel Joseph story idea.
JQ: You could title it The Ambassador’s Ambassador. I understand you have three small dogs. You say you like them because you can pick them up when they’re misbehaving, but really, isn’t it because the size of their poop is small?
AJ: They poop in the woods behind our house, so I never have to worry about that. I think my favorite thing about owning small dogs is that you can cuddle them like little babies. We had greyhounds when we were newly married, and you can’t hold them like babies as easily.
JQ: That leads to a philosophical query. If a dog poops in the woods and there’s no one around to see it, did the dog really poop?
AJ: No, of course not.
JQ: What are your dogs’ names? You say you pick them up when they’re naughty. What constitutes naughty? What do you do once you’ve picked them up? Do you shake them? Put them in a doggy time out. Tell them they’re bad and then kiss them on the lips while you’re holding your breath?
Annabel holding doggo like a baby (courtesy of AJ)
AJ: The Japanese Chin is named Cookie. God bless him, he’s blind as a bat. Walter and Harvey are terrier mutts, and the reason I usually have to pick them up is because they’re fighting with each other or fighting with Cookie because he stumbled into them by accident. I don’t shake them, I talk to them. I say stuff like, “Can’t we all be friends?” or “Be nice to your brother!” or “How can you beat up a blind dog?” Which is pointless because they don’t understand what I’m saying. But it makes me feel better.
JQ: So basically, you doggy-shame them. Speaking of loved ones, let’s talk about your children. I understand you have four children. I would ask why, but that often elicits defensiveness, so we’ll just go with the temporary insanity excuse (four times!). Instead, tell me, which of your four children is your favourite? Least favourite? If you love them all equally, which one will be most likely to look after you when you lose your mental faculties and why isn’t that child your favourite?
AJ: Hmm, let me pick a fave… No, it’s like they say. You love them equally but differently, which is kind of necessary because they’re all so insanely different. I’m pretty sure my oldest will look after me when I lose my mental faculties because she’s the only one of the four who remotely has her shit together. But she can’t be my favorite because she picked a really expensive college to attend. (sobs)
JQ: It’s a sad truth that society expects parents to be impartial to their offspring. I rotate my favourites every couple of months, although I don’t tell them. My daughter would be devastated to learn she’s my favourite only four months out of the year, although one year, she got six months, but only because one of my sons was dating a future serial killer.
AJ: Well, he shouldn’t have done that. Also, in the US we spell favourite like this: favorite. Fascinating!
JQ: And yet, we get along so well. Tell me more about Ivan. How did you meet? What attracted you to him? Is he your muse for your male characters?
AJ: I met Ivan in an Irish bar called Scruffy Murphy’s. Ours was a long and tumultuous flirtation before we finally hooked up, but it’s always been a classic opposites-attract love story with us. He is a very plainspoken, stable person and I’m very complicated and scattered, so we complete each other and all that. He brings the security and I bring the chaos. He brings the dominance and I bring the submission, at some times more than others, lol. Ivan has inspired many things in my books for sure.
JQ: Will you do something romantic on Valentine’s Day? (Mr. Quinn and I plan to order pizza and then eat it).
AJ: He usually brings me flowers and chocolate, and I give him romantic socks. Then we grant each other sexual favors very quietly so the kids don’t hear.
JQ: I think I love you both very much. Also, your dogs and I’m partial to your older daughter (despite her predilection for expensive colleges).
JQ: What genres do you enjoy reading? Do you have favourite authors outside the romance and erotica genres?
AJ: My favorite genre is artsy, fartsy literary books. I love really long, complicated books with really affecting endings. I also love romance and historical romance, of course. I think my favorite author outside romance/erotica is Kate Morton with her historical mystery books. The most recent book I read was A Reliable Wife by Robert Goolrick, and it was super fucked up and angsty and beautifully written.
JQ: Your historical romances were the catalyst for my return to historical romance books, although recently I’ve become hooked on Fishdom and have no time to read. I used to like artsy, fartsy literary books and long books. Now my preference is short and to the point. It may be due to my addiction to Fishdom.
AJ: I don’t know what Fishdom is. As a BDSM author, it makes me think about a Fish Dom, and, as we say in the South, that doesn’t sit well with me.
JQ: It also doesn’t sit well with Mr. Quinn. Fishdom is a soon-to-be-deleted game on my tablet. Speaking of undersea creatures, talk to me about your hermit crabs. How long did you have them? How many did you have? Did they live in a cage or were they free run? What were their names? Did they live to be 20 years old?
AJ: The hermit crabs were a birthday present for one of my daughters. She named them Nibbles, Gibbles, and Pebbles, and lost interest in them the first day, because they are incredibly boring pets. But I like weird things, and I appreciated them for their gangly, spider like appearance, so I threw myself into the hermit crab life, got them a big, luxury, sand-filled habitat and everything. When you look at them closely, they are fascinating and so detailed.
They switch shells now and again to keep life interesting, and also make very soft noises if you know what to listen for. Not only that, but every year or so, they bury themselves in the sand to molt. They just stay buried under there for WEEKS until they emerge one day like, SURPRISE! I’M NOT DEAD! I JUST SHED MY EXOSKELETON AND NOW I’M BIGGER! They also love to climb, if you set up little jungle gyms for them in their habitats, or little obstacles courses that you change around from time to time.
JQ: My dog, Piper, did that – not the molting, but the obstacle course and climbing.
Not the real Nibbles & Gibbles
AJ: Aww, now I miss my crabs. Nibbles and Gibbles were a bonded pair and lived almost eight years together. Pebbles died quite young. I miss them. I might get more hermies one day, but Nibbles and Gibbles would be a hard act to follow.
JQ: Now I want hermit crabs and also, oddly, I feel emotional. Fortunately, Mr. Quinn will refuse to let me have them and while I’ll stay mad at him, I will also secretly be relieved. Moving off the sensitive topic of crabs, I understand you went to high school. Do people get jealous when they find out? You’ve also said that you attended three different ones. What did you do to get kicked out of the first two?
AJ: Going to high school was great! And I wasn’t kicked out of any of them. Are you kidding? They begged me to stay. Who wouldn’t want Annabel Joseph as an alumni?
JQ: You make a good point. I wish you were my alumni. Talk to me about your new release, A Quartet of Pleasures. You’ve described it as four related shorts about a woman in a string quartet who sleeps with her three co-musicians in separate trysts, and then all together. Where did you come up with the idea? Is it related to your Alto 1 skills? Is it based on your real life?
AJ: Basically, I really like the arts, and I like the idea of one lucky woman fielding lots of handsome cocks, so a quartet seemed like a good way to get them together. An entire orchestra would have been too much!
JQ: Speaking from experience, you are absolutely right about the orchestra. I loved A Quartet of Pleasures (I may have already mentioned that). And the spanking regency romances and the legacy books. They are all on my go-to list when I need a good lusty read. I have yet to read the rest of your catalogue, but I intend to do so. Except for Mephisto, which I read. I want to read the other two books in the series, but I’m afraid to. You definitely put the hard in hard core and caused me to think thoughtfully, neither of which I like to do.
By the way, did you know that Mephisto is a supervillain in the Marvel Comics universe, which is ironic given that you don’t like superhero movies or maybe you don’t like the superheroes but you’re good with the supervillains?
AJ: I didn’t know that about Mephisto! I named him after the actual devil, Mephistopheles. Also, the other two books in the Mephisto series are actually less scary than the first one, so don’t be afraid. I mean, they’re still kind of scary but…
JQ: If you could have your own string quartet, comprising you and three others, which of your male characters would be in it and why? What instrument would you play? What instruments would they play?
AJ: I think I’d be on second violin like Ruby in my story. First violin is Milo from Dangerous Control, obviously. Viola players are famously weird, so I’ll put W from the Rough Love books in there, because he’s crazy as fuck. Cello player would be August from My Naughty Minette because he’s angsty and musically talented. Then we’d need some roadies for the away concerts…Jeremy, Theo, the Duke of Arlington…
Read them all! I insist!
JQ: Nice choices, particularly August. I also like your idea of roadies.
AJ: Angsty August.
JQ:My Naughty Minette was my favourite among the four, which means nothing, since I loved them all.
JQ: You’ve been writing for 10 years. What an amazing accomplishment. Over those 10 years, what are some hard truths you’ve learned? How have you grown as a writer? Is there something you’d do differently at the beginning now that you’re wiser?
AJ: One hard truth is that writer’s block is real, that inspiration isn’t always there when you need it. As for growing as a writer, you really do get better as you write, just from the experience, and from reading suggestions given by your editors. Some of my early stuff is so cringy to me now. Not the characters or storylines, just the execution, because I was inexperienced. I accept that my backlist is representative of my “ripening” as an author. Just like a juicy peach.
JQ: How very Georgian of you. How often do you publish?
AJ: When I started, it was four full-length books a year, sometimes a couple novellas on top of that. I can’t do that anymore, because I want to avoid burn out, lol. Now if I get two books out, and maybe an anthology appearance, I’m happy.
JQ: I’m about to get uncharacteristically gushy. If you have a medical condition that is exacerbated by gushiness or if you are allergic, please step back. I’m not really a historical romance kind of girl, but your historical spanking romances scratch my exact itch. Questions for you that I asked myself while I was reading.
JQ: Do the women not wear underwear?
AJ: Like panties? During that time, no, they did not. Panties were considered scandalous.
JQ: Do the men?
AJ: Not usually, but they had very long shirt tails that they used to tuck and cover.
JQ: Do the men bathe in front of the female help?
AJ: The finest men had (male) valets to assist them in bathing and shaving. The maids were just scurrying back and forth bringing water and stuff. Maybe they took a peek.
JQ: The ginger has made me curious. Was that really a historical practice? Is it a current thing?
AJ: Yes, it was a historical practice, because they were kinky as fuck back then. And yes, it is also a current thing. It’s called figging. Google it!
JQ: Oh, I googled it. Oh, oh dear. I’m such an innocent.
Things to do with ginger
JQ: The descriptions related to the time period seem incredibly accurate, though I have no experience with the time period other than some poems and a dry history book I never read. Are the descriptions real or are you making shit up? Or is it half and half? What half does the ginger fall into?
AJ: Haha. They definitely used ginger up the arse to increase the ouchiness of spankings or birchings. As for the time period accuracy, I do a lot of research and read a lot of books set in that era, but I’m sure I get some things wrong here and there. I try my best.
JQ: Are you a scholar of that time period?
Annabel’s shelf of taxable deductions!
AJ: Only insofar as I have a whole shelf of books about the Regency and Victorian eras. I deducted the cost of them on my taxes. Business expense!
JQ: You are a genius! You said you’re planning to release another legacy historical spanking romance next. What’s it about? Do you have a title for it? And most importantly, when can I expect to read it?
AJ: The next book is about Lord Townsend, who stormed off in the previous book after his (former) best friend Lord Wescott stole the woman of his dreams. Now Townsey is back and better than ever, trying to get some revenge that ends up blowing up in his face. I don’t have a title yet. I know there will be spanking, though, lots of spanking.
JQ: Do you read reviews of your books? What do your reviewers get the crankiest about? How do you keep their voices out of your head when you’re writing?
AJ: The biggest criticism I get in reviews is that my kink level or heat level was not compatible with that reader. Maybe they didn’t like deep slavery, or breeding fetish, or chastity. I don’t look at reviews much anymore. I’m more likely to chat with my established readers to see what they like or dislike, since they’re my target. But I do appreciate reviews, both good and bad, because they can help the right readers find my books.
JQ: Nicely said. Let’s pretend that you’ve been asked to write a book called 50 Shades of Green. What will you name the main characters and what will it be about?
AJ: There’s Chartreuse and Hunter, the main heroine/hero, then her best friend Verditee and Hunter’s best bud Sage. In between kinky shit with green Jello and Jolly Green Giant roleplay, they advocate for environmental awareness. The climactic chapter is called Go Green and Suck My Peen!
JQ: I love it! What will you title it?
AJ: Fifty Shades of Green. That’s it. That’s the title.
JQ(confirming once and for all that there are stupid questions): I suffer from memory loss. Perhaps I should ease back on the drink. Let’s change the subject. Tell me about one of your childhood dreams that has been crushed by reality.
AJ: Definitely too old to dance with the New York City Ballet at this point.
JQ: Are you too old, but extremely talented? Or was your lack of talent a dream crusher as well?
AJ: I have zero ballet talent. Less than zero. Negative twenty ballet talent. I have super short legs.
JQ: I’m sorry to hear about your legs.
Quick questions:
JQ: Garden gnomes – eye-pleasing or scourge of the art world? Explain
AJ: Scourge of the world. I won’t say art world because they’re not art. They’re trash.
Garden Gnome Massacre
JQ (writing note to self about getting rid of Mr. Quinn’s garden gnome Halloween costume): What’s your preferred murder weapon?
AJ: Icicles, because once you stab somebody with one, the ice melts and there’s no evidence. Clean getaway.
JQ: What will you most likely to get arrested for? Explain
AJ: Ogling barely legal lifeguards. I refuse to explain.
Brilliant cover courtesy of AJ
JQ: No explanation necessary. What should I title your unauthorized biography?
AJ: If She Wrote It, She At Least Tried To Put Anal In It. It’s pretty self explanatory. Do you know some of my readers nicknamed me Anal-bel?
JQ: I didn’t know that, but it certainly makes sense. Penguins or Kangaroos – which is most likely to win an arm-wrestling contest? Why?
AJ: I feel like this is a trick question. I like both those animals so let’s just say they’d both “win” in their own way.
JQ: hmmm. Another evasive answer and also a little sweet letting everyone win a participation ribbon, but I guess it is Valentine’s Day after all. Before we say our goodbyes, is there anything else you’d like to address.
AJ: I think the best movie of all time is Get Him to the Greek. Also, I’m coming around to seeing Harry Styles as a real artist. There’s something there.
Harry Styles – too young to stalk but not too young to do.
JQ: Wow… that’s very random. But so that you know that I hear you, I have put Get Him to the Greek on my to-do list. In terms of Harry Styles, I am too busy listening to string quartets and playing Fishdom to listen to him. But based on his good looks, I’ve put him on my other to-do list.
AJ: You go, girl.
JQ: Thank you, Annabel, for interviewing with me. I’m starstruck by your talent and zest for ginger and all things kinky. I love learning new things and you sent me down a Wikipedia road that Alice in Wonderland would be in awe of. Plus, I’ve gotten to look at a lot of regency porn.
AJ: YAY! My work here is done!
Annabel Joseph is a NYT and USA Today bestselling BDSM erotic romance author. She writes mainly contemporary romance, although she has been known to dabble in the medieval and Regency eras.
Stay up-to-date with Annabel’s latest news by following her on social media:
That was so much fun, I’m going to do it all over again next month. After a tremendous amount of badgering, whining, and threats of extortion, Nikita Slater has agreed to do another interview with me!
Nikita Slater is the International Bestselling author of The Queens series, Fire & Vice series, The Sanctuary series, Driven Hearts series and several standalone novels. When she isn’t writing, dreaming about writing or talking about writing, she helps others discover a love of reading and writing through literacy and social work.
I hope everyone is having a hopelessly romantic Valentines Day!
A little Valentines vintage porn by Thomas Rowlandson
Don’t you just love 2020! How could you not? We’ve all survived 20 years past the year 2000, in which the world was set to self-destruct. See how resilient we are? We also made it through the dreadful Mayan crisis of December 21, 2012. There were several thoughts on how the world would end on that day including but not limited to an Alien invasion.
Alas, the aliens talked it over and decided they weren’t interested.
Unidentified tropical drink
February 4, 2020 is also said to be a possible world ender. I don’t care about this one because I’ll be on vacation in sunny climes with Mr. Quinn, my sister, who also happens to be the medical advisor for my books (who knew strippers were so smart?) and her partner, who is just like Mr. Quinn and uses my sister’s last name (yep, they’re all Quinns). By the time February 4th rolls around, the four of us we’ll have been together for 10 days so it’s possible that we will welcome a world-ending break from each other.
Having said all that, I’m quite confident that we’ll be around after February 4th.
Do you know why?
Because there are several future cataclysmic events predicted. By logic, if the world ended on February 4th, that would mean all the other predictions would be wrong, and so far, none of the past predictions have come true, so we can only put our stock in future predictions.
DD Prince in her natural habitat
Why am talking about the end of the world?
Because DD Prince once said hell would freeze over before she’d let me interview her. And yet here we are, all still standing, hell’s still burning, and I’ve bagged an interview with the famous indy author, DD Prince! Un-effing-believable!
Not really, because it happened, unlike the end of the world bullshit predictions.
Let’s get right down to it. My Interview with DD Prince!
Ms. Prince and I met at her house, a lovely bungalow surrounded by white snow in a city called Niagara Falls, which is quite odd given that I thought Niagara Falls was a waterfall. Who knew a name could be a town and also falls (that’s irony for those of you who haven’t read my shifter romance series)?
Niagara Falls – the city and the falls. Guess which is which.
Thinking I was going to a party in my honour, I wore a bright red leather figure hugging skirt, four-inch stilettos and a sexy red smile. And a top too, in case you were wondering. It just wasn’t noteworthy.
DD Prince & Phat Cat stunt doubles.
When I arrived, Ms. Prince and her Phat Cat greeted me at the door. No one else appeared to be present. Perhaps it was a surprise party, but after five minutes of awkward lingering silence while I hovered in the foyer, I realized it was just going to be us: me, DD Prince and Phat Cat.
However disappointed I was that there was no party, I reminded myself that this interview wasn’t about me. I had to do that several times over the course of the interview because yes, I am that shallow.
Ms. Prince looked a vision in her jeans and bright pink flipflops, which she wouldn’t let me borrow for my vacation. Her ponytail hung neatly down one side of her head, the other side, however, was only partially tucked into her hair tie. She didn’t seem to notice so I simply praised her on her unique hairstyle.
Her eyes twinkled like she’d been drinking or smoking something, both of which I had no objection to unless of course, she chose not to share.
I complimented her on her pink flipflops and asked where I might obtain a pair. She told me to eff-off with the sisterhood bullshit and sit down, which I promptly did (sat down only, because it is literally impossible to eff-off and sit down at the same time).
There was a mountain of huge platters of food on the dining table, including the moistest radish rosettes I have ever touched my lips to. Cheeseburgers, cabbage rolls, vegan sushi rolls and other unidentifiable consumables filled the table and the two extension leaves. All of it was intended to be washed down with an abundance of red wine, Starbucks Caramel Macchiatos and Tim Horton’s steeped tea.
Ms. Prince assured me that no sperm were injured in the making of this irresistible flower.
The real Tucker the Phat Cat. He’s a diva.
Her alien Phat Cat (aka Tucker) kept mewing at me about the cruelty of Ms. Prince who was regularly underfeeding him.
Apparently, I gained the ability to speak alien Phat Cat – either the radish rosettes or the unidentifiable consumables triggered the hidden talent.
After I was appropriately sloshed, I asked my first question.
JQ (as in Jasmin Quinn, as in me): Ms. Prince, should I call you DD or DeeDee?
DD (for brevity’s sake): It’s all in the enunciation. DD is easier to pronounce, so most people use it like a nickname. Facebook forced me to use DeeDee.
JQ: Those bastards. I feel as if you and I could be soul sisters.
Phat cat (clawing my dollar store thigh highs, with surprisingly little effect):DiDi already has a sister.
Apparently, there’s no translation in alien for DD.I ignore the cat
DD (watching the interaction, whispers): Just go with it. He’s been declawed but keeps forgetting.
JQ (winks with complicity): I see. Oh, ouch, bad cat. Ouch.
DD (popping a grape into her mouth): About the soul-sister shit? I’m not feeling it and I don’t know you well enough.
I take a delicate sip of the wine as I contemplate my next move… er… question.
JQ: Yet that’s exactly what happened with Deacon and Ella. I heard you had a hand in getting them together. Yes?
DD seemed surprised at my question. Despite my reputation, I do know how to lob the hard balls.
DD: Well, yeah. I love happy endings. Often my heroines are reluctant at the start, but my heroes are nothing if not determined so we’re all committed in the end😉(yes, DD is smiling and winking).
JQ: Moving on. Facebook has done us both dirt. I like it when others validate my disdain for giant privacy stealing whore conglomerates.
Not actual picture of DD looking skeptical
DD: Crackbook. Yeah. They jailed me for copy/pasting a pic of a ball gag once. It was just a picture of a head! That was when I knew how badly I was addicted. Being able to scroll without liking or commenting.
JQ: I’ve never been to Facebook jail. I guess I’m not naughty enough. Let’s talk about all the things we have in common.
DD(looking sceptical): Such as?
JQ (pursing my lips professionally): This is your interview, Ms. Prince. I don’t want to put words in your mouth.
DD sighs as she exchanges her Starbuck’s tea for an 8-ounce glass of wine, which she mixes with a Vex Vodka cooler.
Yeah, it got crazy!
DD(thoughtfully as she drinks the concoction in her glass): Well, I do hate pirates!
JQ (gasping): How can you hate pirates? They have parrotlets. Saying you hate pirates is like saying you hate parrotlets.
Yes! It is a naked pirate and a naked parrotlet!
A loud squawking from the other room distracts me.
JQ: What’s that?
DD: My parrotlet. He doesn’t like it when people are mean to me.
JQ (loudly so the parrotlet can hear): I meant no disrespect. Is that why you hate pirates? Because you had to rescue the parrotlet from a viscous, horrible pirate who was mistreating it?
DD: No, I hate internet pirates who violate copyright by stealing my books and making them available to everyone.
DD: And Goodreads trolls who review books they haven’t read or the book pirates who 1-star everything but keep reading every single book.
JQ: I have a couple of those too.
DD: And turnips. Blech. Who thought that was a good idea? Not mother nature, that’s for sure. Had to be a man.
JQ (a little dismayed over DD’s hatred of innocent vegetables): Not even in stew?
It’s like she doesn’t hear me.
DD: Musicals and pumpkin spice, hate them so much.
JQ (my head is spinning so I pop an unidentified purple consumable): At the same time? Like if you took pumpkin spice to a musical? Or do you simply hate musicals, with or without pumpkin spice?
DD (on a roll now and not listening to me): I also hate when people come into my space while I’m in The Zone(she said it like Chandler does) and then apologize when I make crazy noises and throw my arms up in the air gasping about being interrupted and this makes them want to slink off with apologies but they’ve already broken the spell so they might as well tell me what the Eff they want.
JQ (quickly changing the subject): I understand you’re married.
DD (gulping her wine-cooler concoction): Yes. I lived in sin for six years, then got married. 24 years now.
JQ: So that would make you old then?
DD (coldly): 47 is not old.
DD seems agitated and I think it’s at her husband. Perhaps they’re fighting over the Parrotlet. I want to ask why she would get married after trying someone out for six years but decide that might be a sensitive topic. So instead,
JQ: Describe your husband’s penis.
DD: After this much time together and the fact that I’ve had 2 c-sections and I’m no longer 105 pounds soaking wet, the lights are definitely OFF for The Business. I haven’t seen what it looks like in a while. He recently started cleaning the house. I think it’s sexy AF. LOL
JQ (thinking about Mr. Quinn’s penis and his lack of emptying-the-dishwasher skills): Does it droop?
DD: I have no idea. He’s not droopy around me.
How about droopy purple dogs?
Chagrined, I decide to have a chat with Mr. Quinn and change the subject. Not change the subject about Mr. Quinn’s skills in the kitchen, but move on from DD’s husband lest I stray into sensitive areas.
JQ: Do you like purple penises?
DD: Why yes. Yes, I do. I have a purple Lelo Ina 2.
JQ: How fortuitous that I asked that question! What about purple snakes?
DD: I’m afraid of snakes. I also fear heights.
JQ: Based on those fears, I’m guessing your least favourite movie is Snakes on a Plane. What shows and movies you do like to watch?
Snakes make my stomach twist and not in a good way.
DD: I’ve just finished bingeing Peaky Blinders and Carnival Row. I loved them. I loved Game of Thrones (before the last season) and am still not over the ending. I loved Lost and am still not over THAT ending. Why do they keep fucking up my shows? I tend to watch just one thing at a time. I don’t watch a lot of TV. I’d rather read. Or write. But I try to watch an hour of TV a night with my husband so I don’t spend all my non-sleeping/non-cleaning time in my home office.
JQ: It’s good that you’re keeping the spark alive. Mr. Quinn watches hockey and I bitch about it. Same thing, different show. Next question, DD, what’s your peculiar power?
DD: I don’t have one.
JQ: A moment ago I would have said it was your ability to replace bad words with fake ones, such as effing for fucking. But you just said fucking in your last answer, so I too am stumped.
DD: Unless it’s maybe cooking or writing. Though, you’ve barely touched the food I’ve made and those Goodreads trolls are at it again, so maybe I’m talentless. At least I have my cat.
DD reaches for Phat Cat but he snottily wanders offto troll the internet.
JQ: Your cooking is delicious. I find these little gummy bears particularly addictive. And you’re writing is fantastic! Trolls don’t get a say because they’re not human.
JQ: Explain your hatred of scrunchies. Did you have a traumatic childhood experience like I did with ponchos?
DD: It started with Jason Momoa.
JQ: Ah. Aquaman’s alias.
DD has a point. FYI, this is not a picture of DD or her stunt double.
DD: I think it’s the other way around.
JQ (justifiably condescending): Yes, I’m sure it is.
DD: And I don’t hate scrunchies. I loved scrunchies, especially soft velvet ones for my own hair with no pulling as they were roughly yanked out during sexy time. I also had a thing for banana clips. Thank GOD men haven’t started wearing those! Scrunchies on a guy? On an alpha? Mm, no. Maybe I do have a scrunchy trauma that I’ve buried deep, I don’t know, but tell me about this poncho thing (pats chair). Tell Auntie Dee what happened.
Cheap therapy.
JQ: The poncho incident is still too traumatic for me to discuss without more wine.
I hold out my glass as she opens another bottle and empties the entire thing into my goblet. Girl knows how to buy wine glasses.
DD: Have you discussed it with a therapist?
JQ: He thinks I compensate for my childhood by drinking, but I had to quit seeing him. I couldn’t afford both him and the wine.
DD is clever, avoiding my questions by talking about me. The ruse works almost every time.
JQ: Let’s move this convo back to you. What I hear you saying is that you don’t hate scrunchies, but you hate men who wear scrunchies.
DD: My top celebrity crushes are Charlie Hunnam and Jason Momoa but Jason is in a time out because of his scrunchy love. His love for pink hair scrunchies has made me realize my love for him is not unconditional. Sad but true.
JQ: Does Charlie Hunnam wear scrunchies too?
DD: No, he does not. I love everything about him. Dat ass! That sexy smile. And those eyes. Unf.
Charlie Hunnam front and back
I’ve lost her again as she gazes off longingly.
I look at my notes and shuffle my papers around like I’ve seen Barbara Walters do when she gets confused but doesn’t want to ask. I do anyway.
JQ: What is Unf?
DD: Unf. You know. UNFFFFFFFF
DD makes a face that I think means to be sexy or wise, but it comes off looking like she might be constipated. I am confused by her expression and also embarrassed by my lack of knowledge of modern words. Stay woke, Jasmin. Stay woke.
JQ (changing topics yet again): My next question is about Phat cat. Why?
Phat Cat approved stunt double.
DD (looking down at Phat Cat, who looks back at her with an evil glare): I guess I like being dominated. I get immense satisfaction from feeding him, scooping his poop, and getting completely ignored unless he’s looking at me with disdain. It must be why I also chose to get married and have kids.
Phat Cat (not a happy Phat Cat): She’s talking about my shit. Why doesn’t she talk about her own shit? And she wonders why I look at her with disdain.
JQ: Mr. Quinn is afraid of cats so I don’t have one. But truly, Phat Cat sounds delightful.
Phat Cat takes another swipe at my leg and tells me to change the subject. I do, because he’s scary when he’s angry.
JQ: Speaking of parrotlets, according to Wikipedia, they don’t understand that they are a tiny bird, and have little trouble challenging other animals and humans. Parrotlets in general are feisty, affectionate, and willful.
True or False, Ms. Prince. Many of your female heroines are based on your parrotlet.
DD: I think it’s safer to say my heroes are based on my parrotlet. My parrotlet thinks I’m his girlfriend (even though I insist I am not) and he is willing to rip apart anyone who comes near me.
JQ: How old is your parrolet and what is his name?
DD: We named him Captain Jack Sparrow and he’s 8 years old. We call him Jack. He also calls me Jack. Or cutie patootie. Or silly bird.
Captain Jack Sparrow
JQ (squirming on my chair): OMG, he’s a pirate.
DD: I see you’re fanning yourself. I, too, get all aflutter with the notion of a sexy pirate.
Captain Jack Sparrow whips into the room and lands on DD’s shoulder, his unexpected swooping making me jump and knocking over Phat Cat, who is not amused.
Captain Jack Sparrow (staring at me with sexy eyes): Cutie pattootie!
Captain Jack Sparrow
JQ (blushing and fanning myself): Jack, you have such great taste.
DD(also staring at me with narrowed eyes and a cute little pout): Back off you red-lipped hussy. I’m his girlfriend.
I think about getting up in her face, but then remember that I’m not supposed to get physical with my interviewees.
JQ (trying to avoid the Captain’s sexy stare): According to the internet, Parrotlets can live between 20 and 30 years. Does his long lifespan concern you at all? I understand that children also have long lifespans, but they eventually leave home, forgetting to call or text unless they need money. And dogs and cats have the good grace to die when they’re teenagers.
Captain Jack Sparrow & Captain Jack Sparrow
Phat Cat throws me the stink eye and digs his teeth into my ankle bone.
DD: A little concerned, especially with Jack’s possessive tendencies. This bird was bought for my son, but Jack decided that I was his, so I’m pretty much in a committed relationship with him whether I want to be or not (kind of like some of my darker alphas).
DD: This was an actual conversation between me and my mister last night. We had an electrician over dealing with something by the front door and so due to draft worries, we moved Jack to the great room.
Mr. Prince’s stunt double
Mr watches Jack do a funny wiggle against the rope while going ‘peep peep peep’.
Mr: Is Jack getting ‘off’ on his rope perch?
me: Oh yeah, he always does that.
Mr: Stop that, you lil perv.
me: Don’t stop that, Jack. Self lovin’ is good lovin’.
Mr shakes head at me.
JQ: You have children. How have you kept that fact hidden from everyone?
DD (taking another long swallow of her drink): It’s not a secret. I’ve already mentioned it to you before.
I rifle through my notes, which are more like scribbles on paper, looking for the elusive “fact”. Since I can’t find it, I take a different tact.
JQ: Let’s talk fish. You and I have been invited to a party (I’m so excited!). We go, there are so many really cool people there (like Jason Momoa in a scrunchy) as well as a fish tank with all sorts of swimmers. You’re being pressured to swallow one of the fishes live. Which one would you swallow?
Phat Cat’s stunt double and real shark. My money’s on Phat Cat.
I look at Phat Cat who gives me a subtle shake of his head.
DD’s lying about the translator failure, but I let it go, mostly because Phat Cat answered the question.
He said he would swallow the shark.
JQ: Time for my Barbara Walters’ questions.
DD checks her watch.
JQ: What’s new for DD Prince in 2020? What are your writing plans? Do you intend to involve yourself in illegal activities? Will this be the year DD Prince becomes a convict? Does orange suit your colouring?
DD: This year, I’m hoping to write my ass off, make lots of money, get ONLY positive reviews, and become wildly popular and beloved by all. Err… is that early January enthusiasm for a new year? Probably. I’m hoping to have a great year with plenty of new releases. 2019 was light on releases for me (though I did work my ass off with a lot of business stuff related to my books). I write books in multiple romance genres and this year I hope to have releases in all those genres. Biker book. Dark romances. Paranormal. I have readers that read in all those genres and ones who follow me for specific books so I’m hoping to have something for all of them this year.
I fist pump a happy ‘yas’!
JQ: Why did you decide to become a steamy romance writer? Was it because your name wasn’t conducive to becoming a porn star? Or a stripper? Did you not want to change your name so you could pursue these other professions?
DD: My birth certificate says they named me Tasty Taint, so I totally needed a pen name to dial it down a notch. 😉 DD works. Daddy Dom? Double D boobs? It was a nickname when I was a kid and maybe it was a self-fulfilling bra size prophesy.
My eyes get caught up in Ms. Prince’s bosom as she adjusts her over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. I adjust mine too.
Captain Jack Sparrow (squawking on her shoulder): Her eyes are up here.
JQ: You seem to have a split personality. I haven’t decided which of you is the evil personality, but I think it might be DD. Scarlett Starkleigh is just too darn sweet. These next questions are for her.
JQ: Would you fuck an alien who looks like an alien – the kind with tentacles, protruding horns, and scales and other possible stuff (presuming your husband didn’t object)?
ScarStar: Have you been checking my late-night browsing history? Because that’s totally wrong and I admire you for it. <Whispering> I am into monster porn as a guilty pleasure. Tentacles not so much. Then again, in the monster porn I like I really don’t have a choice. What the monster wants, he gets <shivers>.
Scarlett Starkleigh’s earth disguise. Note lack of scrunchie.
JQ: Are you married to a human or in a torrid affair with an alien?
ScarStar: I’m always having affairs with whatever book boyfriend I’m writing 😉
In Zane’s and Tanya’s Hot Alpha Alien Husbands book’s epilogue…small spoiler, she finally achieved her dream of publishing books and wrote an alien romance series from Planet Phallyx and her hot alien hubby used his super tech skills to get her published on Earth.
Now, I’m not saying I am Tanya and my husband is Zane and I really live on Planet Phallyx and am just pretending to be DD Prince, a 47 year old mother of two in Niagara Falls, but I’m also NOT saying I’m NOT really Tanya Zenith who lives on Planet Phallyx with her 7 ft tall hot alpha alien husband.
JQ: Huh?
DD: 😉
JQ (narrowing my eyes. I think she’s trying to confuse me): Planet Phallyx. Wherever did you come up with that name?
ScarStar: It was a play on words for a phallic symbol. I wanted everything about Project D to be utterly ridiculous in the light and fun read that Daxx and Jetta’s book was designed to be.
JQ: Is there life on other planets or are you just making shit up?
SS: I think the real question is, do you think I’m making this shit up?
It’s a bit of a trick question because all romance novels are based on real life events and the authors’ life experiences. But is Scartlett/DD having torrid love affairs with aliens or does she just think she is? Either way, I give the only answer I dare with Phat Cat staring at me like I’m his next meal.
JQ: No, absolutely you’re not making this shit up.
JQ: This question is for DD. Will your alternate personality, Scarlett Starkleigh, survive the year or are you currently seeking therapy to become whole again? Do you plan to exorcise that unstable… uhm… doppelgänger?
DD: We’ll see what happens with her. She’s momentarily repressed. Shh. You might not want to wake her.
JQ: We’ve worked together on an anthology, haven’t we?
DD: Yes. That was so much fun. I mean, we got an orange banner together. That was awesome. I thought all five stories were great.
JQ: Me too! I loved Holden, although his lack of head at the beginning made me highly suspicious of his skills as a lover. How did you find that experience, working with me? Like on a scale of one to ten, if you were comparing me to the other contributors. I was the best, wasn’t I?
DD (totally sidestepping the question): I thought this interview was about me… speaking of me… you scarred me with the ending of your book in that anthology. I had a full-on head to toe shiver. You totally shocked me when you were the first of five of us to finish because you were like, “I finished mine. Is it bad if the hero kills the heroine?” And people say I’m dark…. Does your hatred of happy endings have something to do with your poncho trauma?
JQ: No. My happy ending phobia is related to my hatred of houseplants. Moving on, and let me preface the question by saying you don’t have to answer this one until you’re good and drunk, but would you consider a future collaboration if someone came up with a brilliant idea?
DD: Definitely. That was my first anthology but overall it was a lot of fun.
JQ: I want to ask you the murder, fuck, marry question because it’s one of my favourites, but you may have trouble answering it since you have very awesome Heroes. Although I know from the books I’ve read of yours, who I would murder, fuck and marry. So I’m asking you and if you can’t find it in your heart to murder anyone, I’ll gladly fill in the blank at risk of getting stoned by your readers – it’s Canada though. Getting stoned is legal now.
There’s that purple one!
DD: Sorry, what were you saying? I was busy counting cannabis gummy bears. Damn, lost count again.
JQ: Oh, those unidentifiable consumables are cannabis gummy bears?
DD (narrowing her eyes like I’m the alien): What was the question? Oh… murder, fuck, marry….
I’d fuck all of them. In fact, I have! Out on the astral plane as I wrote those books. Marry? Tommy will always be my number one. I could be wrong but can’t see writing another H that has more of an impact on my life than Tommy has.
Murder one of my alphas? No way. Shut your dirty mouth. Wait. Before you shut it, which of my alphas would you murder? <Watches ScarStar shoot Jas the evil eye>
JQ (trying to stay on the good side of ScarStar, realizing she’s far more freaky than DD, and not in a good way): I would not kill your gorgeous Daxx or Zane. I’m afraid it would be Alessandro Romero of Saved fame. He stayed with me long after I read the book, and not for the reasons Daxx or Zane did.
JQ: Which of your male characters would be most likely to kidnap you?
DD: Well, all of them because I am a goddess but I have a strong suspicion Tristan, my vampire from Nectar, would be first. My blood is probably delicious, and I bet he can’t stop thinking about it.
JQ: Which of your male characters would try to rescue you?
DD: Probably those beautiful bikers of mine. They’d put their heads together and come up with a plan to get me back.
DD: Tristan. Those bikers are hot and muscly but my immortal vamp—He’s got SKILLS.
JQ: Who would you want to win?
DD: Tristan, for sure. He can keep me in his lair indefinitely, catering to my every need while feeding from and fucking me around the clock. He tastes like DESSERT. But I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to my bikers.
JQ: I have some quick questions for you. What is your preferred murder weapon and why?
DD: My keyboard. I can be as brutal as I want to with no actual repercussions.
JQ: Smart answer. Describe your ideal penis.
DD: I’ve been looking at the same penis since I was 17 years old. How about… one that’s IN me?
JQ: What are your thoughts on Nutella?
Nutella has many uses! 😉
DD: I never get to eat it because I live in a house full of boys who demolish it as soon as I buy it. <Alexa: add Nutella to my shopping list and remind me to hide it>
ALEXA: Adding Nutella to shopping list. Reminding you to hide it.
JQ: Hair-pulled, throat gripped, or wrists restrained. Pick one. Explain your choice.
DD: Yummmm. Oh. Pick one. Wrists restrained. I’ll explain later. I just got a mental picture and I need a minute. 😉 And my charging cord. Shitbuggerdamn. How is this thing dead again?
JQ: I penciled your explanation into my appointment book, two weeks from today. Moving on. You’ve met an ugly baby. How do you compliment it without lying?
DD: Funnily enough we have a code word among my group of friends for an ugly baby and it’s “precious”
Where’s my precious
Not an ugly baby
JQ (glancing nervously at Phat Cat): If your cat could speak (like your parrotlet), what would it say if I asked it for a reference?
Phat Cat (jumping in with his comments):No more than 2.5 stars.
She’s all right, I suppose. Though, sometimes she misses my cues that my bowl is nearly empty, and I have to give her affection to get her attention when she’s looking at that laptop. She doesn’t understand my preferred wet food to dry food ratio and likely never will and lately has started using a measuring cup for my dry food, which is entirely unacceptable (I preferred the previous method of keeping the bowl full at all times) but in lieu of an alternative and the males in this house, she makes a passable slave. She’s adept at sidestepping me when I try to trip her down the stairs.
Here are my recommendations to increase her rating:
Do as he says, DD!
Buy more treats.
STOP closing the bathroom door when she goes in, preventing me from entering. I do not like being restricted.
Find a noiseless vacuum cleaning machine.
Stop stepping on my tail. She’s stepped on it 4 times in my 10 years and I won’t ever forgive her. The more it happens, the more I’ll try to trip her down the stairs.
JQ (gently toeing Phat Cat to shut him up; Phat Cat bites my shoe): Never mind. Ms. Prince, is there anything you’d like to add before we wrap this interview up?
DD: I’m so glad you came. Eat some more food. I made so much. I want to say that I love readers who take the time to review. And especially those that recommend their favorite books and authors. It really helps a lot. Can I get you another plate of food?
JQ: Is there anymore wine?
DD (shaking her head): No. But would you like a gummy bear?
Gummies are the next best thing and I pocket a handful.
JQ: Thank you for your time today. I appreciate the evasiveness of many of your answers. It makes me feel like once this is published, I will get more respect in the journalistic circles I run in.
I don’t really run, it’s idiomatic expression. Also, none of the journalistic circles will have me.
DD (evading my comment as she packs up a bunch of food to take with me): Thank you again for coming.
Phat Cat sees me to the door and slams it behind me.
DD Prince is an International Bestselling Author who writes Dark, Dangerous, and Deliciously Addictive Romances with Alpha Antiheroes. DD is also Canadian, although she is an easterner.
Keep up with DD Prince’s latest news by following her on social media and signing up for her newsletter and visiting her website.
That was so much fun and as you know, I’m all about the fun! Thank you DD Prince, for indulging me and being my first author interview in 2020. Once I get the silly out, I’m usually good for another month before I need to act out again.
Which works out perfectly, because Annabel Joseph’s interview with moi (!) will be posted on February 14th. Why, that’s just in time for Valentine’s Day! 😉
Annabel Joseph is a NYT and USA Today bestselling romance author. She writes mainly contemporary romance, although she has been known to dabble in the medieval and Regency eras. She is known for writing emotionally intense storylines, and strives to create characters that seem real–even flawed–so readers are better able to relate to them. She also has a fantastic sense of humour, which comes through in her videos.
Hope the rest of your January is blues free. If not, drop by my Facebook group, Jasmin’s Dark Side, and let me know. I’ll write you a poem!
Hello to those of you who have great taste in Romance Books and anyone else reading my blog!
It’s another marvelous day in British Columbia! First, I had cake for breakfast. I don’t always have cake for breakfast, but when I do, I have a lot of cake.
Second, my car is getting serviced. I’m so pleased that there’s a spa for cars – mine is getting a flush job, a rear-end alignment, and a full body waxing. Mistress Three-Point (one for each nipple), who checked my baby in, said that they would also turn back time and make my boy an hour younger.
My car is getting old, but he’s still a good little ride. One day I’ll tell you about Christine, my husband’s car – she’s evil. I think that’s why my husband likes her (he says she reminds him of me).
My stunt double in case you were wondering if I have long blonde hair and a body that can rock that dress. No to both.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, cake for breakfast, servicing for the boy car and… and… I have a new book out!
Yep, you heard it here first or not, probably not, unless you just tripped over this blog or don’t follow my social media, which is too bad because there are giveaways and stuff and also people are hilarious (mostly me…okay…again not true, but other people are hilarious).
Fierce Intentions, the second installment in the Shifters of Darkness Falls series, is out! Yes! Shifters, wolves, and a romance between a hot muscled shifter and a sexy cop named Eva. It’s divine!
And also here, though that here is because of Nikita Slater’s release of The Last Sanctuary, which ironically is also the last book in her Sanctuary Trilogy.
Or maybe it was planned that way, though I doubt it. You should also read it because I did and no one wants me to one-up them. I’m quite impossible when I have the upper hand. Also, the books are EPIC (my word of the week) – great world-building, awesome characters, suspenseful, romantic and a happy ending.
Let’s move on to Prince Albert, Saskatchewan (not really, no one has to move there if they don’t want), which by the way, just celebrated Waste Reduction Week. I got confused thinking they meant waistreduction week so I phoned them for advice. The only advice the dear old white-haired man (yes, I stalked him on Facebook) had for me was to stop eating cake for breakfast.
Stunt double of white-haired man after seeing PA Piercing.
Having exhausted that line of discussion, we moved on to what Prince Albert is most famous for, which is piercings. The poor old man didn’t understand until I told him to google-image it.
He’s dead now.
I can’t get anyone else in Prince Albert to help me on my quest (they saw what killed him and now I’m officially on a do-not-engage list), so I had to turn to my friend, Master Google, who is extremely accommodating (gold star for me – I got the spelling right on first try).
Apparently, the real Prince Albert had one. Why did he have one? Well according to rumour (I’m not making this shit up, although I suspect somebody did), it was a so-called dressing ring used to pull the penis into tight-fitting fashions. Another rumour suggests he wore it to keep his foreskin retracted and fresh smelling so as not to offend the Queen. It must have worked – they had NINE children. NINE! Fuck me, and I don’t mean literally. Okay, I also mean literally, but not if you want babies.
Another rumour is that Italian Fascist dictator Benito Mussolini had a Prince Albert, which he used for stress reduction (eyes rolling here – not really, my eyes don’t roll – sorry if I freaked anyone out) and he cut holes in the pockets of his pants so he could grab the ring and tug on it when he was feeling anxious. I drink to relieve stress because I don’t have a penis to play with. Well, I kind of do, but it’s in my husband’s pants, so it’s not always convenient.
Why am I wasting all this good virtual paper on the PA Piercing and forcing myself to remember i comes before e (just like I comes before my husband or he’s in big trouble)? Thank you for asking. I’m fixated on PA Piercings because I read about one in a book and I didn’t know what it was, so I did what any sane person would do. I google-imaged it!!!
FUCK ME (see above for the literalness of this statement)!!!!
Random tattooed guy in tub with Prince Albert Piercing (who is legally licensed unlike wallpaper guy)
I showed my husband, who was a little offended that I was googling penises though he shouldn’t be. I have a tattooed biker for wallpaper on my monitor (who has a Prince Albert piercing under his jeans) (and also, he’s not wearing underwear) (and also he’s hung like Aztec). My husband never says a word about him, but apparently he draws the line at penises with piercings.
Starfish with Prince Albert Piercing
I mentioned my naivete in my FB Group, Jasmin’s Dark Side (you should totally join), and there was some discussion about it. Mostly everyone was surprised that they knew more than I did. I’m lying, no one was surprised. It’s well-known that I only know random things like a starfish’s leg will grow back should it get amputated. Everything else, I wing – like the whole i before e controversy. Then, and I’m not going to name names (it’s really hard for me to resist naming names), one of the Dark Siders said penises were ugly.
Not that I’m disagreeing, but also know that I lie regularly unless it’s about important things like what kind of toppings I want on pizza. Just heard from my husband. Apparently penises are important too. And he’s right, dammit!
Penis are wildly interesting, highly addictive and somewhat attractive. I’ve never wanted to have one (literally), but they look good on most men, although I haven’t seen all the penis of the men I know – husband gets cranky when I ask his friends to drop their pants. I particularly like the long, wide hard models that come (see what I did there?) with two balls.
One-ball BiL. He’s also a pirate. And a cat. (joking, this is his stunt double)
Speaking of balls, my brother-in-law (let’s call him BiL) only has one ball although he started out in life with two, but had a golfing accident (it’s so easy to lose balls on the golf course), which forced all his sperm to live together in a single testicle. The sperms don’t like how crowded it is in there so BiL says he has to make space regularly.
Because BiL is one giant prick (not really, so says my husband, who apparently has seen him without underwear), I like to remind him of his lack of ball. BiL also didn’t know the difference between a dildo and a vibrator, so I explained it to him during a fun game of charades. He now knows, but won’t talk to me anymore. I told my husband it’s because he has no ball.
A Foot Long Hot Dog with a Prince Albert Piercing
Time to wrap this up because I have some things to do like eat more cake (not really, I’m over my cake binge – now I want a hot dog) and pick up my naughty little car from the brothel… I mean spa. He’ll be obnoxiously relaxed so I’ll scare the crap out of him by running a few red lights.
Before I go, a quick note on what’s next. Robert Creed, the wrongly convicted killer in Hard Lessons (Running with the Devil Book 5), gets his own book on December 27, 2019. I’m so excited to write this one! After Fallen Angel (Running with the Devil Book 10), I’ll be working on Alpha’s Prey (Shifters of Darkness Falls Book 3) which I plan to publish February 28th, 2020.
Happy adventures to everyone and because it’s almost Halloween, don’t choke on a camel!
Dear fellow readers who collect pictures of sexy men and put them on your computer in a folder labelled Tuna Casserole recipes, and also those of you who don’t.
Did you know I’m awesome at Texas Hold ’em?
“Why aren’t you rich then?” you ask.
First, I have no poker face. Seriously, the minute I have the potential for a winning hand, my knees start to shake, my hands start to perspirate, my voice starts to break, my feet start to aspirate (it’s really perspirate, but I’ve taken poetic licence with the lyrics).
Total rip-off of lyrics from Bill Amesbury’s Virginia Touch me like you do, which I now can’t get out of my head. Let’s have a group sing!
Back to my unrealized dream of being a world-renowned Texas Hold ’em player and all the booze, men and fame that goes along with that. Unlike Mack Welling (see what I did there? No? Guess you’ll have to read Wild Card ), I’m an open book when I’m excited, which is a lot of the time – not just when I’m playing poker.
I’ve played online poker, which is where I discovered my Rainman genius (just kidding, I’m not Rainman, although I can do simple math in my head as long as I can see my fingers and toes), but I still get overstimulated, and not in a “please don’t stop” way. When things aren’t going my way, I sometimes melt down like a nuclear reactor in Nikita Slater’s Sanctuary on Fire (I don’t think that was a spoiler).
Long story short, that’s why I write books.
And speaking of books, Wild Card is in a virtual book store near you (provided you have internet, a computer or tablet and a kindle app). Paperback will also be available right after I proof the Proof, which will take a couple of weeks because the Proof comes from the U.S.
Toronto Blue Jays in Seattle
Which brings me to the United States (literally). I was in Seattle recently because the Toronto Blue Jays were in town playing the Seattle Mariners. That’s baseball for you folks that either don’t follow the sport or ignore all other teams unless they’re yours. The Toronto Blue Jays is the only major league baseball team in Canada and they are east of my house (West Coast Canada) by several provinces. So when Seattle hosts the Blue Jays, it’s one big British Columbian migration south of the 49th parallel.
I love men in tight white pants (sigh).
I also want to shout out to Seattle and Washington state, in general. The people are incredibly friendly and the city and state are beautiful.
Me shopping!
Also, there’s an outlet mall that’s to die for. Clearly, I didn’t die, but that’s because I was forced back to the car by my sister and her husband. My hub knows better than to do anything but observe while I’m in my natural habitat. There were a few hurt feelings and some scratches that bled, but we’re all back to being civil. I even shared my popcorn with my sister at the baseball game (but only because it was bottomless).
Okay, enough about my shit. Let’s get on with the real news.
Wild Card (Running with the Devil Book 9) is the next installment of my Running with the Devil series. Mack Welling is in trouble and only Astrid Bure can help him (not true, but for the sake of the story, let’s go with that). Then Mack gets out of trouble and Astrid gets into it and only Mack can help her (also not true – see previous sentence).
Mack is a cool, sexy character that I based on my husband (also not true – am I becoming a compulsive liar?). Mack has so many demons he could keep an exorcist in business for 20 years. But of course, everyone lives happily ever after except the bad guys. Wait? What? Which bad guys? Guess you’ll have to read to find out.
What’s next?
The second installment in my Darkness Falls series, Fierce Intentions, is what’s next! It will be hot, dangerous and uh… hmmm…. just hot and dangerous. Eva, spunky female cop from Basic Instinct (Book 1 of Shifters of Darkness Falls)and Aztec, broody mountain pack shifter also from Book 1 will find trouble when Aztec’s past comes back to bite him the ass.
Fierce Intentions will be released October 25th, 2019.
AND…
Fallen Angel (Running with the Devil Book 10) will also release this year on December 27.Fallen Angel picks up where Wild Card leaves off. Wild Card DOES NOT end on a cliffhanger, but the last line in the epilogue segues to Fallen Angel, and that’s all I’m going to say about that right now. More to come. Always more to come.
What does that mean?
(I think that my use of questions to transition to the next topic is becoming a habit, although not necessarily a bad one. I only have one habit that really bothers my husband, but it’s not my fault that my incisors are as sharp as they are. He just needs to learn to lie still.)
Including Fallen Angel, there are only three more books in the Running with the Devil series. However, I’m in process of writing a free bonus book related to the series (hoping to release in January) as well as a prequel and a postquel (postquel is now an official new word!), both of which will be about 50k in length. The entire series will be wrapped up in 2020.
The Shifters of Darkness Falls will have 10 books in total. If all goes according to plan, I will release 4 Darkness Falls books in 2020.
AND… I want to start an MC series as well as write a few standalone books and another dark romance series. I’ve started quite a number of books in the past couple of years and so I want to finish some of them.
RR in a candid moment
Ambitious? Absolutely. Crazy? Without a doubt!
I may have to make sacrifices such as giving up stalking. Geez, just the thought of giving up RR makes my knees start to shake, my hands start to perspirate, my voice start to break, my feet start to aspirate.
I hope you all had an amazing summer and I look forward to reconnecting with you in the fall.
In the meantime, I leave you with this little bit of wisdom. Always make sure you cite your source in case the passage comes from Frankenstein by Mary Shelly and you don’t tell your sister, who then uses it in your father’s In Memorium passage.
Why am writing this blog? No really. People keep asking (That’s not true. Only me. I keep asking). I could write about serious issues like the environment or world peace, but I prefer sex. After all, if we were all fucking and minding our own business, there’d be a whole lot fewer issues. Me, I don’t skirt the issues, I just like to approach them commando.
left: former cover; right: sanitized cover
So, let’s start this blog by talking about the elephant in the room. Chained: A Forced Mafia Marriage got banned by Amazon. Why? Because some of our content didn’t meet their guidelines. What the fuck does that mean? Nikita and I don’t know because Amazon likes to keep their explanations vague and unhelpful. This means we don’t know what to fix.
I’m finding the banning of this book unfunny, so I won’t expend a lot of energy talking about it. Nikita and I are working to restore it but I’ve never been one for silly processes and what we’re doing seems, well silly. At present, it still isn’t available.
Amazon, I used to like you. I used to defend you. You’ve hurt me and I’m having trouble finding forgiveness in my heart. I may send my wolves out after you!
Basic Instinct: Shifters of Darkness Falls Book 1 is live and for those of you who have pre-ordered, it should be in your hot little kindles. I love this book. I loved writing this book. I can’t wait to write many more of these books. And just so you know, I plan to write many more of these books.
To celebrate the release of Basic Instinct, I want to send everyone home with a treat bag. Just a little one – First Blood Moon is free for a couple of days, so if you haven’t already got a copy, this is your opportunity to grab it for free. First Blood Moon was first published in The Horror of Our Love Anthology (see my October 23, 2018 blog post Hard Lessons, My Interview with Mr. Mafia himself and on becoming an international Best-Selling Author!), but now is a standalone novella on Amazon.
And another treat! The chance to win a $25 gift card for liking and sharing the Basic Instinct release post. How do you do that? See the post on my facebook page for details.
What else?
Available June 26
Past Sins (Running with the Devil Book 8) is in the works and there is a sizzling hot excerpt at the back of Basic Instinct.
Everyone
has skeletons in their closets. Katya’s
might get her killed.
Six years ago, Katya made a mistake and she’s been running ever since. She thought she found safety working for the Russian bratva, but her past is about to catch up with her.
Alexei has been hunting Katya. She took
something that didn’t belong to her and his job is to retrieve it and kill her.
But once he has her, his heart tells him to
keep her. Now they’re on the run together because hitmen don’t get severance
pay.
Past Sins will be released June 26th and available for pre-sales by end of May.
Available May 17
Good Girl (After Dark Series) will be up for pre-sales in early May. Grab a copy while you can, just in case you-know-who decides to ban this one too. Good Girl will be released May 17th.
Were you expecting a dark cover with a girl in chains. We were too, but Nik and I made the executive decision to sanitize the cover for those faint-hearted readers out there. I know I sound bitter, but truly I’m more disappointed than bitter.
Quinn & Slater have more novellas planned over the next few months, so keep an eye out for them. They are meant to be dirty little naughty pleasures and we hope you’re enjoying them in the spirit they are being written. While we would love to turn some into full-length novels, if we tried, they’d never get written because individually, Nikita and I have heavy writing schedules. What I like about writing these short novellas is that I can produce one of them at the same time I’m writing my full-length book. I’ll alternate, which keeps the creativity flowing.
Finally, a sincere thank you to those of you who have been so supportive. You know who you are! It’s been a humbling experience being able to share my writing journey with you. And don’t worry, my sense of humour is on a temporary sabbatical. It’ll be back soon.
First, you should know I’ve had too much caffeine today. This is my second blog post. See my first over there (I can’t find an arrow; click on the picture) >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Also, I’m madly working on my next book called Basic Instinct, Book 1 in the Shifters of Darkness Falls, my new series. I wrote 8552 words today. A new record! And some of it was even worth saving! Yup, I do set daily word goals and track my word count (I’m anal, what can I say – oh, hmmm… read Collared). I’m not allowed to eat breakfast until I hit 2000 words. Trust me, food is a great motivator for me! So is wine, but I gave up the wine-before-breakfast practice. It fucked with my word count!
Ripped this off the internet – no guilt
Second (or is it 3rd?), I hardly ever feel guilty. I thought about that fact as I was making the little teaser you see above. Searched around for the guilt, couldn’t find it.
Maybe I’m a sociopath. I don’t think I am, but probably most sociopaths don’t think they are. I got a rosary in the mail the other day (I’m not Catholic) and to avoid guilt, I’ve not used it because I haven’t yet sent in the charitable contribution (and also I’m not Catholic). Same with the socks I got in the mail. They’re sitting on my desk making moon-eyes at me while my feet get cold. But nope, I won’t wear them unless I send in the charitable contribution. So maybe it’s not that I don’t feel guilt. Maybe it’s more like I avoid things that might make me feel guilt. Like wine before breakfast. Salud!
I do love guilty pleasures! I have several – wine, caffeine, little toys in my night table, maple syrup on vanilla ice cream, pizza with extra cheese, and of course, Ryan Reynolds. I don’t feel guilty about any of them. EVER!
The Real News!
I know we all want to talk more about RR, but he’s not paying the bills (not yet). In the meantime, I’m a self-supporting woman who craves the finer things in life like Koala Bears (which are quite vicious by the way) and RR. Last I wrote (or is it blogged?), I probably mentioned Collared, the first book in Nikita Slater’s and Jasmin Quinn’s (ME, though I’m guessing you know that) After Dark Series!
It’s up for pre-order on Amazon and… countdown time… 3 more fucking days until you get to read it! You don’t need to buy a copy. It will also be Free on March 15 on Kindle Unlimited. Although, buy a copy if you want. Then you can keep it forever and reread it! It will be like having multiple orgasms. Trust me…
Milla Luc is not an ordinary man. He’s gracious, charming, sexy, and powerful. Everything I desire and don’t have. Can’t have. A cocktail of perfection, too tempting to pass up and I decide to enjoy the short time I have to spend with him. After this night, I’ll never see him again.
Luc I don’t play nice. I’ve never played nice. Milla didn’t do all her homework or she’d know that. Last night, I was gentle, loving, because she was beautiful and sexy, and I didn’t want to scare her away. But playtime is over and the gloves are off.
Poor lamb is about to get savaged.
(This last line gives me chills. Yes, I wrote it, but still, it’s that fucking good!)
And More Good News!
Will it ever end? No, no it won’t!
Safeword, the next book in Nikita Slater’s and Jasmin Quinn’s (ME, again) After Dark collection is now available for pre-order for only $0.99! We’re so excited for these novellas to start going live.
It’s dark where despair hides, swamped in shadows. But where there are shadows, there is also light.
Remy He has everything but my name and he wants it. I have nothing but my name and I can’t give it up. He will try to take it from me and I will try to resist.
James She’s bewitched me and I want her All of her. She has no choice. She can give it to me freely or I will take it from her.
The slave will be mine. (Nik wrote that line. Chills again!!! Wish I had free socks to warm my feet…)
Safeword will be officially released on March 29th! Chances are another of my blog updates will also be released. Coincidence? Possibly. Or am I sly as a fox… ?
RR
Other things you should know. I’m still stalking my new guy, but it’s a lot of work stalking two guys at once. I’m committed at this point and I don’t want to give up the new guy. He’s got a pretty fucking nice accent. But I can’t give up RR. We have so much in common… like… we’re both Canadian. And Ryan, I watched the Green Hornet… no… Lantern. It was Green Lantern, right?
If you haven’t already read Shattered, Running with the Devil Book 7, you should. Word on the street is that it’s pretty fucking good. Okay, not on the street… just me, I’m saying it. It’s pretty fucking good.
I’m off now, just for the day. In my land it’s 5:54pm and I’ve been at this since 7:00am. I don’t mind, I love writing and I love everything connected to it. But there’s a bottle of red wine calling my name and I’ve learned from experience, drinking and social media don’t mix. Way too many opportunities to say what I really think and last time I did that, I had to lawyer up.
Have a great day, where ever you are and thank you for being part of my world. It’s a pretty big fucking planet and it’s so cool that we can connect with each other, form friendships, experience kindness and have a lot of fucking fun!
Hey RR, drop by!
Love Jasmin
I just love you guys. Ok. Confession time. I started drinking a 1/2 hour ago. But it isn’t the wine talking. I swear it. You’re the best… okay maybe the wine’s talking a little bit. I gotta quit drinking the French reds. L’Amour
Jasmin Quinn Writes Romance 