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?
… 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.
Dear masked marauders and everyone else these days!
At the risk of sounding too over-the-top, there is one advantage of wearing masks (aside from… you know… preventing the spread of Cov-id). You can tell if your fresh and minty breath is actually fresh and minty. It works like this:
Mr. Quinn: I’m horny.
Jasmin: About time!
Jasmin dons mask, breathes out with mouth, inhales through nose. Wishes she were the heroine in a romance novel, because those bitches never have bad breath. Goes to bathroom and brushes teeth.
Returns to living room to find Mr. Quinn naked except for the mask he’s wearing as an eye patch and the parrot on his shoulder.
Mr. Quinn: Let’s play walk the plank!
Jasmin (new game, same stupid parrot): Sure, but not with the parrot.
Mr. Quinn (stands with the cuffs): He’s my first mate, wench! Hands behind your back!
Since I’m not getting out a lot, I’ve started a quest for sexy vegetables. I’m not eliminating fruit, but it’s sexy already. Ripe peaches, juicy watermelons, pear-shaped ass, popping the cherry, and of course, is that a banana in your pocket or are you happy to see me?
The romantic in me loves this picture of carrot love. Click on the pic for the article about why vegetarians make better lovers. BTW: apparently most condoms aren’t vegan!
Before we move on to the very important news, I want share the discovery of 100 million year old sperm that was making headlines on September 17th. Seriously, every major news outlet carried the story.
Why? Because it’s about sperm, and not just old sperm, but also big sperm. And big sperm equals big balls which very likely equals a huge dick! At least that’s why I read the articles. All of them.
Yes. It was chaos back then. Not like now.
On to the best news!House of Shadowshas been released! Why is it such a big deal? Because it’s the 12th and final book the my Running with the Devil Series. I’m excited about the end, but having trouble letting go. That means that next year, I plan to publish two novellas.
Owen’s instant attraction to Mel, the woman he hires to investigate his father’s past, adds complications to his already tumultuous life. Mel’s past has left her scarred and vulnerable, and though she has all the skills she needs to fight the enemy of the day, she has no defense against her desire for Owen Scott.
More awesome news! If you’re not already signed up for my newsletter, get cracking! There are giveaways if you’re a subscriber including the chance to win 1 of 5 $10 Amazon gift cards. If I get 200 new sign-ups, one lucky subscriber will win an awesome gift basket!
Some of my books got a makeover last week, including Black Surrender, which has new title to go with it’s awesome new look! Isn’t it beautiful?
I did a little housecleaning with the all my books, updating back matter and a few bits and pieces. A couple of new covers and all my books are now available in paperback.
I have finally put my books into boxsets. Aren’t they pretty? Each collection has four books and Running with the Devil Books 9-12 will be available December 11, 2020. Amazon and I tussled over these and I’m embarrassed to admit, they broke me. It’s not often I beg, unless Mr. Quinn insists, but Mr. Amazon got me down on my knees. It worked though, because as of this posting they are all available (I hope).
What’s next for Jas, you wonder? Or maybe not, but I wonder. I’m kidding. I know what’s next.
First of all, I’ve gone wide. In the hips, yes, but also my books are now for sale on Amazon and Kobo, and soon, you’ll be able to buy them on Google, Apple, and Barnes & Noble. Unfortunately, going wide means I can no longer offer them for free in the Kindle Unlimited program.
Second, I’m putting together my publishing plan for 2021. Of course, I’ll be publishing a couple of Darkness Falls books. In February, Ulrich and Aubrey’s story gets told in Primal Heat. This book has been fun to write – I’m kind of in love with Ulrich. Primal Heat is available to preorder on Amazon and Kobo! And Leah finally gets her book sometime next summer. Is she really batshit crazy, or is there a vulnerable woman underneath that insane veneer? Stay tuned.
Finally, I’ve got a new series in the works that will be a whole lot of fun. Still romantic, steamy, spicy, plus blatantly humorous in a very biting way (I hope). That plus the two RWD novellas and at least two Darkness Falls books will keep me busy and out of trouble.
Oh yes, and my free book, Fearless, for my Newsletter is almost done. I had wanted it finished before House of Shadows was released, but it lost ground on my list of priorities. Everyone who subscribes to my newsletter will get a copy of this 65,000 word book.
I’m hoping I can finalize it before Christmas.
That’s all I got. Stay safe, friends and eat your vegetables.
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.
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.
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?).
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.
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….
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?
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.
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.
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).
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?
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?
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***
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,
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.
I know what you’re thinking. The fuck is wrong with Jasmin, coming up with a shit greeting like that? Well, for starters, I’m blocked and not in that constipated way that uses up more toilet paper than is wise right now.
I’m writing Book 11 of my Running with the Devil Series and I’m behind schedule a little bit because my head is focusing on things I can’t control and suppressing the creative part of my brain, which by the way, is very small and easily wrangled into a corner and hogtied.
Which is why I’ve turned to blogging. I’m just going to let the verbal diarrhea spew and see what shit comes out. I don’t know what’s with the potty humour, truly. It’s not me – I like it dirty, but as you know, the only bodily functions below the waistline that I’m fond of are orgasms.
I’m also eating those little foiled wrapped chocolate Easter eggs, which generally don’t go well with red wine, but somehow, I’m making it work.
Bijou Hunter is in the house!
If you’ve managed to get through that horrible introduction, that means you are officially at the interesting part of the blog, mostly because the rest of this is devoted to Bijou Hunter, a fantastic writer of MC books that are dark and romantic and at the same time, funny as hell. If you like MC and you haven’t yet read Bijou, I highly recommend her.
While Bijou abhors ass kissing, I think that’s what got her to agree to the interview. I’m a good ass kisser, so much so, that people are seldom aware I’m doing it, unless of course, I’m not using it as a figure of speech, but literally doing it, lips on skin. Then it’s all about the thrills and chills, although I’ll save those details for another blog.
I find Ms. Hunter’s book’s highly addictive, in that when I start to read one, I can’t put it down. The good news is that Bijou has an impressive catalogue, which could keep a person distracted from current events for several days.
Bijou and I were planning to virtually meet at a Denny’s in Indianapolis, Indiana, and though I know the key word is virtually, given the travel restrictions and current social distancing requirements, we elected to virtually stay at home and behave ourselves, but only in the stay at home sense. Other than that, I’ve been bad, very, very bad.
Having said that, I did run a background check on Indianapolis and found out three important details.
Indianapolis is either hard to spell or everyone is spelling it wrong but me.
John Dillinger, the notorious criminal, was born in Indianapolis and while he died in Chicago, he is buried in Crown Hill Cemetery in Indianapolis.
And Wonder Bread of Indianapolis was the first to publicly market sliced bread. This is the fact that I should have started with given that sliced bread made the ‘80s so much better. And all the decades before and after, but particularly the ‘80s.
Ms. Hunter may not agree with my choices of the most important facts about Indianapolis, but since she’s not here to stop me, from writing them, I’m good to go (virtual sucks, hey Bijou?).
In honour of our interview, I ordered takeout from Denny’s while I composed this blog. Why Denny’s, you ask? Because Bijou denies she owns a Denny’s, but wanted us to meet there for the interview. I had the Parmesan Chicken Sizzlin’ Skillet because it has brussels sprouts (another word I’ve been spelling wrong, apparently) in it and really, who doesn’t love some crispy brussels sprouts? I’m only sort of joking.
I started the interview with some lightweight questions, mostly because I really wanted to know the answers.
JASMIN: Bijou, thank you for doing this interview with me. Tell me, who are you wearing?
BIJOU: Jeans, tie-dyed shirt, sneakers. My hair is currently purple.
JASMIN: So you’re wearing Prince?
JASMIN: You know, the singer?
There’s a long uncomfortable pause between the two of us while we sort out each other. Since it doesn’t appear that Bijou is willing to comment on the designer of her attire, I move on to a tough question.
JASMIN: In your own words, please explain what a fapsock is for those of us who lead sheltered lives or live in Canada.
BIJOU: The sock fellas use to collect the manna from heaven their magic lamps squirt after a little stroking.
JASMIN: Is this a well-kept secret or am I the only romance writer out there that had no idea that fapping is the new idiom for masturbation? Or, alternatively, are you the only romance writer aware of this?
BIJOU: I don’t know how common the term is in romance books, but I hear/read men use the word on Reddit and other forums. I try to give each series its specific slang. Like the fricking/frigging/fucking debates from Rawkfist MC and White Horse. Or the term “baller” from the Rawlins Heretics MC series. People in real life usually pick up terms from their friends, so I try to give each group some kind of slang or quirk that belongs to them.
JASMIN: I don’t understand what’s wrong with the tried and true “jerking off”. It too can be insulting (jerk-off as a noun, not as a verb as in to jerk oneself off). In this new world order, if I call someone a fapsock, I’m basically referring to them as a jizz-encrusted footwarmer. Is that correct?
BIJOU: Yes, you’re basically calling a woman a whore if you call her a fapsock. Like a cum dumpster or a jizz receptacle.
For anyone interested in seeing fapsock used in context, please refer to Bijou’s recently published book, I’m With You.
JASMIN: Speaking of new books, you’ve been extremely busy in 2020, publishing three books already. What else do you have planned for the rest of the year?
BIJOU: Well, back in 2013, I wrote Damaged and the Outlaw. In the book, an enforcer and his fertile honey fell in love. They went on to have eight kids. The rest of this year will be spent giving happily ever afters to most of their hippie ninja offspring.
JASMIN: I remember the book. They end up having eight children, don’t they?
BIJOU: Yes. That’s what I just said.
JASMIN: I knew I heard it somewhere. I won’t ask why they had eight children. Clearly this is a work of fiction. Let’s keep this going. How many books a year do you generally publish?
BIJOU: I average about six, one every two months. As much as I wish to be one of those super productive authors, that’s a skill set I don’t possess.
JASMIN: One every two months is quite prolific, given the stellar quality of the books you produce. What are you currently working on? When will you unveil it to the world? What else have you got planned for your readers for 2020?
BIJOU: I’m writing My Silver Lining. The hero is the first-born son of the Outlaw couple. After its release in May, I’ll finish the Reapers MC: Shasta Chapter with the romance of the daughter of the couple from Damaged and the Bulldog.
JASMIN: I cannot wait (yes, I can, because nothing will happen to me even if I can’t). Which book(s) that you’ve written to date is your favourite and why?
BIJOU: Um, that’s difficult to answer. I enjoyed writing MJ in Down to my Bones. I have a soft spot for weirdos. The most fun to write would be any of the White Horse or Rawkfist MC books because they’re swimming with snark. The most challenging to write was the Spent Shells Duet that came out this year. Mainly because the plot structure was different than I’d written before.
JASMIN: My favourite books of yours are Down to My Bones and Don’t Do Me Wrong, which we’ll cross paths with later in the interview. I enjoy reading anything you write, but these two stayed with me long after I finished them. Having said that, I thoroughly enjoyed the Spent Shells Duet and the trip down memory lane with Gator and Mia. It prompted me to reread their story.
What genres do you enjoy reading? Do you have favourite authors outside the romance and erotica genres?
BIJOU: Romance obviously, but I stick mainly to romantic suspense and some PNR (paranormal). I also like urban fantasy and horror. When I was reading more UF (urban fantasy), I enjoyed Ilona Andrews and Darynda Jones. Like most people my age, I grew up reading Stephen King. However, I don’t have the patience for his 1000-page monsters anymore.
JASMIN: I agree with you about Stephen King. It’s been a while since I’ve picked up a book of his. Are there other things readers can look forward to this year that are unrelated to your books? Do you plan to involve yourself in a nationwide scandal that will have people tweeting #bijousbaildenied? If not that kind of scandal, then what scandal can we expect from you?
BIJOU: Fuck no. I’m the anti-scandal girl. I’m far more likely to disappear off the face of the earth and have only a few people notice.
JASMIN: I would notice and so would your many readers. And I’m not sure about your anti-scandal position. Someone who can define fapsock as coolly as you did, has some serious mojo. Maybe you should write an urban dictionary since the current one doesn’t include fapsock.
BIJOU: I think I’ll let the youngsters handle the Urban Dictionary since they’re so keen on new words.
JASMIN: My proofreader is the type of professional expert that doesn’t tell, but shows, which is why I think she introduced me to your books (see how good I am at backhanded compliments?). I’m glad she did though because you have a large portfolio, which made me a happy girl for several months.
However, your books have raised a number of burning questions. Let’s start with the titles for your books. I find them engaging, which is highly important for a writer. How do you come up with them?
BIJOU: Some are song titles that I liked or lyrics that hit the right note. I keep a list of possible titles in an excel sheet, where I log character names, place names, etc.
JASMIN: I do that too. And on scraps of paper, ink on my hand, and once on a bar of chocolate. Do you have a habitual word that crops up in your writing all the time? I tend to overuse ‘just’ and ‘little’ and several other words, but this is your interview not mine.
BIJOU: I use the word “pretty” too much. “That’s pretty baller.” “You’re pretty hot.” That type of thing. Slang-wise, I use the term “dig” far too often. Like it’s forever the 1970’s, man. Can you dig it?
JASMIN: I can dig it. I like the term “baller”. At first, I thought it meant awesome, but now I’m thinking that’s wrong. It’s better than awesome. It’s like super-awesome. So the term baller is baller. Am I right?
BIJOU: Yep, it’s another way of saying awesome.
JASMIN: I understand from one of your personalities, that you have several voices in your head that help you write your books. Tell me a little about them. Do they all talk at once? How do you shut them up? In which part of your brain do they reside?
BIJOU: The dark voice demands to see people overcome life’s trials. The snarky voice wants to witness people in goofy scenarios. There’s an action voice who wants to punch people and shoot stuff. Sometimes, they work together. Other times, they fight for prominence. I shut them up by binging on YouTube movie review videos.
JASMIN: YouTube is a black hole of hell that sucks people in and keeps them awake until the wee hours of the morning. Speaking of snark, you’re very good at writing it. Are you a snarky person in real life?
BIJOU: Yes, I’m a snarky chick. Though I’m not the life of the party, I will huddle in the corner with my favored person and snark away. I’m essentially Chandler from Friends. Could I be any more obnoxious?
JASMIN: I know you hate ass kissing, but it truly is one of my favourite activities, although I prefer the passive-aggressive method. I love your books because your characters are perfectly imperfect, the dialogue is fantastic, and you are an excellent storyteller. Your books have some elements of suspense and intrigue, but mostly they’re romances. Still mixing them with an MC world adds the perfect amount of bad boy in the male characters. Notice, no passive aggressiveness, just plain old ass kissery.
Why did you decide to use the MC world (primarily) as your settings for your books?
BIJOU: I enjoy the freedom of characters living on the edge of society. While there are plenty of criminal organizations to choose from, I feel most of my characters’ grounded struggles fit best in the MC world.
JASMIN: You’re a risk taker with your characters. Don’t do me Wrong: Reapers MC: Conroe Chapter Book 1was a standout book for me because of Sissy. It was one of those books that stayed with me long after I finished it, primarily because I was upset at the people around her for not giving her the support she needed to recover from her father’s abuse. How was this story initially received by your readers? Did you take any flack for calling her “The Dummy”?
BIJOU: It’s important to me for my characters to own their flaws. I’m sure there were readers who didn’t like Sissy being called The Dummy. Calling her The Ditz might have been easier for readers to digest, but that wasn’t how she viewed herself or the name she grew up hearing. Part of Sissy’s journey was accepting who she was (growing up poor/abused, not being particularly bright) without shame. Often times, building a happy life isn’t about fixing yourself but accepting yourself, flaws and all.
JASMIN: Nice sentiments and well-said. Sissy was well-developed as an abused child/woman. There were so many aspects of this particular book that you nailed including the apathy many of the supporting characters had towards her simply because of who her father was. I guess I wished for her to not let her abuse define her intelligence. I wanted her to rise above it because the concept of intelligence is a lens that others view you through, and if you hear that you’re stupid enough times, you start to believe it about yourself. Having said that, the way the story progressed and ultimately ended was what made it powerful.
BIJOU: That’s a valid point about not wanting her abuse to define her intelligence. It comes down to perspective. If you believe Sissy is a dumb woman with qualities outside of intelligence, then she came into her own in the book. If you feel as if she was a woman of normal intelligence who believed she was dumb because of abuse, then she never reached her potential. I’m sure readers fall on both sides of that question.
JASMIN: Let’s move to some lighter conversation starting with the requisite Murder, Fuck, Marry question.
Which of your characters would you murder?
BIJOU: I know he has a small following with my hardcore readers and gained some redemption in his son’s book, but I’d kill Tucker Johansson in a heartbeat. He’s always been a pain in my ass.
JASMIN: Oh poor Tucker. He’s a good choice. Who would you fuck?
BIJOU: That’s tough, but I’d probably choose Angus Hayes. Mostly, I’m extremely curious about the size considerations. I know his son, Cap, is bigger, but he’s far too young for a woman my age to molest.
JASMIN: Hmmm, yeah. Angus (of Junkyard Dog fame) is one of my favourite of the men you’ve written, for exactly the reasons you mentioned. His maturity, along with his other assets, is very appealing. I like his gruffness too and the fact that he’s highly intimidating. Who would you marry?
BIJOU: Probably Chipper Wilburn. He’s the right kind of supportive and snarky for my taste. Plus, he likes cats, makes homemade pizzas, and has a snazzy house.
JASMIN: I’ve read all your books but one, which is a lie, since I discovered more when I forgot who Chipper was and had to search him out. Chipper is the main male character in Booze O’Clock (White Horse Book 3) and now I have to reread that one too. I think I’ll just reread them all.
Someone mentioned that you have a bad memory, but I can’t recall who said it. Let’s see if the wench who ratted you out is actually right about your recall ability.
The following are lines you wrote. Without looking them up, provide the book title and character speaking.
“With the new flooring and updated kitchen, it’s pretty fucking baller.”
BIJOU: I guessed this was one of the Rawlins Heretics MC books because of the word “baller.” I checked, and it’s Devil’s Ruin.
JASMIN: You are correct.
“What makes you think it’s cold?” she asks, mimicking my smile. “I’ve been thinking about you fucking me since we got back to the room. That’s a lot of heat built up between my legs. Hell, I’m surprised the countertop isn’t sizzling.”
BIJOU: Not a fucking clue.
JASMIN: This one is from Whiskey Blues (Serrated Brotherhood MC Book 2) – Ruby is speaking.
“Your lips say frick off, but your nipples are saying suck me. Bite me a little too. Make me hard and then take that tongue down between the nice lady’s legs so my friend Pussy can enjoy you too.”
JASMIN: Yup – the dialogue you write is so much fun to read. Another of my favourite lines from this book is Vaughn telling Raven, “You’re mine. If you leave, I’ll chase you. If you run, I’ll chase faster. If you let me catch you, I’ll make you my slave.” That’s serious romantic shit right there.
“Colton can do a hundred push-ups,” she says, pulling a random nugget of information from her head. “Can you?”
JASMIN: Nice job. And four dogs are never too many, by the way.
And the last one: I don’t know much about myself, but I’m looking into it. Apparently, I make stupid videos with my friends. One is called Mortal Komedy.
BIJOU: I got nothing.
JASMIN: That was a trick question; it’s a quote by Phelan Porteous.
About Bijou’s Life
JASMIN: How do you observe the Easter holidays? With chocolate bunnies and coloured eggs, continuing to perpetuate the lies all parents tell their children about unseen beings that sneak into their children’s bedrooms, take their teeth, eat their cookies, and kiss their mothers under the mistletoe and then wonder why their offspring are afraid of the dark? Or other?
BIJOU: I really don’t do anything for Easter and not just because of the childhood trauma you described.
JASMIN: You live with your mother. How’s that going?
BIJOU: Her presence in my life invigorates the voices in my head.
JASMIN: I’ve lived with my mother too. For the first several years of my life and then later, when she got kicked out of her apartment for scaring the neighbours. Moving along, I’ve been told that you’ve never married and yet you own three sons. Can you explain how that came about? Did someone drop them off on your doorstep along with a basket of cats or did you have to go somewhere to get them?
BIJOU: I had sex, Jas. See, when a man and a woman like each other to a certain degree, sometimes they get naked and…
JASMIN: Oh, I see. It’s that way, is it? Seems like a lot of work. Getting someone to deliver them in a basket all at once seems quicker and a lot less messy. I won’t ask anymore questions about your offspring, mostly because I don’t want to.
I used to work at Bob’s Burgers when I was a young lass, prior to becoming a famous Canadian. Regarding Bob’s Burgers, the TV show, which cast member would you invite to be a character in one of your books. Explain your choice.
BIJOU: Gene’s snark and enthusiasm for OTT behavior would really fit in with my characters. I’d have to sexy him up a little, though. No offense, but that hair ain’t working, kiddo.
JASMIN: In 2013, TV Guide ranked Bob’s Burgers as one of the top 60 Greatest TV Cartoons of All Time. Apparently, there were only 60 TV Cartoons ever made to that point, so it’s quite an accomplishment. What exactly is it that you like about this TV cartoon?
BIJOU: The humor obviously, but they’re also a family that’s crazy about each other. The three kids are best friends, always backing each other up on nutty adventures. The parents are just as wild as their kids (rather than being the exasperated elders tisk-tisking the kids’ antics). Basically, they are the cartoon equivalent of my snarkier families in White Horse and Rawkfist MC.
JASMIN: I’m ashamed to say I’ve never watched Bob’s Burgers before you mentioned it. I was able to track down a snippet of a u-tube video of it. I think it was a Christmas special and over my head (not really, but I needed a segue). Speaking of other things over my head (see, perfect seque), when you were a child and you saw a falling star, what did you wish for?
BIJOU: World peace and donuts.
JASMIN: Nice. I’m not nearly as selfless as you. I always wished for a bucket of chocolate ice cream that I wouldn’t have to share with anyone. These days, it’s the same wish, except I want vanilla ice cream with a side of maple syrup.
I think you are warmed up enough to tackle some tough questions. I can feel your body heat all the way from Indiana, so here goes. If a homeless chicken named Dumpling was vomiting up a pumpkin-spice café latte in your kitchen, how would you cope with her?
BIJOU: First, I would worry for Dumpling’s safety since my cat, Rainbow, would fucking slaughter her. After I got the chicken to safety (much like the time I had to relocate a duckling from our backyard), I’d get my oldest son to clean up the pumpkin-spice crap before the smell made me puke.
JASMIN: You are a kind person to the chicken, not so much to the boy. Next question. Since you deny owning a Denny’s franchise, explain why Denny’s keeps popping up in your early books?
BIJOU: You know those hipster douches who sit at coffee shops and write their magnum opus? Well, that was me except that I was a middle-aged chick writing romances at a Denny’s. I had a favorite waitress (Sabie) and would only go when she was working. I’d stay for a few hours, writing and editing. After gaining three hundred pounds, I decided I might need fewer pancakes in my life. Now I write at home.
JASMIN: Thank you for your honesty. Are you a hippie? I think you’re too young to be an official hippie, but is hippiness in your genes? Should I be asking your mother this question?
BIJOU: I prefer the term “bohemian” to hippie. As for my mom’s opinion, if you choose to ask her, you best block out a few hours from your day because the woman’s never known a story that she couldn’t make longer.
JASMIN: I know people like that. I call them the Why say it in three words when you can say it in 15 type of people. I’m sure your mom’s a lovely woman, but chatty mothers are on my list of things not to get tangled up with. Speaking of mothers, what’s your favourite horror movie? How many times have you seen it? Why is it your favourite?
BIJOU: I love horror movies, so picking just one is tough, but the ones I’ve seen the most are “The Thing” and “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” (1978). What they share in common are great soundtracks, casts, and writing. I love the sense of increasing dread along with the characters’ growing sense of isolation as the people around them change. I’d say I’ve seen “The Thing” the most. Maybe fifty times over the years, which sounds like a lot but I’m 47 and it used to air on TV a lot.
JASMIN: My bladder is too weak to handle horror movies, although for some odd reason, I do like The Grudge and will watch it when it’s on. Also, the Alien franchise if it counts as a horror movie?
BJ: The first “Alien” is definitely a horror movie. The Grudge is creepy AF too. Oh, and good luck with that weak bladder problem, btw.
JASMIN: Thank you. Can you name four other famous Canadians besides me?
BIJOU: Easy. The cast of The Kids in the Hall: Dave Foley, Kevin McDonald, Bruce McCulloch, Mark McKinney, and Scott Thompson. That’s five Canadians crushing your head right there.
JASMIN: Man, did I not see that coming, probably because I’ve never seen The Kids in the Hall. Or if I have, I don’t remember. I hope that doesn’t get me thrown out of Canada. Time to shift directions. There are quite a number of dogs in your books, and yet you own three cats. Do you not like your cats? Do you wish they were dogs?
BIJOU: I prefer cats, but not all characters can be cat people. Just like how most of my characters used to drink soda and never coffee because I hate coffee and love soda. Eventually, I had to shake things up. Hence, a lot of dog people.
JASMIN: How interesting. There isn’t a single cat in any of my books, not because I don’t like cats. Like children and mothers, I tolerate them. What does your cat, Rainbow, think of his name?
BIJOU: He goes by Bow-Bow most days, which is super tough and shit, so he forgives my youngest son for naming a black and white cat Rainbow.
JASMIN: Are you sure Rainbow forgives your son? He’s a cat after all and that makes everything he says and does suspect.
BIJOU: BIJOU: Bow-Bow’s an asshole. If he was still pissed, we’d all know it.
JASMIN: What would your cats say about you if I asked them for a reference?
BIJOU: Pixie would say, “Mine.” Tinker would say, “Eh, the boy is better.” Bow-Bow would say, “Wait, which one is she?”
JASMIN: Exactly. See my point above. Let’s talk about your mother’s dog. You’re on record as referring to him as ugly. Can you describe him, so my readers have an understanding of his ugliness?
BIJOU: Rafe was a puggle with a bug eyes and a smooshed nose. He was spoiled AF and followed my mom around all day. We had him for fifteen years. Unfortunately, he’s no longer with us. Rafe’s been peeing on furniture in doggy heaven since January.
JASMIN: I’m sorry to hear about Rafe. Maybe he’s hanging out with my dogs, Piper and Sammy, thought I doubt it. Piper’s a stuck-up bitch and Sammy does whatever Piper tells him to do. Next question. If you could redesign the food pyramid, how would it look?
BIJOU: I’d keep it just the way it is and continue to ignore its existence.
JASMIN: Good answer. What would your perfect murder weapon be and why?
BIJOU: That pencil move from John Wick was pretty sweet. Hmm… I don’t know if it’s a perfect murder weapon, but I once broke a guy’s nose with a dust buster.
JASMIN: Now I have to rewatch John Wick. I think a dust buster is a perfectly good murder weapon providing it’s fully charged.
JASMIN: If peanut butter wasn’t called peanut butter, what would it be called? Explain your answer
BIJOU: Sticky brown goo. I figure that would go over as well as when diary farmers wanted to rename almond milk “nut juice.”
JASMIN: Did they really? I drink a lot of nut juice… hmm, I see why it didn’t stick. A penguin wearing a sombrero walks through your front door. What does he say and why is he there?
BIJOU: He’s clearly drunk and at the wrong house. The lost lush will likely scream obscenities as my cats attempt to feast on him. If he survives, I’ll call him an Uber.
JASMIN: Note to penguins: Avoid Indianapolis. Who would win a battle between a ninja and a pirate?
BIJOU: Ninja, for sure, with all that badass training. The pirate would probably be too drunk to do much anyway. However, if it’s a battle of STDs, I’d give the win to the pirate.
JASMIN: I like pirates and always wanted to be ravaged by one, but the STDs is a non-starter. Now I have to revise my bucket list. Is there anything else I should ask you or that you would like to add?
BJ: Nope. Your questions are awesomesauce!
JASMIN: Your answers are awesomesauce! You… awesomesauce person, you.
Bijou Hunter is a romance 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.
Her books are available on Amazon, Kobo, B&N, Apple, and Google. She’s also published m/m romance under the pen, Ily Jacks and paranormal/horror under the pen, Tatiana Xavi.
You can connect with Bijou at the following links:
Book 11 of Running with the Devil was originally going to be called Mr. Master, but I’ve changed the title to Duplicity. It’s a better fit, I think. I’m loving the rollicking adventures of Mr. Jackman and Brook Lafferty. Lots of snark, heat and action. But no cover yet and I’m not sure when I’ll have it up for presales. Probably when I have a cover.
Other mentionables? I’m doing my best to stick to my publishing schedule for this year, which means a busy summer, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be doing any camping (as if), so I’ll write instead.
I’m taking a break from blogging author interviews because I’m jug’s deep working on my books and I want to concentrate on a couple of other projects. Thank you to my girls, DD Prince, Annabel Joseph, Nikita Slater, and Bijou Hunter for playing with me.
I hope you’re all doing as well as you can in this trying time and that you are able to stay connected with friends and family through social media and other digital means.
Thank you to the delivery people who bring me wine and pizza and to all the front line workers who are keeping the doors open, the lights on, the sick comforted and the buses moving.
Stay strong, stay isolated and stay hydrated.
A few facts regarding things I said in this interview:
My mother did get kicked out of her apartment for scaring the neighbours and moved in with me.
2. I had children, but they grew up and left me. They claim that doesn’t change their status as children, but I’m undecided.
3. I have never watched Kids in the Hall, The Titanic, or Bob’s Burgers, but I do watch some TV and am very much devoted to weird movies often set in foreign countries.
4. I do like pirates and still want to be ravaged by one, preferably without STDs.
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.
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.
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)?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
JQ (nodding fake-sagely): I hate them too now.
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.
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?
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: 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.
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.
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?
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.
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!
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.
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 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?
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>.
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 (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.
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.
I shiver for effect.
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.
JQ: Who would win?
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?
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”
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:
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!