You might remember me mentioning in a previous blog post that I received an invitation to join a new group blog called The Hot Pink Typewriter. It’s hosted by a team of romance writers at various stages of their career – I didn’t realise my invitees meant published, soon to be published or right on the cusp. Those of you who know I exude self-confidence will understand why I was a little intimidated to say the least.

These writers are a fabulous bunch, and posts appear regularly about writing and editing, interviews with authors, personal writing experiences and news of what’s happening in the romance world. This week I’ve written my first ever post on the mechanics of writing and have used a familiar scene from Beguiling The Enemy to illustrate. Please come over and visit if you have time.

xxx

I know I don’t usually blog on a Tuesday, but I wanted to say a massive thank you to everyone who has visited here since Sunday. The truth is I feel really mean making you email me for the chapter I offered. I know it’s extra hassle for you and I really appreciate those who have asked. In the interests of my day job though, I had to err on the side of caution.

Fortunately in this BTE scene I don’t. 🙂

Happy reading and thanks to everyone who continues to support me. xxx

Kane hadn’t even looked at her in the hour or so that had passed. His coldness only made what she was about to do harder. Caitlin clenched her hands in her lap as she watched him from the bed. No time yet had felt like the right time to approach him. But she knew no time would.

    She thought of the witness statements she’d read about his feeding habits. They were as contradictory as everything else produced about him. Some claimed him to be rough, brutal and insatiable, the sex acts that followed the feed equally fierce and self-sating. Others reported him to be sensual and considerate, but still controlling. None ever wanted to prosecute. All were happy to boast of their encounter. All said they’d offer themselves to him again.

    He stubbed out his second cigarette before standing from the sofa. Crossing the room to the kitchen, he re-emerged with a beer and a bottle of water. He placed the latter on the coffee table rather than take it over to her. She wondered if it was her cue to join him.

    Her thudding heart resonated in her ears as she forced herself off the edge of the bed. She stepped over to the sofa opposite his, tentatively sitting on the edge.

    Kane took a mouthful of beer, the solemnity in his eyes telling her she hadn’t been forgiven even if his anger had dissipated.

    She knew she couldn’t hesitate or she’d lose her nerve. ‘If you tell me what killed my parents, I’ll let you feed.’

    He lifted his eyebrows slightly in faint amusement. ‘Excuse me?’

    ‘You heard me.’

    ‘Yeah, I heard you. I just want you to say it again.’

    ‘It’s a fair exchange.’

    ‘You’re offering to let me feed? On you?’

     She nodded.

    ‘What happened to the systems and protocols?’

    ‘I want a name, Kane. I need to know.’ She dug her nails deeper into her perspiring palms. ‘Before you’re going to do whatever it is you’re planning to do, I want to know what it is.’

    He lifted his bottle steadily to his lips, took a slow mouthful then lowered it again, his gaze not flinching from hers as he subtly licked away the remnants. ‘I’d need to control you for every moment of the feed. Are you sure you can take that?’

    She couldn’t let her gaze falter. ‘More than sure.’

    Her stomach flipped at his flicker of a smile as he reverted his attention back to the TV.

    ‘This is not an open-ended offer, Kane.’

    He was a vampire. It should have been the easiest thing in the world to tempt him to bite.

    ‘What’s the problem?’ she asked, her tone laced with an urgency she hadn’t intended.

    His eyes snapped to hers again. ‘The problem is that I could forget myself, Caitlin. I could decide I want more than just your blood. Like you said, if I do anything you don’t like, it could jeopardise my plans. And believe me, during a feed I could do a lot of things you don’t like.’

    There was a stirring low in her abdomen at the threat, but she forced herself to focus on the significance of what else he’d said. ‘So you do need to get to my heart.’

    He narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘You do know what goes on in a dual feed, don’t you? A master vampire gets you to the height of arousal until all that built up energy gets fit to explode and then he bites – hard and fast. And just as you climax, at that exact moment, he drinks, taking every last shred of energy. You don’t remember who you are, where you are, you don’t even care. Humans can’t survive it. Even you shadow-readers, with your constantly self-generating energy, can only take so much. And I’m capable of taking more than you can even imagine.’

    She refused to look away despite every facet of common sense screaming at her to retreat. ‘But you won’t forget yourself, will you? Not if your need for vengeance is that strong.’

    ‘That’s still one hell of a risk you’re willing to take.’

    ‘I have nothing to lose, do I?’

    Her chest tightened as he held her gaze for an uncomfortable couple of seconds.

    ‘And you thought me trying to seduce you was tragic,’ he said. ‘You offering yourself to me in exchange for information you won’t be able to do anything with is what’s tragic, Caitlin.’ He lifted his bottle back to those sexy, bow lips. ‘It almost breaks my heart.’

    She slid her hands from her lap to grip the sofa either side of her thighs. ‘I just want to know what it is.’

    ‘You really want to trade that flawless skin for information you can do nothing with?’

    ‘Do you really want to turn down a free feed?’

    He licked the bottom of his lip as his gaze swept from her throat to her mouth. ‘I’d want to bite you full on,’ he declared, the intensity behind those navy eyes as they locked on hers telling her he meant every word. ‘No numbing. I’d want you to feel me go in. And I will hold you down. I can’t risk those magic fingers wandering.’

    She nodded despite knowing he was still angry enough to make this difficult for her. But she knew if she pulled away now, she was unlikely to regain the courage to offer herself to him again.

    Kane assessed her carefully for a few moments longer before pushing the coffee table aside with his foot, freeing the space between them. He placed his drink on the floor and leaned back, draping his arms over the back of the sofa. ‘Come here,’ he said, his gaze resting squarely on hers. 

It’s my birthday this week. I’m such a big kid when it comes to birthdays. While trying to work out how I could shamelessly squeeze my excitement into a blog, I realised it was 25 years ago this week that I officially embarked on my journey toward becoming an author.

I don’t know how long I’d persistently been telling my mum and dad that I was going to be an author when I grew up. I’d also told them that, for this to happen, a typewriter was absolutely (yes, absolutely) essential. On my 13^th birthday, it arrived. I was going to spend my life creating and writing stories. It felt like the most natural thing in the world for me to be doing (and still does). Of course, back then my vision wasn’t complicated by reality. An author wrote a book, that book got published and then the author wrote more books. Ah, the simplicity.

And here it is – my now faded, discoloured, not even sure if it still works (and I’m not risking trying!), electric typewriter down from the attic:

I tapped away on that typewriter for hours. It wasn’t the quietest of machines, and I only found out years later how it used to drive my mum and dad insane with the repetitive clunking vibrating through the ceiling every night and every weekend. I subjected my poor parents to that through the next five years of my school days, through uni (I still lived at home), until I eventually packed my bags and took my trusty typewriter to my very first flat when I embarked on my teaching career.

I produced a lot of work over the years as I tried to hone my skills and discover what type of writer I was. I spent most of my teenage years writing plays and sketches and performing them in the local church hall. I wrote a children’s novel, and a series of children’s books. I tried my hand at short stories in-between working on novels – horror, sci-fi, crime and romance were all genres I sampled. Sometimes it feels like it’s taken a very long time to find my niche. But as I wrote my first paranormal romance when I was 17, I think I’ve always known. The journey between then and now is a whole other story.

I still find it scary to think 25 years have passed since I unwrapped that present. My initial thought was that 25 years on, I still haven’t made it. But by saying that, I’m wrongly intimating the same for every other author out there who hasn’t signed on the dotted line yet. It’s during moments like that, when I put myself down, that I need to revert back to a time when I didn’t need a book deal or pay cheque to convince myself I was an author. Back when the only proof I needed was what I’d written on a blank page. More than that, it was my desire to keep filling those blank pages even when I didn’t know if they’d ever be read.

And that leads me on to the real purpose of this blog…

If you’ve been stalking this blog or following me on Twitter, you’ll know I’ve recently embarked on submissions. I’ve started getting Blood Roses out there and it’s Beguiling The Enemy’s turn this week. So as part of that, I’ve got a chapter of Beguiling The Enemy available for anyone who’d like to read it (please be over 18!). All you have to do is contact me over the next few days via my email on this blog or alternatively DM me, and I’ll send you the chapter as soon as I can. It’s 100% Kane and Caitlin, so if you enjoyed my New Voices entry, you’ll hopefully enjoy this too.

I’d love to hear from you.

xxx