Where do you hail from and what do you love most about your hometown?
I come from Toronto, Canada and still love close by. I loved growing up in Toronto. It is a multicultural city with fabulous restaurants and theater, walking trails and countryside near by. You can wander the city streets forever and never get tired, but you can also escape into the peace and quiet, which is nice.
As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Just about everything! It fluctuated daily! LOL. I wanted to be a flight attendant for a long time, even researched how to be one for a school project. I finally changed my mind when I realized I wasn’t tall enough or skinny enough (this was back in the 70’s when they had age/height/weight restrictions!) My writing aspirations didn’t come until a little later.
Tell us about your latest book.
The Selkie is about a Canadian woman who has lost everything: job, fiancé and family. She travels to Orkney, Scotland to handle her dead grandmother’s estate. While there, she discovers her gran has left her a peculiar inheritance, in the shape of a seal “selkie” pelt…and a “selkie” man to go with it. She is convinced this man is crazy. However, as the selkie tries to persuade her of his true nature, and as they battle their unwanted feelings for one another, they meet with misfortune. Someone else wants the selkie pelt, and will stop at nothing to get it.
I have a few paranormal romances based on myths about Greek gods. My previous books, For the Love of a God and Sweet Hell, were my takes on the gods of love and wine. I have just submitted another to my publisher about the dishy Apollo, and am so excited!!
Is there anything you find particularly challenging about writing?
The scheduling can be daunting at times. It is very hard to squeeze in promotion and family life and writing, and stay energetic and inspired. I love it when I have a quiet day during which my only obligation is to write. Those are wonderful days. J
What advice would you give to writers just starting out?
Write what you love. I know it’s not original advice, but is so essential. If you don’t feel the story, if you don’t cry at the tragedies and beam at the glories of your book, no one else will. It has to really mean something to you.
Do you ever suffer from writer's block? If so, what do you do about it?
Absolutely! The best thing for me to do is distance myself from the manuscript. I grab a coffee, go for a walk, think about other things. And I try not to stress about it. Eventually everything works out.
Who is your favorite author and why?
I love so many! I have to say my number 1 is Diana Gabaldon. Her Outlander series has captivated me like no other ever has. The research, the historical detail, and the exquisite love story between Claire and Jamie Fraser is one I’ll never forget.
How did you deal with rejection letters?
I read ‘em. I thank that person in my head. And I put ‘em away.
You cannot dwell on negativity.
What tools do you feel are must-haves for writers?
A thesaurus (my fave tool). A good computer. And an imagination!
Where do you as an author draw the line on gory descriptions and/or erotic content?
Well, I don’t do gory, but I love doing sex scenes. So far, I haven’t written anything taboo. My love stories are between couple who end up truly loving and living for one another. In that context, I feel pretty comfortable exploring their sexuality. I don’t have a problem with curse words or anatomical descriptions. It’s all part of the fun!
What's the weirdest thing you've ever done in the name of research?
LOL! Nothing too bizarre yet, but my career is still young! I’m open to almost anything! In my book Sweet Hell, much of it takes place in a bakery, which is based on a bakery I worked in as a teenager. It was so fun drawing from that experience.
Let me tell you a story...
The Selkie - Blurb:
This was supposed to be her year. However, after losing her job and discovering her fiancé cheating, Maggie Collins has her doubts. When her grandmother dies, she hits rock bottom. Maggie travels to her grandmother’s home in Orkney, Scotland to sort through her gran’s things, only to discover the old woman has left her a seal pelt as her inheritance. She also learns that others are after the pelt.
To add to her frustration, Maggie’s dreams are filled with luscious images of a long-haired man, images that draw her to the magical beaches in Orkney. Although she’s lost her trust in men, this dream man inspires her with a lust she’s never known before.
Calan Kirk has also been dreaming. Dreaming of Maggie, the mortal woman who arouses him as no other woman ever has. Meeting her in the flesh when she arrives in Orkney is nothing short of spontaneous sexual combustion. But she is a human, and not to be trusted. He needs the seal pelt, not a red-haired temptress.
As a thief ransacks Maggie’s grandmother’s house, Maggie and Calan are thrust together. They must search for the animal skin, a mythical relic which once found, will either bring them together or rip them apart forever.
She was attempting to stand on her wobbly legs, only to fall back down on her bottom, when she heard the sound of splashing water. Thinking it was her seal, Maggie turned to look.
Her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t the animal at all.
It was a man. He was rising out of the waves, walking toward her. She froze. He was nude, utterly nude, and was staring at her with overflowing intimacy. As if they’d had, God help her, relations.
And she realized, with sudden panic, they’d had! In her dreams. He was the seal-man from all her sex dreams.
Her first instinct was to call for help, but there was no one near. And then she realized with frightening awareness that she didn’t want any help anyway. Glued to her spot, she couldn’t help but drink him in.
He was beautiful, if unnervingly wet and naked. He had long, shiny, brown hair that hung down past his shoulders. His face could have belonged on an ad for expensive cologne, and he had a body to match. Sculpted shoulders gave way to arms corded in muscle. His defined chest was blanketed by a smattering of sparse, brown hair that led tantalizingly to his rock-hard abs.
Maggie held her breath as her gaze traveled lower on his body, taking in trim calves and thighs a quarterback would envy. And, she noted with simultaneous hunger and horror, his penis was the biggest she’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. It was thick and long and glistening with the droplets of water that yet cascaded over his body. And it seemed to be reaching for her. She gulped, and forced herself to look back up at his face.
There was a faint glow about his skin, a shimmery aura. Dismissing it as a trick of the moonlight, she shook her head.
He was almost upon her, and his full lips were taut in a teasing grin. Maybe he was a surfer who’d lost not only his board, but his shorts in the waves. She knew she should be frantic, but wasn’t. There was something in his brown eyes that was so familiar, so soothing, even as they swept over her own body with lustful appreciation.
He stopped in front of her, and stood boldly, unashamed of his glorious nakedness. She managed to spit out one hushed word. “You.”
“You,” was his equally awed reply.