Interview with Sidney Bristol


Thank you for joining me in the shadows. Pay no attention to that odd silhouette over there. Weird things live here.  
That’s okay. I’m pretty sure my ferocious, man eating cats will protect me. Or smother anything that breathes with their fur. Oh yuck, it’s in my mouth. Even I am not safe.
Where do you hail from?
The land of tiaras and chocolate covered men.
Oh wait, you’re serious?
I live in the middle of the Dallas-Ft Worth metroplex in central Texas.


Tell me about your latest book. What makes it stand out from the crowd?
My latest book released on July 19th, it’s titled The Harder He Falls and is the second installment in my So Inked series. The series is kind of like an LA Ink in Dallas, except my girls are pretty badass and fall in love. Eventually.
This book in particular is different in a few ways. When I wrote the first book I never anticipated writing a series, so I poured a lot of “me” into the book. I knew writing this book would be difficult because the heroine is bi-racial, being half Korean, and she’s the primary care giver for her grandmother who is in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s. And that’s just her! The hero is a mixed martial arts coach and single father. I not only get to delve into the intricacies of tattoo culture, but I get to talk about MMA, mixing cultures and my experiences with a family member with Alzheimer’s. It’s a pretty emotional book. I’ve never cried before when writing one, but I did with this one.
Do you have anything new in the works and can you tell us a bit about it?
This is still so new, I still can’t release all the details yet. I’m going to have a new series coming up that’s very much suspense romance, still with the erotic twist. I’m super excited to be writing something that will keep you on the edge of your seat.
What advice would you give to writers just starting out?
Write. Write when you feel like it. When you don’t. When there’s only five minutes. Build that discipline to put your butt in the chair and get the words out. All the craft in the world can’t help you when you don’t exercise that writing ability.
How did you deal with rejection letters? Any tips for unpublished writers?
With red velvet cake and tiara wearing.
No, really. I have a tiara shelf for Serious Writing Tiaras. In the case of a rejection, I need the added tiara power to work on a project.
Okay, I’ll be serious – while wearing my tiara, which yes, that does happen – I’ve been lucky to get very few rejections. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been rejected. There’s usually a moping period, where I’m disappointed, but it’s not personal. It’s a business choice. Once the moping is over, it’s time to evaluate where the project will fit best and submit it again.
Tips, keep spreadsheets of where you send what, the response and timeframe the replies are given. Those concrete stats help me. I also have a list of publishers and their guidelines arranged in order of my preference based on where I know I fit.
< span style="font-family:"font-size:12pt;">What tools of the trade are must-haves for you? 
I’m a pretty simple girl. Give me my laptop, a blank Word document and I’m ready. I do like to use OneNote for organizing information, the plot and other tidbits. I recently downloaded Scrivener, so that’s going to be part of my arsenal now.
What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done to research a story?
This year I enrolled in Citizen’s Police Academy for a future book in the So Inked series – and wound up with the material for my Good Guys Wear Black series!
What do you like to read?
A little bit of everything, really. I cut my teeth on science-fiction and fantasy as a teen and only discovered romance as an adult. I read a ton of the classics as a teen. These days I do stick close to the romance books, but if something grabs my attention I’ll read it.
Who is your favorite author and why? 
I have to pick one? Oh man, this is super tough. Probably Cynthia Eden. I love her gritty prose and the emotion of the characters. I always know her books will be exciting, sexy and damn good!
Now for the fun questions.  Let’s strip away the veil of invisibility. Do you have a day job alongside writing and will you tell us about it?
I do have a day job! I actually really enjoy it. I don’t talk about it when wearing my author hat though. Suffice to say, I work for a small, woman owned IT company that just flat out rocks.
If you weren’t a writer, what career might you have chosen?
Humanitarian. I actually graduated college with the idea of running around the world, helping people. I was in the process of getting funding together when the economy tanked in ’08. I’ve spent a lot of time overseas working with orphans. If the world was a different place, I’d do what I could to make that happen now.
Who is your favorite superhero (or heroine)? Can be from a comic book, movie, novel, cartoon, video game or anywhere else heroes reign.
My childhood was pretty much a tribute montage to Indiana Jones. I grew up traveling from rodeo to rodeo with my mom and dad. Often the only toys I had were my pony/horse and what we could find. Can’t tell you how many times we discovered the Ark or drank from the Cup of Life!
Your favorite book hero?
These questions are hard! I don’t know that I can identify one hero,  but my favorites are usually a paranormal, very alpha shifter. Love those!
You finally have an evening free to spend any way you want. Money is no object. Where do you go? What would you do?
To my couch, where I would stare at the TV. It being on is optional.
Nah, if I had an evening free, I’d like to get some friends together and do something, play games, go to a hockey game. I’m so sadly easy.
You’ve been gifted (or cursed) with the ability to shift into another form by a witch. What kind of shifter are you? Why?
If I got to choose – I’d be a feline shifter. Maybe a panther, tiger or jaguar? Ye
ah, one of those for sure! I’ve always liked cats, and it would be nice to be graceful for a change.
Thanks so much for being my guest today! Anything else you’d like to share with my readers?  Don’t forget to give us links to your website etc.
Thanks so much for letting me drop by today! Check out my latest book, The Harder He Falls, and the other forthcoming So Inked books.
It can never be said that Sidney Bristol has had a ‘normal’ life.  She is a recovering roller derby queen, former missionary, and tattoo addict. She grew up in a motor-home on the US highways (with an occasional jaunt into Canada and Mexico), traveling the rodeo circuit with her parents. Sidney has lived abroad in both Russia and Thailand, working with children and teenagers. She now lives in Texas where she splits her time between a job she loves, writing, reading and belly dancing.
theharderhefalls_msrThe Harder He Falls, So Inked #2   Ellora’s Cave | Barnes and Noble | Amazon
A woman who doesn’t have time for love…
A hot night full of hotel-destroying sex was all Kellie wanted from her client-turned-sex god. Between family and work, there isn’t room for love, just hot, sweaty lust. An arrangement for mutual gratification is exactly what Kellie wants, but every kiss, each mind-blowing orgasm twines her heart around a man she cannot have.
A man building a new life…
Quinton’s assumptions about the So Inked shop owner are turned on their head after one session under her tattoo machine. Kellie’s not the vandal he’s looking for, but she’s the woman he wants. In his bed, on the desk or under the stars, he’ll take her any way he can get her. But Quin has secrets and someone is out to destroy him. Someone who has their sights set on Kellie now.
Kellie  shifted on the wooden bench, still restless. The evening breeze was cooler than normal thanks to a cold front blowing in. It was ridiculous that dropping into the nineties was considered a cool spell, but in the height of Texas summer, you took what you got. She swept her hair up into a knot and tipped her head back. The slight dampness of her skin, courtesy of the ever-present humidity, was a small price to pay for being able to sit outside. She’d shed the formfitting dress for jeans and a tank top and felt more like herself for it.
“How hot does it get here?” Quin plunked down their dinner and sat on his side of the picnic table. Behind him the food truck was starting to pack up.
“Can’t handle the heat?” It was too much to ask that the man be able to cope with everything. He’d sat through the tattoo yesterday without complaint, being a heat weenie wasn’t terrible.
His brilliant blue eyes stood out in the dim illumination of the parking lot light. “When you have A/C, why should you?”
“You do realize that it’s going to get at least ten degrees hotter and stay there, don’t you?” She unwrapped the tacos and inhaled the spicy aroma of peppers and onions mixed with tender beef.
Quin made a show of wiping his forehead with a napkin. “I’m going to melt.”
“Why the hell are you still here then?”
He hefted his burrito and wrapped the tortilla tighter. “Family.”
She nodded, understanding that reason above all others.
They descended in
to companionable silence while they ate. The garbled sounds of a Tejano station melded with the distant sounds of Highway 75 and the light street traffic up and down Greenville Avenue.
“What are you so wound up about, doll?”
Her head snapped around. Quin watched her with one brow arched.
“What?” she asked.
“Your knees are bouncing and you keep looking around. Are you expecting someone I don’t know about?” He glanced over each shoulder.
The bubble of anger swelling in her breast burst. It wasn’t Quin’s fault she was suffering from a case of bitchitis.
Instead of snapping at him, she put her taco down and massaged her temples. “No, I’m just sitting on too much energy and not enough time to expend it.”
“Ah.” He nodded as if he understood. “We used to call that the fight or fuck stage.”
It was her turn to quirk a brow at him. She shivered despite the heat. He had a point; one or the other would help. “Fight or fuck stage? What did you used to do?”
“First I was in the Marines, then I used to fight MMA, semipro.”
Her eyebrows crept upward. Mixed martial arts? She saw Quin in a whole new light, and when she looked at him in this proverbial light, he looked damn good. Fighters came with their own set of issues, but as an MMA hobbyist herself, Kellie had to admit that her bad boy draw was sitting across from her. Growing up around the gym meant she’d become more than competent in a few martial art forms. As an adult, branching out into the grappling, wrestling and more violent aspects had given her a much needed outlet.
Kellie grabbed her drink, the cup covered in condensation, and gulped it down to get moisture back in her dry mouth.
“Why’d you stop?”
“I got hurt. Fractured a few vertebrae. Everyone was amazed I could walk after that. Realized there was little to no chance of me coming back from the injury, so I switched over to training. I like it.”
“Do you train around here?” An invisible fist clenched her heart. There had been a time when she would have known the different gyms, who trained where, which ones were worth going to and so forth.
Quin didn’t answer immediately. He chewed his food without haste and took a drink before replying. “I’m transitioning locations. Parting with someone. It’s a little messy.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Yeah, I’ve been there. I’m lucky to have Mary as my co-owner. The guy I worked with before her was a man-child.”
He snorted. “Man-child?”
“Yeah, you know. Frat boy types.”
He tilted his head back and laughed. “That’s a good one, doll. Man-child. I’ll have to remember that.”
The pet name slid over her nerves as if it were sandpaper. “Do you have to call me that?”
“What?” He blinked as if he had no clue what she was talking about.
“Lay off the doll crap already.”
He shrugged. “You look like a doll.”
Her scalp itched and her hand balled into a fist. “You think I look like a whore?” she growled. Moments like these she felt as if she were a passenger in her own body. The urge to do something, or even the man across from her, had her muscles too tense and her nerves strung too tight.
Quin jerked his face away from his cup. “What? No. That’s not what I meant. You’re attractive and exotic-looking. You look more like a doll than a real person.”
Heat crawled up her neck and she was thankful the parking light was their only illumination. It was the most convoluted compliment anyone had ever paid her, and it turned her on even more. She folded her taco wrapper into a neat square.
“You realize the term china doll is what men called Asian prostitutes and war brides?”
“The fuck—no. No, that’s definitely not what I meant. Hey, guys probably hit on you all the time. I figured I had to be a little creative.”
She rolled her eyes. “At least you don’t talk to my boobs.”
His gaze dipped to her chest and her nipples perked up at his inspection. She squeezed her thighs together. This was ridiculous. She was not an a
nimal in heat ready to throw herself at some random guy.
“Well, in their defense, most guys probably only come up to your chest, so it’s not entirely their fault.” One side of his mouth kicked up in a roguish smile.
She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, blame it on me because I’m tall.”
“It’s not your fault you’re tall. It’s their fault they’re short.”
Her phone buzzed against her hip. Conversation forgotten, Kellie dug it out of her pocket and unlocked the screen. The home-care provider always texted her when Grandma finally went to bed. She breathed a sigh of relief when nothing else was mentioned, which meant the day had passed without incident. She had all night before she would need to go home and face those troubles. For now she was her own woman.
“Everything okay?”
She glanced up from the phone. “Yeah.”
“So you moved here for family. Wife? Girlfriend?”
“None of the above.”
He was unattached and available. She went very still, the possibilities running through her head.
Quin cleared his throat. “My schedule right now doesn’t lend itself to dating.”
Even better. She laid her palms on the rough wooden surface of the table. “Neither does mine.”
His stillness echoed hers. A predatory awareness came over him, but she wasn’t prey. “That’s a shame.”
She looked him over, even as he did the same. He wouldn’t be the first client she slept with, she wasn’t a saint. But neither did she know him.
“Excuse me.” The food truck cook had walked up on them without either noticing. “I need to load the table, sorry.” He smiled and wiped his hands on the dirty apron.
Kellie swiped the napkin across her face. Had she really inhaled the burrito? Judging by the sad remnants left, yes she had.
“That’s fine. Thanks for the food.”
She rose, gathered up her trash and tossed it in a recycling bin, then leaned against the front of Quin’s truck, out of the way while Quin lent a hand to their cook and helped load the table. Too many thoughts spun around in her head, she needed a minute to get her head screwed on straight, but she wasted those watching Quin’s arms and the way his t-shirt stretched across his back. She pretended she hadn’t been staring when he headed for her, perching her elbows on the hood  and leaning back. The truck’s grille pressed into her back but with her elbows perched on the edge, it thrust her breasts out. As if she needed to draw any more attention to them.
Quin’s gaze roved freely over her body and she could already anticipate his strong touch. He would be an energetic lover, but would he be gentle? Or rough? Did he always have to stay in control? Because sometimes she liked to put a man through his paces.
“I can’t tell what you’re thinking and I’m dying to know.” He stopped less than a foot away.
She smiled slowly, already having a pretty good idea what his answer to her question would be. “I was wondering if you would like to get a room?”