Welcome to another fun day of Duck Chat!

Today is your lucky day because Joey W. Hill is here!

Joey is a busy lady if her backlist of books is any indication. With all that writing, I’m surprised she has enough time left over for regular life! But that’s probably just fine for all of her fans. More books for you to read, right? I have to admit though I have a couple of Joey’s books in my TBR pile, I haven’t read her yet.  😥  But hope springs eternal! I loved browsing through all of her different series, however, because I’m series fan. I think once I start on Joey’s series, I’d never stop. How about all of you?

Be sure to leave a meaningful comment or question — Joey will be here to talk to you all and she’s giving away a copy of Beloved Vampire today!

So let’s not delay any longer. We’ve got a lot to talk about with Joey. So let’s chat!

DUCK CHAT: Wow, Joey, a browse through your website is a treat! So many books to choose from! Let’s talk about your Daughters of Arianne just because it intrigued me first. Would you tell us about the series as a whole and then talk about a book or two.

JOEY W. HILL: Glad you enjoyed the tour. I recently redid it so it was more “series-friendly”, since the bulk of my current books fall under four series (Daughters of Arianne, Vampire Queen, Nature of Desire and Knights of the Board Room). The Daughters of Arianne series was spawned by my childhood interest in Hans Christian Andersen’s sad Little Mermaid tale. I started doing the “what if” thing: “What if” the original “little mermaid” had had a daughter? What challenges might her descendants face, particularly if the sea witch’s curses/blessings continued down through the female line, changing a little bit with each daughter?

My heroes in the first two books have been angels, because I’m equally enamored of angel lore, particular the tales of the warrior angels, like Michael. I’ve never liked the idea of them as sexless beings of pure virtue (laughter), so I imagined a virile warrior class whose job is to fight the Goddess’s enemies. Jonah, my first hero in Mermaid’s Kiss, is over a thousand years old, the Prime Legion Commander, but he has a crisis of faith when he loses an angel lieutenant who was like a son to him. Anna, as the young mermaid who rescues Jonah from the sea when he’s wounded in battle, is a young mermaid with a heart full of hope and light (despite facing a death sentence at age 21). Her perspective on life is exactly what Jonah needs.

DC: How many books are planned in the series? The most recent release is A Witch’s Beauty, which is David and Mina’s story. Would you tell us a little about them?

JWH: As many books as the muse gives me and readers are willing to read (aka that Berkley is willing to publish – grin) When I was “what iffing” on the first book, I also wondered about the sea witch’s descendants, if the lives of those dark daughters would somehow remain intertwined with that of the Little Mermaid’s. Mina, the sea witch Anna considers her friend (while Mina considers Anna a huge annoyance), therefore became a strong secondary character in Mermaid’s Kiss, so strong I knew she’d have her own book.

Her hero is a young angel named David. There’s a very cool story concerning him. A few years back, I wrote a pair of books, Ice Queen and the sequel, Mirror of My Soul. These were contemporary BDSM erotic romances with a very challenging heroine named Marguerite. She had a twin brother named David that was killed when he was fourteen, and at the end of Mirror of My Soul, there is a very brief hint of angelic presence that Tyler, my hero, realizes is the spirit of Marguerite’s brother, intervening on her behalf.

So when I started writing Mermaid’s Kiss, Jonah had a new young lieutenant named David, and of course the moment I envisioned him, I knew Marguerite’s brother had come back to visit me. And usually two visits mean that character will have his own book. So he is the young angel that won’t give up on Mina, no matter that the rest of the angelic host thinks she’s destined to give her burgeoning powers to the dark side and should be exterminated now, before she becomes a real problem.

DC: A Mermaid’s Ransom will be out in December. Can you give us a sneak peak?

JWH: Absolutely. The heroine in this book is Jonah and Anna’s daughter, Alexis. She’s a shifter like her mother, but prefers to live in human form on land. She’s enjoying life ostensibly as a college student, but she’s empathic and has an angel’s tranquil aura, so while people are attracted to her, males stay “hands off” because they react to the aura as if she’s a nun. However, she starts having dreams of a very different kind of male, one full of darkness and fire, lonely and savage at once. The hero of this book is Dante, who showed up briefly in Witch’s Beauty as a Dark Spawn. (That’s a creature that’s one half Dark One – an evil entity – and one half something else. In Dante’s case, the other half is vampire.) Dante has been trapped in the Dark One world for decades, and he’s determined to break free of the seal that the sea witch Mina placed on their portals. He uses his not-inconsiderable powers as a sorcerer to build a dream portal. Once he gains Alexis’s sympathy and trust in dreams, he yanks her over into his world and holds her as a prisoner, bargaining for his freedom. However, he doesn’t anticipate the effect that Alexis will have on him, and of course that’s where our conflict and tension really takes off.

Dante was a very difficult character to write, because he was a person in a one dimensional morality. There is no right or wrong in the Dark One world – it’s all about what you do to survive. Anticipating how that kind of being would react to someone like Alexis, who has only known the protection and love of the whole angelic host and the mermaid world all her short life, made it a great challenge for me as an author. I hope I did them justice, because they were great characters. I’m sure the readers will let me know!

If you’d like an excerpt from the book (or for any of the books I’m mentioning here, just jump over to my website and go to the Books Available link. I always have a free excerpt for every book, current or future release.

Excerpt from A Mermaid’s Ransom:

Brimstone. How on earth did she know what brimstone smelled like?

Maybe she remembered it from that time she’d ended up in the outer catacombs of Hell, looking for the caverns where her parents had first met. She’d been twelve, and fascinated by the story of how Anna had hidden Jonah there when he was hurt and being pursued by Dark Ones. Of course, Lex hadn’t been thrilled to run smack into Lucifer while on her romantic quest. She’d been told in no uncertain terms she would not be swimming down into his realm again, not if she knew what was good for her. She was twenty-one now, but the memory still made her shudder.

God, she loved her parents, but they had such scary friends. The Lord of the Underworld was her father’s best friend, while Anna’s was the seawitch Mina, a creature whose name no merperson would speak above a whisper.

But whether or not Alexis was smelling brimstone, this had to be a dream. Mainly because that part of the mind that kept things from being too frightening in dreams said so, even though there was a tenuous note that made it more hopeful suggestion than sure fact.

She was floating in fire. While she felt its heat, she wasn’t burned. It was licking at the fronds of her tail, another curiosity. Usually, she appeared in dreams in her human form, not her birth form, which was merangel—half-mermaid, half-angel, with tail, fins and wings.

As she started to turn to see what was behind her, a hand touched her wings. Strong, male fingers penetrated the thick layers of feathers, curling to grip, knuckles stroking the fragile network of bones beneath.

Ah, it was going to be that kind of dream. This might be worth the nasty brimstone smell, though a funny, fluttery feeling in the pit of her belly recommended she run, even as her body refused to move. The hand teased the feathers where they were attached to flesh, the most sensitive area, and she drew in a breath. Tipping her head back, she found a broad shoulder waiting to support it. It was attached to a very male body pressing against her back, his bare thigh against her hip. The intriguing, muscular plane of a stomach brushed her wings. Another hand parted them as if opening a garment and slid down her spine, making her shiver.

As his breath caressed the side of her throat, because it was a dream, her hair conveniently tumbled over her right shoulder to give him access. His mouth closed over her skin. It wasn’t a kiss. It was as if she was about to be eaten, her flesh savored. The fire was advancing up her body, making her wonder if it came from him, a creature of fire and hunger.

A fang scraped her, and she yelped as he punctured her beneath her delicate gill slit, bringing pain but pleasure as well. Because of that, she remained still, willing to give him blood. His hands made their torturous way to her hip bones, stimulating the tight overlapping scales below them. One hand drifted to the silver and diamond piercing through the thin skin of her navel. Oh, Goddess. She was so responsive there, almost as much as her neck. His lips moved on her, suckling, and she could hear the rush of her blood, eager to nourish him.

Her father had frowned when she got the navel piercing, but Alexis was enchanted by the way it sparkled. If she touched it with light fingers as she lay in bed at night, it sent frissons of sensual energy rippling out like tropical waves, making her imagine a lover’s hands.

She’d never had a lover. It was hard enough to be an empath, but then to have an angel’s energy on top of that? Men were attracted to her like insects to a bug light, but they didn’t come close enough to be zapped. When Lex was in her teens, Anna had pointed out this trait saved lives. Jonah would have had little patience for the hormonal missteps of young males when it came to his only child.

Would have pinched their heads off like ticks on a hound.

Not her mother’s words, of course. Alexis had a human friend, Clara, who’d been born in Georgia and who described her own daddy’s attitude about boys that way. Since it seemed to apply to Jonah, Alexis couldn’t help thinking of it when the issue came up.

But she wasn’t a child anymore. And this was definitely a very grown-up dream. A little more than she’d ever experienced, actually. It was the last coherent thought she had as both of his hands slid up her abdomen, teasing the piercing again before they kept going. She arched back into his body, holding her breath, wanting him to go exactly where he was going, her flesh aching.

There. She gasped, dream or not, as calloused palms closed over her bare breasts, for apparently that was the way her dream wanted them to be, and who was she to argue? She’d gone to sleep in an oversized nightshirt printed with a sardonic pink bunny over the caption It’s All About Me. It certainly wouldn’t have fit with this dream.

Raising her hands, she closed them on his forearms. He stilled, as if he hadn’t expected her to touch him. He was still drinking deep, making her dizzy, increasing the roar of her heartbeat. As she rocked with the motion of the fire, she brushed her backside against his groin. The hard evidence of his desire sent a thrill of apprehension and excitement through her. It was a little too real, a little intimidating.

“You will take the fear. Reach behind you and hold me in your hands.”

The voice was rough, as if scarred by searing clouds of smoke. It rumbled through her body like thunder, the kind that preceded heat lightning, not cooling draughts of rain. Perspiration gleamed on her skin now, heat increasing, and she looked down at his hands. The nails were long, almost like claws, the tips leaving thin red rivulets over her flesh, but the strength in his grip, the erotic kneading, balanced her apprehension. Plus, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of those hands on her breasts, the way they cupped and held her, so sure and powerful, the glide of thumb and forefinger together to capture the nipples, squeeze and roll them in a way that had her swallowing, hard.

“Grip me, now. I command it.”

Reaching behind her pushed her breasts further into his palms, and gave her the quaking sense of being bound, her arms pulled behind her back. Her fingertips slid along a muscular thigh, then over, grazing shyly over a heavy testicle sac to find the base of his shaft. His tongue flicked against her neck, and she gasped, her hand closing over him in spasmodic reaction.

Oh, great Goddess. This might be a dream, but it was difficult to believe it wasn’t something more, because she’d never had her hand on a man’s cock before. How could she register in such detail not just the thickness and velvet length, but the hard heat, the remarkable smoothness of the skin stretched over it, the crease and flare over the head? Viscous fluid made her fingers slippery, instinct motivating her to rub them down his length.

He growled and pushed himself into her hands more urgently. It was so marvelous, so breathtaking, she had to smile at the joy of it, press her temple into his jaw, a thanks for giving her the gift of his passion, his need.

All those hard muscles tensed as if he’d become a marble statue behind her. Her dream was ending. Reality was pulling her away from the fire, from him. Panicked, she twisted around to look up into his face, see who or what he was. What had she done wrong? Could she get him to change his mind, let her stay?

Dark hair tangled over his forehead and around insanely beautiful features. Since she was the daughter of an angel, the most breathtaking species in existence, that was saying something. Then she met his eyes.

Red, gold, orange. The pupils were a tunnel of darkness in the midst of fire. She fell into them, his loneliness and despair, rage and violence closing around her as if he’d clamped a fist around her body to hold her in this stasis of yearning agony.

She’d learned early to stay away from hospitals, slaughterhouses, prisons—wherever suffering of such magnitude existed that she couldn’t adhere to the lesson she’d finally learned and let the Goddess’s cycles take their natural course for those inflicting or suffering pain. She had to fix it or go mad with the agony.

His pain was all those places and more. A suicide’s dead despair, a killer’s rage, a victim’s uncomprehending pain. His sensual lips were curved in a permanent cruel sneer, her blood on his mouth. If he could, he’d drink all of her blood, tear the flesh away and gnaw on her bones, trying to get to the very soul of her. That was what he had to have, what he wanted.

The flame began to burn her flesh. An urgent force pulled at her, trying to take her away from him. Instead, she lifted her hand and laid it on his mouth. Fire exploded through her, igniting all her nerve endings, contorting her mouth with an involuntary scream, but before it all swirled away, she registered the shock in his eyes at her willing touch. Then she was alone, burning alive, screaming for help in a world where everything had disappeared, sucked into that pitiless void in his eyes.

* * * * *

Alexis erupted from her bed, sending T into a squalling leap for safety. The cat knocked over her Victorian hurricane lamp, though the glass bulb shade fortunately tumbled into the mountainous pile of stuffed animals that overflowed from the corner. She spun around.

“Whoa, whoa.” Clara danced back, holding up both hands. “Easy there, Lex. It’s me. You left your door unlocked again, you trusting idiot. I’ve been trying to wake you for five minutes. Goddess, you’re strobing like a disco ball.”

Clara was a clairvoyant. While Clara didn’t know that Alexis was a merangel, Lex was happy to have the closest thing possible to a normal friendship with her, because Clara could get past the vibrating light of Alexis’s aura to the girl beneath.

As she swayed, getting her bearings, Clara proved it by rubbing her hands along Lex’s arms, grounding her further. “Easy now. You’re here. You’re with us. That must have been one hell of a dream.”

Alexis choked on a wild chuckle. At Clara’s alarmed look, she panicked, thinking she might have shifted some portion of her anatomy. A glance toward the dresser mirror told her she looked like any human woman, with her curling brown hair to her waist, blue eyes—though right now they were giant marbles bugging out of her head—and completely human body. No wings materializing, no fins or tail dropping her like a clumsy trout on the carpet.

“I’m okay.” She sank down as Clara shoved her desk chair beneath her. “Just talk to me while I get it together.”

“Okay, hon, okay.” Clara pressed against the back of the chair, her hand in Lex’s hair, stroking. “I had about an hour before classes, and thought I’d stop in to see if you want to audit Greek Mythology with me. It’s being taught by a visiting Greek professor, and holy Gawd, is he hot. Talks with the accent and everything.”

“You want me to bait him for you.” Alexis tilted her head into Clara’s abdomen, gazing up the valley between two high, rounded breasts, probably sculpted by the latest in underwear engineering to show them off to best advantage. Her friend’s humor brought her feet back down to earth. Only she wasn’t sure if “up” wasn’t more accurate. The dream had seemed deep inside some strange planet, far from sky or water, or anything she’d ever known.

“Well, you are my friend, and what are friends for?” Clara curled a lock of Lex’s hair around her ring-bedecked fingers and tugged, though her eyes still showed worry. “We can do our usual thing. You spin the web that catches him and I’ll nail his cute, tight ass. Unless you want the honors for once?”

You will not let him touch you.

Alexis yelped, bolting out of the chair. She tripped, tumbling on her backside into the cushiony paws of an oversized teddy bear, nothing like the embrace of her dreams. Clara was still standing at the chair, staring at her. “What the hell was that?”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m still spooked. I just—”

“No, not that.” Clara knelt by her side, tentatively reached out and closed a hand on her forearm. “Okay, I’m losing my mind, but for a second there your skin got so hot I had to let you go. You okay?”

Alexis tried a nod and pulled off a circular motion that didn’t reassure Clara or herself. Clara sat down beside her, squashing an Eeyore and Pooh pairing, but clasped the Tigger that fell in her lap as she drew up her knees.

“If you drank, I’d say you’d had one too many last night at that Mexican place we tried. But other than your usual high-on-the-nectar-of-life great time, you didn’t drink.”

“Yeah. Great time. Every man in the place noticed me, but not one wanted to do anything more than dance. They even did that way outside my personal space perimeter.”

During adolescence, before she’d fully understood her powers—such that they were—she’d suspected Jonah had cast a magical chastity aura over his daughter at birth. In time, she’d realized all daughters of Arianne were born with special gifts, and this was hers. An exceptional intuition for emotional pain, combined with the tranquil angel power that emanated from her.

Initially, she’d followed her heart instead of her head, wanting to ease pain wherever it happened. She’d resisted her father’s warnings, and made some terrible mistakes. As was often the case, her mother’s words provided the gentle balm to accept Jonah’s painful wisdom.

Suffering is one of the important ways we grow, Lex. You must allow others to suffer. Use your understanding wisely, when it is truly needed, or when it will not derail someone from the path they need to walk. If you do not have that wisdom, it is best not to interfere.

Sometimes, she wondered why the Goddess had given her the gift at all, because the only way it seemed useful was to make people feel happy-fuzzy being around her. In short, she could give a moment’s breather to a girlfriend experiencing the blinding agony of being jilted by a guy, or stop someone from jumping off a building. Everything in between needed to be hands-off. Since she couldn’t switch off either ability, they drew people to her.

She didn’t really mind that. What was frustrating was that the same light that sent out a “come hither” feeling also had a “too good to touch” vibe when it came to males. Unconsciously, they remained at arm’s length, keeping their hands off.

Alexis scrubbed her face. “At least the guy in my dream was different, even if he was sort of a hellspawn, scary demon-vampire type.”

Clara slid an arm around her, a reassurance Alexis gratefully accepted, along with her friend’s cautious but teasing smile. “Tell all, girlfriend. Was he hung like a moose?”

“Oh, Goddess.” Alexis rolled her eyes. “Is that all a guy needs?”

“No, of course not. I expect intelligence, a sense of humor, an enormous bank account and a great body coupled with a decent but manly fashion sense. The well-hung component only becomes requisite if we get that far. But in dreams you can assume those things are given and jump ahead to the good parts. Literally.”

Alexis tried to laugh and instead drew a deep, shuddering breath, thinking of the man in her dream again. While she could feel his emotions, for the first time in her life, they’d been so overwhelming they were mostly incomprehensible. Maybe because it was a dream. Just a dream. When she pressed her face against Clara’s shoulder to stop the spinning, the girl closed both arms around her, rocking her.

“Take it easy, now,” she murmured. “I got you. You’re such a strange friend, Lex. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone more, because you love back like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and you have enough for everyone. But you also worry me. Sometimes you’re way too alone, even though everyone adores you. It’s as if you’re pulling away, toward a destiny that’s kind of scary. I don’t want to lose you.”

Okay, here was one of the reasons having a clairvoyant friend was not fun. Clara’s observations always held truth. Since Alexis had the same lingering feeling, her anxiety swelled, tempting her to tell Clara everything. But that was one of the rules that couldn’t be broken.

Over twenty years ago, a huge apocalyptic battle had happened. Humans had briefly seen angels in the sky, even fought beside some of them to push back the tide of Dark Ones unleashed through a rift. After that, for reasons known only to the Goddess, the angels had been commanded to disappear from human sight again, leaving humans to wonder whether they’d experienced a spiritual revelation, a visit from outer space, or some mass hallucinatory trip brought on by sunspots. Budgets to investigate extraterrestrial life had tripled in all developed nations. As accounts varied, life returned to normal again, angels and other paranormal creatures remaining speculative fantasy to all but the select few humans ready to handle truth.

So Alexis hugged her, straightened and pushed Clara’s straight red hair away from her forehead, touching the delicate diamond and gold ring she wore in the right nostril. “I already told you, you’re going to lose me one day. I’m going to run away with the circus. I’ll free all the lions, tigers and elephants, and take them back to Africa on a raft I make out of wishes.”

The shadows cleared from Clara’s gaze. “There you are. Doing that thing you do.”

“What?”

“Talking like a kindergarten teacher, while all of us eat it up like five-year-olds.”

Alexis made a face. “By the way, he was well-hung. I didn’t see it. I felt it.”

“Yuck.” Clara giggled and shoved her away, throwing the Tigger so it bounced off Alexis’s shoulder. “I never imagined my kindergarten teacher wrapping her fingers around anything except a piece of chalk. Was he someone we know?”

“No.” Alexis sobered, picking up the stuffed animal and considering the foolish face, the broad nose, while her fingers flexed in the soft fur. “I don’t think so. It was kind of a crazy dream. Lots of fire, darkness.”

She raised her gaze to Clara. “He needed me, more than I think anyone has ever needed another. So strong, he’d shatter the universe to get me.”

“God, that’s romantic.”

Actually, it was pretty frightening. Because Alexis knew just how fragile the universe was.

DC: If you could retire any question and never, ever have it asked again, what would it be? Feel free to answer it.

JWH: Laughter – you ask me that, and then you tell me to answer it?! :> The question is “How do you come up with your ideas?” I’ve said in other interviews that I don’t care what elaborate thing authors say to answer this, most of the time it just leaps into your head, kicked off by some type of sensory cue/input. It could be a snippet of sentence, a person’s face, the way a leaf falls off a tree…then all of a sudden you’re connecting that one piece to a bunch of other pieces. I saw a recent thing on J.K. Rowling where she said the same thing – she was just riding on a train, and the idea for Harry Potter “just came to her”. She started following it, and now she has thousands of pages of material on Harry Potter.

I believe there is a collective creative consciousness, and that, if we get lucky as authors, we tap into that. Depending on the type of people we are, specific types of ideas stick with us better than others. For instance, I’ll never be a western author or an inspirational romance author, but there are other authors who will be outstanding in this field.

DC: The Vampire Queen series, would you tell us about it as a whole first? Is it evolving the way you expected when you wrote the first book, The Vampire Queen’s Servant back in 2007?

JWH: I always liked the idea of a vampire as a hero or heroine, versus a monstrous Salem’s Lot kind of character (of course, that was one scary, badass book – had to look under my bed for weeks after I read it). When I saw Fright Night, I was drawn in by Chris Sarandon’s sexy dance with Charlie’s girlfriend, and was kind of disappointed when he had to turn into a gross-looking creature in the end. Anyhow, since I am an erotic romance author, and I tend to delve into the BDSM end of the pool, I was interested in exploring the vampire-servant relationship. None of the vampire books I’d read had really done that, or taken it as deeply as I wanted it to go. The possibilities for erotic power and surrender struggles were endless.

Years ago, my first erotic romance was a Male Dominant/female submissive story, and since my own reading and personal interests gravitate in that direction, it surprised me quite a bit when the next two evolved into Female Dominant/male submissive stories. I love the “palace guard” concept of a male submissive – an alpha male in service to a powerful female character, willing to do anything to protect her, yet often struggling with an unexpected need to surrender to her sexually. So by the time I got to Vampire Queen’s Servant, I wasn’t at all surprised that the muse wanted to kick off the series with a thousand-year-old vampire queen and a former vampire hunter applying for the job of being her servant. Jacob and Lyssa’s story was so complex that it took two books to tell it (Vampire Queen’s Servant and Mark of the Vampire Queen), but I’m glad I took that time. Some stories just need more room. And it looks like the readers would like to see a third book featuring the two of them as main characters, and we’re going to try to give that to them in the future.

As to whether the series is evolving the way I expected, that’s a yes and no question. Series are different from sequels. Sequels have a continuous storyline happening, but series tend to pick up secondary characters from the previous book and give them their own story, and except for whatever you locked them into in that previous book, they can go into any direction. So that’s the fun of writing a series – each book gets more and more fun, because you’ve established your world and don’t have to spend as much time thinking that out. But you never know what way those characters will take you.

DC: The most recent release is A Vampire’s Claim, which was out this past March. Would you give our readers a look inside this book?

JWH: Oh, I loved writing this book. It can stand alone from the first two, because Vampire’s Claim takes place fifty years before VQS/MotVQ – and it all happens in Australia. I admit I’ve been enamored of Australian men since Paul Hogan in Crocodile Dundee, and it’s only grown with the likes of Heath Ledger and Hugh Jackman. My critique partner, Aussie author Denise Rossetti, provided me great direction in researching the history of that time period, the language (I got a little carried away with it, and she had to fuss at me to tone it down – I was using more Oz sayings than an native Australian!) and the Outback. This was all relevant because Devlin, my hero, is a WWII veteran and bushman, who gets entangled with the young vampire Daniela (Danny – and young is relative for vampires – she’s about 200). She’s returning to her sheep station to reclaim it from her late mother’s good-for-nothing consort. In the process they also deal with a powerful and twisted Region Master. Dev’s knowledge of the country comes in handy when Danny’s vehicles are sabotaged in the middle of the bush right before dawn, and that’s just the first obstacle they face together.

She doesn’t want to rope him into being her servant, but as the danger mounts, she decides it’s the only way she can keep him safe, so she marks him against his will, contributing to the conflict between them. But of course, the constant in my stories is that no matter what the heroine does, the hero stands at her back when she most needs him. I’m sure I’m not drawing any comparisons between my wonderful, loving husband and the difficult woman HE’s had to stand by for 20 years!

DC: This month Beloved Vampire is slated to hit the shelves. Mason and Jessica are front and center in this book. May we get just a tiny peek into their story?

JWH: While my readers have responded very well to my Dominant heroines and their protective men, there are some who have waited patiently for me to offer a Dominant hero and submissive heroine in this paranormal series. I’m happy to give them that in Beloved Vampire! Lord Mason made an appearance in Mark of the Vampire Queen, just enough to whet everyone’s appetite. He’s a vampire of mixed ancestry who has haunted the Sahara off and on for about three hundred years, guarding the tomb of his lost love, Farida. My heroine, Jessica, is a fugitive from Mason’s world – she was kidnapped and forced to serve a brutal vampire master for five years as a second-marked servant.

The night Raithe intends to third-mark her, the third-mark is only half completed, because a fortunately timed vampire hunter attack allows Jessica to kill him. Unfortunately, being half-thirdmarked isn’t a good thing, and she is terminally ill. She was an archaeology student, so she picks up the legend of a Bedouin girl’s love for a mysterious visitor to her father’s camp. Jessica, moved by the girl’s faith in an undying love, and completely unaware that love was for a vampire, decides to find the girl’s supposed resting place – to die there. Of course that’s when my hero and heroine’s paths cross, and Mason finds himself unwilling to let the tormented woman die, particularly when he can possibly save her life by making her his servant.

I love writing both paranormals and contemporaries, but the nice thing about the contemporaries is being able to make the bulk of the story all about the relationship. My previous three vampire books integrated quite a bit of politics or action scenes, and while that was a lot of fun, I enjoyed returning to the other kind of format with Mason and Jessica. The majority of this book focuses on overcoming their personal demons to embrace the one-of-a-kind love they’ve been offered with each other. Jessica has been treated so terribly, and trying to reconcile that brutality at the hands of one vampire with how she feels under Mason’s sensual domination is an emotional struggle. And Mason’s fight to overcome his guilt about Farida’s death turns out to be an even more difficult challenge for them to overcome.

Excerpt from Beloved Vampire:

The Sahara had once been green. Lush, a verdant land supporting civilizations. Then the earth’s orbit changed, the sun came a little closer, and the land altered, becoming a desert that swallowed armies. It had happened three or four thousand years ago, barely a blink in the nine billion year life of Earth, but in that blink, Heaven and Hell had switched places. Had it been cosmic boredom, a need for a different perspective? Life giver, life taker.

Jessica wondered which face the Sahara preferred. Since she’d come here to die, it was a point of interest. Barely two years ago, her body had been vigorous and fertile as well. Now it, too, was a barren skeleton that repelled most sensible life forms. She felt almost at home here.

As the largest desert in the world, this was a place one could walk for days—if one had the constitution of a camel—and see no other human life. But the history of the area was still mapped on this wasteland, if one had trained eyes. Though she’d had to study it primarily from within the walls of her prison, she’d done little else of importance in the past months but study her final destination.

She didn’t really count killing Lord Raithe as important. The vampire who’d forced her to be his servant for over five years, and the reason she was dying now, was relatively nothing in the scheme of things. Creatures lived, creatures died, and their bones became sand like this. They all walked over the remains of their ancestors. At least he’d never torment anyone again. That mattered, though in truth, she’d been sick for so long now, she couldn’t even recall why that had been as important as it had once seemed.

In contrast, Farida had remained significant to her. In the midst of a life so horrible Jess often thought she’d already died and somehow deserved Hell—though she couldn’t recall her crime—Farida had given her a spark of light. It had amazed Jess, discovering the body’s desire to live was stronger than anything, even despair. Maybe that was why she’d connected with a woman who had chosen love and then lost everything.

From the very first moment Jess opened the ancient binding and discovered the written memories of the sheikh’s daughter who had lived over three hundred years ago, a bond had formed between them. Farida had spoken in her memoir passionately, vibrantly, of a love worth any torment.

Between being on the run as a fugitive and hoping she had the strength to keep going the next day, Jess had read her words. Hiding in dank places that only society’s forgotten frequented, often there was nothing else to break her thoughts, except the trickling background of an internal hourglass, the sands of her life running out. Her cells were being subsumed in that flow of sand, as if she were becoming part of a place like Farida’s Sahara. But she was okay with that. There were those who believed that the Sahara would return to greenness, that the cycles of climate change would evolve again, the sun getting less hot and the rains increasing. A different way of life would return.

After Jess killed Raithe, Farida’s journal and the diamonds were the only things worth her life to slip back into his house and retrieve. Maybe even then, in her subconscious, she’d realized where she was going to go and what she was going to do with the short remainder of her life. It was no more fantastic than what her life had been for the past five years. And no one would look for her in the Middle East.

When she’d arrived in the Sahara, she realized that those who wrote of it as a desolate place, devoid of life, didn’t know it. There was life here. Not just in the few peoples and creatures that called it home, but in the ghosts that whispered, finding voice through the movement of the sand, a haunting noise like blowing across the top of a soda bottle. She knew what that sounded like, for she’d done it as a teenager, clustered with her friends on the curb outside the Quik-Stop with soda and Cheetoes, eying the boys that came in after school. Boys who eyed them right back.

God, that was a long time ago. She held those memories to her occasionally like a favorite doll, even as she knew the act was closer to that of a mother holding a dead baby.

The three men she’d paid to accompany her this far thought her a madwoman, of course. But she’d paid them enough to indulge her, and there was nothing to lose, no liability. Take a crazy, dying woman out to a remote part of the desert that wasn’t on any map, and she’d eventually tire of her fantasy of finding the marker for a dead woman’s grave or die. They’d be rich men, either way. She’d shown them the jewels, what would be theirs if they helped her. She thanked whatever capricious Deity watched over fools that she’d had the foresight to take the gems while everyone was still out looking for her. Raithe had had a hoard to rival a dragon’s, so they’d never be missed.

Now, as she rolled the comfort of familiar thoughts through her head, a reminder of where she’d been, where she was going, she looked over the endless stretch of dunes. The breathtaking artistry of the wind upon them rivaled the greatest sculptors of the ages, and the sun collaborated, providing a different view with each degree it descended. But even that beauty couldn’t distract her from the fact night was drawing close. God, she hated darkness. But she fingered the compass in her pocket, reassuring herself. The stars would help her find Farida tonight at last.

Reading the words of that diary made her feel as if she were in Farida’s silken tent, where they cuddled on the pillows as girlfriends, pressed forehead to forehead. In the darkest time of night, Farida whispered in her ear. She’d told Jessica that, while everything in life could be taken away by uncontrollable forces, there was always a choice left. Something overlooked, if one did not let fear overwhelm desire.

Farida’s choice had been an incomparable man. Jessica’s would be where she wanted to die. Closing her eyes, Jessica remembered her favorite diary entry, about the night Farida had met Lord Mason…

* * * * *

I was behind the screen when Prince Haytham entered the tent to speak with my father. My father valued my counsel and often allowed me to do this, perhaps because he knew how very restless I became in a woman’s world. Why does Allah create dreams and appetites, the desire to live free and fierce as a man does, if those things are to be denied a woman’s soul? I have often wondered this.

Then I saw the man with the prince. Those longings, banked always against my responsibilities as my father’s daughter, exploded inside me like the brightness of stars, such that they couldn’t be contained. I bit down so hard on my lip I drew blood, though I knew I must fly, sing, dance…all for him.

He had to be a djinn spun from the desert sand, for never has a man been so beautifully made. Face carved with the sculpted beauty of the dunes, but smooth as watered stone, as if a goddess had created him and then lovingly stroked him, over and over.

When they sat for coffee, he removed his robes, showing he wore the brown riding trousers and white shirt of a European. He lounged back on the pillows, a graceful animal. Though he smiled and listened in that relaxed way of men as coffee was prepared, he reminded me of a desert tiger, for his hair was burnished copper, an animal’s pelt. He had it scraped back from his face, so every magnificent plane was emphasized. My fingers wanted to feel that fall of straight silk, tied back from his shoulders.

His eyes were true amber, like the tiger as well, an almost unnatural brilliance to them, as if he carried the fire of the desert within him. A djinn, as I have said. I heard Prince Haytham say later that he suspected Lord Mason was a British spy, for during the time he stayed with us, he was always gone by dawn, and returned at nightfall. He also spoke our language as well as a native, and his accent was not as precisely bitten off as other Englishmen who have met our camp.

The prince said Lord Mason’s purpose was nothing that concerned us, though I imagined him stepping out of view of our camp and dissolving into a tornado of sand, a desert devil spinning across the dunes. He had too much energy to contain in the body of a mortal man. I imagined that he returned to us at night only when his need to exercise his powers was temporarily sated.

But I need to leave off my fancies and go back to that first time I saw him. As I bit down on my lip and tasted my blood, I must have made a sound despite my efforts, for he looked at me, found me behind the screen. Those tiger’s eyes flickered. I saw his nostrils flare, as if he had my scent, knew every shameful thing I wanted. A passing moment, over in a blink. He shifted his attention away, not disrespecting my father by staring at a woman of his house.

But when he raised his hand to perform the salaam, I drew in another unsteady breath, thinking how those hands would feel on my flesh, compelling my surrender, my obedience, my devotion and love throughout eternity. I knew then. From that very first second, Fate tied a gentle but unbreakable tether around my throat and handed the lead to him. I would follow him, no matter what our end would be.

DC: I’ve heard writers often say their stories take them in surprising directions, or dialogue flows from some unknown place. Is it the same with you? Do your characters surprise you sometimes?

JWH: Oh, all the time. I mentioned earlier how surprised I was when my second erotic romance featured a Female Dominant, when I’d envisioned myself only ever writing Male Doms, because (I thought!) that was what interested me the most. Same for my first male/male erotic romance. Never thought I would write one of those, and Rough Canvas has received all sorts of awards, while remaining a personal favorite. I’ve decided what matters is the characters – if I love them, the dynamic doesn’t really matter. The story will come to life.

And sometimes the research you do will take you in an unexpected direction, or give you that surprising dialogue flow. When I researched the Aussie language, and started writing Dev’s character, it was such an easy mesh, his laid back personality with the Aussie’isms and cadence of a 1950s bushman.

DC: Do you ever argue with your characters while you’re writing? Who usually wins?

JWH: If I’m smart, they win, because they have a more direct connection with the muse. Seriously, the “heart” you sense in a story is pure instinct. You can outline and read all the craft books, and that’s going to give you the framework to do all the right things for your story, but it’s like building Pinocchio. You have to get the skills to build the puppet, and when you do, he looks great. However, for him to live, magic has to happen, and that comes when you can let go of all the external distractions (Deadlines, Will my editor like it this way? Does it match market trends? Etc) and let the characters take the lead. If I’m arguing with my characters it’s because I’m holding the reins too tight. Today was a prime example. I had a scene that just wasn’t working, and then I realized I was telling it from the wrong point of view. I shifted it to my heroine, and suddenly the scene flowed like poetry.

DC: Let’s go the contemporary route for a minute and talk about your Knights of the Boardroom series. Can you give us an overall look at the series first?

JWH: The first book in the Knights of the Board Room series came from one of my own personal fantasies (laughter), regarding a woman who is ravished in a board room by a handful of handsome, dominant executives, who treat her with protective yet relentless sensuality. (Note: Since I’ve worked in corporate environments, I can tell you this is DEFINITELY a fantasy – grin.)

However, since Matt engineered this scenario in order to win over the emotionally closed-off Savannah, that meant at the conclusion of the story, the other four men didn’t have a forever love. I’m a fierce advocate of the romance HEA, so I knew that wouldn’t be the last I’d hear of these guys. Therefore we had Lucas’s story last year in the Unlaced anthology (Controlled Response), and in February 2010 we’ll have Peter’s story Honor Bound. In each story, there is at least one pivotal scene that involves all of them overwhelming the senses of our chosen heroine.

DC: Each of the stories in this series is a novella. What was the reason behind the decision to make these editions into shorter stories for the series? Can you give us a quick look into the next novella due out in February 2010, Honor Bound in the Laced with Desire anthology?

JWH: The reason? I’m an idiot. Or my publishers got their chuckles from inviting the author who’s known for writing extraordinarily long erotic romances to be part of an anthology, in order to see how far over word count I would go. Snort. Seriously, in all of these cases, I was invited to participate in an anthology with a wonderful cadre of other authors, and of course an anthology is always a not-to-be-missed opportunity to expose a new group of readers to your work. I’ve gone embarrassingly over word count every time, but fortunately, it’s always worked out and my editors/publishers have been very kind. And perhaps the other authors were relieved to be able to keep theirs shorter (though I think in Unlaced, we all went over – laughter).

Honor Bound is the one I had the most trouble keeping to a reasonable length. Even when I was done, I wanted to put about 10-20k more into it, but my critique partners and editor felt it worked out well, so I’m hoping my readers will like it. The last two in the series I hope to do as standalones (Ben and Jon’s stories).

Honor Bound gave me the opportunity to research someone for whom I have a great deal of respect – the U.S. soldier. Both my hero and heroine are serving in the military – Peter in the National Guard, and Dana in the regular Army. They have a brief, very intense encounter at a BDSM club the week before she ships out for an Iraq tour. Unfortunately, a terrible war injury incapacitates Dana, and though she never expects to see Peter again, he tracks her down and must convince her to trust him in the deepest, most absolute way a submissive must trust her Master, to give their love a chance again. This is also my first book that has a handicapped character (Dana is blinded and left mostly deaf due to her injury), but erotic romance often deeply explores the many sensual zones a woman has.. This story provided Peter the opportunity to enhance Dana’s experience through receptors other than hearing and sight.

DC: What is sure to distract you from sitting down and working/writing?

JWH: Pet needs, chores, all the things I’m always scrambling to stay on top of so they don’t drown me. I usually have to make a concerted effort to let everything beyond the pet and husbandly needs get done after the writing.

Oh, and writing-related email. Though it can eat up my time, it’s a good sign, because I’ve been getting an increasing amount of fanmail and promo requests in the past couple years. This is augmented of course by the interactions I get through my blog, Facebook and Shelfari. I’m a firm believer that every reader who takes the time to email me deserves a personal response, because I’m always so delighted to hear their thoughts about my work. However, to balance these needs with the writing, I’m still playing with different systems, like having a cut off time in the morning and then the rest has to wait for one of the three nights a week I spend on fanmail, promo work, etc. When I get under a tight deadline, I don’t take that morning time. I sit down at 8am and start working on the writing right away. I do the email that night, whatever night it is.

It just occurred to me you might mean “personal distractions”, but I guess I just indicated that most of my time is writing-related (laughter). However, I can admit to a real weakness – during my breakfast and lunch break, if something I’ve DVR’ed is really good, I might have trouble stopping it at the cut off time, and go 10-20 minutes over to finish up the episode, etc. I love ER reruns, and am a passionate fan of Burn Notice, though I typically watch those with my husband at night. I’m also a huge movie nut, and have about 400 DVDs so far. If I pop one in to watch, even if I’ve seen it before, I might have to wait through the kissing parts, telling myself it will be inspirational to the day’s writing (grin – any excuse).

DC: What has been your favorite book cover from all of your releases and why?

JWH: That’s a tough one, because I’ve been truly blessed by the cover fairies. Some incredible artists work at both the Ellora’s Cave and the Berkley houses. I think concept-wise, A Witch’s Beauty is my favorite. Coming up with a cover idea that reflected the story for that one was difficult, and when I turned it in, I thought they would probably decide it wasn’t doable. I was prepared for them to come up with some stock cover photo art idea. Instead, Don Sipley exceeded my expectations. He captured the darkness and danger of David and Mina’s relationship, as well as the bond between them, perfectly. He’s an amazing artist and has done pretty much all my artwork for Berkley, I believe.

DC: How about your least favorite? Why?

JWH: I’ve never been a big fan of the “photograph” covers. They remind me of adult porn book covers that cater more to a male clientele (think the 70s, Debbie Does Dallas). I like the more artistic/graphic covers like those that have been done for the Mermaid and Vampire series, or Holding the Cards from the Nature of Desire series, or Behind the Mask for Knights of the Board Room (which I think is photograph, but it’s done so artistically, you don’t really notice). And the early Poser model covers, particularly the ones that showed the Barbie-like faces, were truly horrendous. Of course, I think everything agrees with that, and a lot of those are being replaced over time – by the photograph covers, but it’s still an improvement!

DC: Erotic territory is up next with the Nature of Desire series. There’s six books in the series, with the last being published in 2007. Will there be any more forthcoming? Can you give us a look at the series as a whole?

JWH: Yes, absolutely there will be more forthcoming. My only limitation is time. My contracted paranormal works (the vampires/mermaids) have been keeping me pretty busy, but Brendan and Chloe (two secondary characters from Ice Queen/Mirror of My Soul) are being written whenever I can find time for them. My hope is/was to turn them in by the end of this summer to Ellora’s Cave, but I may have to fall back on my second goal – by the end of the year. I’m about done with the first draft, but it’s going to take some polishing because I’ve had to write it in fits and starts between other things.

I love all my characters and series. Writers often say stories are like their children. It’s not a matter of loving one more than another. It’s appreciating the special significance of each one in your life. That said, there has been something very memorable about my Nature of Desire series characters. I’ve seen that reflected in the number of readers I have for this series who aren’t even fans of the BDSM genre. The things the characters face have to do with our deepest fears and feelings toward love and commitment, trust and surrender. While I’ve always explored that in all my series, the characters that have acted out those issues in these books have stayed with me, such that I often go back and read parts of their stories for inspiration in my current writing.

Part of it is we cover power/control exchange from many different aspects. The series featured two Female Dominant/male submissive works (Holding the Cards and Natural Law), a Male Dom/male submissive work (Rough Canvas), and then there’s my personal favorite, a Male Dom/Fem Domme pairing, Marguerite and Tyler’s story in Ice Queen/Mirror of My Soul. There’s even one in the series where a secondary character who was the “bad guy” in two of the books got his own book (Mistress of Redemption). And I don’t mean anti-hero – Jonathan was a man who’d made truly bad choices, one of which landed him in prison for five years. In his book, he’s just getting out, and it’s the Mistress who picks him up who has to get him back on the right track, or the consequences will be even more dire than he’s yet experienced.

Many of these books explore the BDSM dynamic in real life (outside the club) relationships, and deal with how the pertinent couples handle obstacles together that have nothing to do with their sexual relationships, so they are very well-rounded stories in that sense. I’ve received some of my most frank reviews, honest personal reactions from reviewers, on the books in this series, so a lot of times I send people to the review pages attached to each of these books to get a sense of why these books have remained so special to so many. (Note, I’m currently still updating some of these review pages from my recent web conversion, so not all are live yet – hope to get them done soon!)

DC: How do you feel your male or female characters have evolved over your career? Do you think you write them differently now than you did when you started?

JWH: I think they are somewhat different. I’ve only been published for nine years now, but when I read Make Her Dreams Come True (the oldest) versus Vampire’s Claim (the newest), I do see the changes. I think those changes are a reflection of my own personal growth. I have more confidence in who and what I am, which you hope to see in yourself as you age, as you resolve old baggage and move on, learning to be an adult (which I think is a life long process – laughter). I’ve had life experiences which changed how my characters reacted to the conflicts/obstacles in their life.

DC: Is there a genre you haven’t tackled but would like to try?

JWH: Yes and no. I want to return to the epic fantasy romance story with which I started my publishing career, Guardian of the Continuum. It had a short digital life with one of the early epubs, and then I shelved it for a later/more appropriate time. I had plans for it to be a five-book series and have written the second book already (which is a historic fantasy, set in the Golden Age of Piracy). I’d like to update that first book and remarket the series. While often a writer shelves her first works as good life experiences and never goes back to them, I have a feeling this series was meant to be – it’s just a matter of finding the right time for it, and the right editor/publisher who will believe in it.

DC: What advice would you give to your younger self?

JWH: We all know advice to our younger selves is wasted, because we never listen (laughter). The other drawback is, if we did listen to that Monday morning quarterbacking advice, we might change the directions we took, and perhaps this is how/where we were meant to go. Like the Colin Raye song says “I wouldn’t change a thing about my life, wrong turns I had to take / Back in those crazy years, those mistakes, they had to be right, if they led me to you.” (paraphrase). However, all that aside, if my younger self was capable of listening, and it wouldn’t change things in an adverse direction, I would say, “Take time to savor every moment of what you’re doing, where you’re going. Every quiet moment with yourself, a friend, a family member, a stranger, every lesson that you learn. Remember that the gods are watching and experiencing your journey, and you should, too, because living this life is the only true certainty we have.

DC: Any way you can choose a favorite of all of your books?

JWH: Er, no. LOL I’ve tried to do this before, and usually the poor interviewer has to listen to me rummage through all my titles and tell her why I love each one. There is some truth to the idea that the current work-in-process is always an author’s favorite, because that’s the one she needs to believe in the most at that moment in time. So for right now, it would be Vampire’s Mistress (tentative title). It’s a ménage a trois, featuring Gideon, a vampire hunter and Jacob’s brother from Mark of the Vampire Queen. In escaping his personal demons, he crosses paths with Anwyn, Mistress of a BDSM club. They have an unexpected connection one night, but then harm befalls Anwyn where she is forcibly turned into a vampire. That’s when Gideon learns that she has a silent partner, the mysterious male vampire Daegan Rei. As he and Daegan work together to help Anwyn adjust to her new circumstances, the three of them start drawing closer together and Gideon struggles with the fact he may become inextricably bound to two vampires who can’t do without him.

DC: You’ve got a number of short stories featured on your site. If a reader hasn’t tried a Joey W. Hill book before, which short story would you recommend she start with to introduce her to your work?

JWH: This is another one of those questions where I’ll end up recommending them all if I go on about them too long (grin). However, one of my personal favorites is The Crush – just a sweet little moment-in-time romance, but it highlights my style pretty well. Some of the stories were written years ago (they’re ordered from newest to oldest), and though it is one of the older ones, I am very fond of Halloween Knight as well, which is actually a young adult featuring a highly honorable young man named Sam who gets the chance to be a hero to the girl he loves on Halloween night.

DC: If you were a book, what would your blurb be?

JWH: Get up, walk dogs, write, take care of dogs, write, exercise, do promo work, return email, kiss husband, go to sleep, start over again. Here’s a day in the life of Joey W. Hill, sure to either make your head spin, your hair fall out, or put you into a comatose stupor. A book that one reviewer claimed was “The most exciting book of the year!” Of course, it was January 1, and we think the reviewer was bribed by the author…

In short, like most authors, the stories are far more exciting and interesting than the person behind them! (laughter)

DC: What would be your “voice’s” tagline?

JWH: “Erotic romance that shines a light on the reader’s soul”. Regardless of the sexual orientation/interests of my characters, my stories seem to touch the common needs and desires of many of those who are kind enough to pick up my books. I also have an official tagline on my blog, “Nothing you would expect, but everything you could want”, because I’ve heard from a lot of readers that the type of erotic romance/BDSM I write is unexpected, but touches them deeply. I hope I’ll always get that reaction!

DC: If you had never become an author, what do you think you would be doing right now?

JWH: I’m a great administrator/office manager. I love taking care of people that way, and it was what I was doing before I went to full time writing. However, my favorite all time job was working as a kennel worker for a humane society. Making the dogs and cats happy and comfortable, ensuring they were safe and received affection and attention—that was a win-win job. And it only paid $20 a week!

DC: What’s on the horizon for Joey W. Hill?

JWH: Did we cover the whole read, write, sleep, eat, thing? (grin) Seriously, I’m working on Gideon’s story now (mentioned above), as well as Brendan and Chloe’s story for the Nature of Desire series. After that, my last contracted work of the year with Berkley is another vampire story. This will feature a character introduced in Vampire’s Claim, Lady Daniela’s maid and second-mark servant, Elisa. She ends up taking some children who were forcibly turned to vampires to a big cat sanctuary (which may be in America or in Kenya, I haven’t yet decided) run by a reclusive male vampire named Malachi. It’s hoped that he can help her figure out how to help the children survive in the very Darwinian vampire world, but in the process, he helps to heal and win Elisa’s heart as well.

As I mentioned earlier, if Berkley decides they want more of the vampires, we’ll do a third book featuring Jacob and Lyssa, where Lyssa explores the Fae side of her parentage, and the powers she has in that regard. I’ll be doing some heavy duty Faery research for that one (right now I’m immersed in Born Free, Big Cat Diary and visits to predator cat sanctuaries!).

I’ve been keeping myself fresh by writing/serializing vignettes for my blog, featuring characters from my full length works. Right now the one I’m running in parts is “Tyler Tied Up”, featuring Tyler and Marguerite from Ice Queen/Mirror of My Soul. I’ve also been given future vignette ideas featuring Jacob and Lyssa, as well as the mermaids and their angels. So I anticipate continuing to do that.

If you’d like to stay on top of everything happening with me, I send out a monthly newsletter that often has early peek excerpts from upcoming works, and there’s always a contest. There’s a big one this month for a signed copy of Beloved Vampire and a pair of silver/tiger eye earrings (entry deadline is July 31). If you go to my website, just click on the Guestbook link. I’ll add you to the guestbook and send you that latest issue so you can enter the contest. And don’t forget to check out all the free excerpts and short stories on the site. I love to get visitors.

Thanks for having me here!

Lightning Round:

– dark or milk chocolate? – Dark
– smooth or chunky peanut butter? – Smooth
– heels or flats? – Sneakers
– coffee or tea? – Tea (Celestial Seasonings!)
– summer or winter? – Both
– mountains or beach? – Beach
– mustard or mayonnaise? – Mustard
– flowers or candy? – Candy
– pockets or purse? – Purse
– Pepsi or Coke? – Cherry zero (Coke!)
– ebook or print? – Both!

Because we still like seeing all the different answers:

1. What is your favorite word? – According to how many thousands of times I have to edit it out, “just”!!
2. What is your least favorite word? – Penis, vagina or fart (couldn’t decide – equally dislike)
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? – Great music, movies and books
4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally? – Negative people
5. What sound or noise do you love? – My husband and animals snoring – very peaceful
6. What sound or noise do you hate? – Smacking/eating noises
7. What is your favorite curse word? – Fuck
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? – Exotic dancer
9. What profession would you not like to do? – Reporter
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? – “It’s okay, you can rest now.” I’m terrified it’s going to be “Where have you been?! I’ve got so much for you to do!”

DC: Joey, thank you for spending the day with us! It’s been fun!