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WOOT! I love debut authors and new Ellora’s Cave author Persephone Jones is NO exception!

We connected over Facebook and she is the sweetest, nicest person.

 

So when her debut paranormal erotic romance KILTING ME SOFTLY released yesterday from Ellora’s Cave I knew I had to get her on here for an interview.

I like to pay it forward with debut authors. So many people were so awesome and nice to me when I was starting out I try to do the same.

Here’s the blurb, before the interview and you can ogle the awesome cover!

Blurb:

Morgan Keevy is a woman hell-bent on revenge. She’s traveled thousands of miles to Scotland to kill Ciaran McCade, the man responsible for murdering her twin sister Megan. So she’s horrified by her lust-filled response to him at their first meeting.

All werewolf Conall McCade wants is a pint in the local pub. When he meets sexy Morgan at the bar, he believes he’s hit the one-night-stand lottery. Unbeknownst to Conall, Morgan thinks he’s Ciaran, his deranged twin brother—a fact he doesn’t learn until he’s tied to the bed…naked…with a silver dagger aimed for his heart.

The moon is full. Lust is in the air. And no one is who or what they seem.

kiltingmesoftly_msr

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tell us about your upcoming release.

Kilting Me Softly is Book One in a trilogy called Sexy Scots. Book Two is Off Kilter and Book Three is Done Been Kilt. All three books are erotic paranormal romance werewolf stories. The larger story arc is the murder of Morgan Keevy’s twin sister Megan. When justice fails Morgan and the only suspect skips the country, Morgan goes after him. That journey takes her all the way to Scotland where she meets Conall McCade, the hero of the story. I don’t want to spoil anything, so I’ll just be mysterious and say that the man she meets in the opening scene is not the man she’s looking for.

What gave you the idea to write this story?

Well, since I was a kid I loved monsters and horror movies. I come by it naturally as my parents are horror fans. But I had a real love of werewolves. Not surprisingly, I love wolves too. So the idea of a person becoming a wolf was/is a fascinating concept for me. I wanted to write a werewolf romance but I wanted to put a spin on it so I thought, what if I wrote about werewolves in another country? Then Morgan manifested on my monitor via my fingertips and started telling me her story. From the first word, I felt compelled to write it.

How much research do you put into your books?

Research is crucial. One of my greatest fears as a writer is getting something wrong. I did quite a bit of research about Scotland and the small towns in the Outer Hebrides. I literally imagined I was Morgan travelling from Texas to Scotland following a killer. Google Maps came in handy! I also drew on my study of wolf behavior. I wanted the werewolves in this story to seem as real as possible. Post-traumatic stress, mixed drinks and police procedure were also on the research list.

Is this your first book?

Yes and no. I’ve been writing books since I was little. My first erotic romances were  published by Shadowfire Press. I currently have two stories in two separate anthologies with Breathless Press. Kilting Me Softly is my first story with Ellora’s Cave.

What was it like when you got the “call” on this story?

It was the Fourth of July weekend. I was on Twitter when I clicked a link to one of Jaid Black’s (founder of Ellora’s Cave) blog entries. She was talking about an article in Time magazine that was slightly inaccurate in its treatment of erotic romance, not to mention a little sexist. I gave my passionate response defending our genre and its authors and we began a rapport. She asked if I had anything ready to submit so I sent her Kilting Me Softly. Within the next few days, she read it and offered me a three-book contract! I sent EC’s Editor-in-Chief Kelli Collins, a proposal for another five book series and it was also accepted. That’s eight books! Needless to say, I am over the moon and back again.

Why do you like these genres of erotic romance?

I think horror is sexy. Mankind is no more fascinated by two subjects than he is sex and death. Horror is the marriage of the two. As a society, we affirm our triumph over death with sex, especially when we use it to create more life. And I think the reason paranormal erotic romance is so insanely popular is simple. The idea of an attractive man wanting you is one thing. The idea of an attractive man whose monster wants you is like having your cake and eating it too. And who doesn’t like cake?

Now, some fun questions I ask everyone.

Out of all of your published books, who is your favourite hero and why?

Right for the jugular, eh? Well, so far, I have three published heroes. They’re all equally hot in their own way. One is an executive by day and gargoyle by night. Another is a vampire who lives on fruit, while my latest is a Scottish werewolf. Lord, don’t make me choose!

Out of all of your published books, who is your favourite heroine and why?

That’s a difficult question too. Corresponding with my heroes answer, one heroine is a journalist. But the heroine in my second story never revealed her occupation to me. The most recent is a graduate school drop-out. I’m proud of my heroines. They’re strong, genuine and never without a sense of humor.

Anything new in the works you want to share?

I’m currently dividing my time amongst three or four stories. They’re like ravenous baby birds chirping for my attention! Off Kilter, Book Two of the Sexy Scots trilogy, Book One of a new series featuring hybrid heroes and a few short stories. Plus a couple of series are promising to duel at dawn if I don’t hurry up and write them too. Who needs sleep?

Where can we find out more about you?

I’m on both Twitter and Facebook. Lately, more Facebook than Twitter. I have a blog and there’s always my e-mail for more direct correspondence.

What is your favorite color?

It always amazes me that people can pick a favorite color, because I’m something of a color whore. I love color. That doesn’t necessarily mean I want a bunch of it on me at once or all in one room. I guess it really depends on the object/subject. My favorite car color tends to be either black or earth or metal tones, like greens, browns or gray. My office is pink and black. I wear a lot of brown. I’m also a big fan of purple. It looks good on most anyone. See? I just can’t pick one.

What is your favorite drink?

I love iced tea. I love Coke-a-Cola. Hot chocolate in the wintertime. Cold water. One rule. If it’s cold, it must have ice.

What is your favorite food?

Food food? Tex-Mex. Sad but true, I can be bought with a plate of cheese enchiladas. Desserts? I’m a chocolate chip cookie monster. But they have to be the soft, chewy, oh-my-goodness-it’s-melting-in-my-mouth kind. And brownies. Lots and lots of brownies. Apple pie. Chocolate cake…okay, better stop or I’ll gain weight just fantasizing.

Trapped on a desert island what three movies would you take with you? What three books and what three fantasy men?

Wow. This is probably the toughest question of all. I’ve asked it of myself before and broke out in hives. Let’s see. Movies. I love horror movies and good movies in general. I would want to represent some of my favorite genres. So of all the horror, probably Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. For a sweet, feel-good romantic story, I adore Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. And for comedy, because being trapped on an island is NOT the time to lose one’s sense of humor, Murder By Death. Can I sneak aboard Empire Strikes Back? That. Was. So. Hard!

Books? *bites fingers* Impossible. Simply impossible. One book might have to be Richard Laymon’s Island, since it’s about being trapped on an island. Jane Eyre was the first book that really reached into me and pulled something loose. That’s two. Um…*rocking back and forth to comfort myself* Something from Janet Evanovich’s Plum series like, Four to Score would be good to have too. Then there’s early Johanna Lindsey and Jude Deveraux. That’s not counting anything really new and current. *squeak*

Fantasy men? Oh man. *sighs with agony* There’s just too many of them! As long as they’re handsome, smart, kind and funny. Being able to build a fire, fish and find drinking water would be good and of course build a weather-proof hut for when it storms. Survival first. Then romance.

Thanks, Persephone for answering some mind bending questions, especially during release week which can be chaotic and play havoc on an author.

Here’s the excerpt:

“What brings you to Scotland…miss, Mrs.?” He performed a shameless search of her fingers.

Ms.”

“Ms.? You’re not married?” He glanced around as if he’d stumbled upon a gold mine and wished to keep it a secret. Right then, she could have taken him gently by the back of the head, brought him to her lips and whispered to him, Have no fear. I only have eyes for you, Ciaran McCade. Eyes and a dagger with your murdering name written all over it. She showed him her hand, naked of any jewelry.

“Engaged?”

Morgan shook her head.

“Boyfriend.” He declared as if finally certain in his last-ditch attempt to figure her level of availability.

Smiling, she shook her head again. She’d planned on giving him a fake last name, but so far he’d been too distracted to follow through and ask. The cad was making this easy. She hadn’t planned on that either. If things continued this way, she’d be back on a plane to the United States by tomorrow morning. One less psychopathic monster running loose in the world. A shattered family one step closer to healing.

Fuckin’ hell.” He cursed and then stopped himself. “There’s no way you’re not married or engaged or dating or…”

“Fucking someone?”

That caught him off guard. His eyes, piercing jade jewels, scanned her womanly shape with virile hunger. In her study of the abnormal psyche, she’d become adept at sensing when someone was conning her, but this man’s game was on a whole other level of expertise. When his heated gaze returned to hers, she smirked at his shameless survey of her body. “Conall” had finally got his bearings. “So, you were saying?”

She didn’t bother asking him if he had a girlfriend. Men like Ciaran McCade didn’t have girlfriends or relationships. They conquered and destroyed. When they wanted something—they simply took it. Sex was no different. As was no doubt the case when he’d happened upon defenseless, unsuspecting Megan. She tried not to think how she broke down when the detective told her Megan had been raped. How he’d admitted that whoever raped her had worn a condom to prevent identification. Now was not the time to tap into that memory.

He wasn’t the only one regrouping. Morgan maintained a fragile calm on her exterior. Never mind that she trembled to her bones on the inside. What were they discussing?

“Family history,” she offered, deciding not to attempt a full-out lie. After all, she didn’t feel she was as skilled a liar as the man currently eating her up with a spoon. A liar who, after hours and hours of endless interrogation, maintained his story. The one where he claimed he’d never seen Megan before, much less eviscerated her in an abandoned park in the middle of the night.

“Mother’s or father’s side?”

She sipped her drink and stirred it casually with the straw. “A little of both, actually.”

“Hmm.” He picked up his stool and positioned it as close to hers as he could get it, setting his drink, a murky ale, beside hers. His obvious come-on made her laugh. It had been so long she barely recognized the sound. Despite the horror of her reality, she was beginning to enjoy herself. Months had passed since she’d been able to relax. What the hell. She deserved a moment’s joy. And this bastard from hell owed it to her. “Where are you from?”

“A little place called Houston, Texas.”

“Ah. I know of it.”

I bet you do. She had to say a silent prayer to maintain a pleasant expression when everything in her being shouted at her to take him by the throat and lay him out on the bar, slashed by a thousand broken liquor bottles, and light him on fire.

“Ever been to the States?” She tested him.

“Aye. Long ago.”

Long ago as in months? she wanted to ask. Commit any rapes or murders while on holiday there? “And?”

“Where were you?”

She smiled a little bigger than she would have liked. Boy, this guy had the lines. But of course he did. This man was a savage killer. Regardless of whether he had a split personality or simply a cunning mind, dear Megan hadn’t been as fortunate as she. Megan had stumbled upon this Jekyll’s Hyde and paid with her life. No amount of chemistry could change that. Besides, how sick would lusting after a monster be? Let alone your sister’s murderer?

The man calling himself Conall took a hearty gulp of his pint. She watched him use his lower lip to wipe the upper clean, a veritably carnal act. The simple act of watching him take a drink made the blood in her veins dance. “When did you arrive in Bowglass? Please say today.”

“Today,” she answered without hesitation.

The Scot gave a convincing performance of devastation and dropped his head on the bar in theatrical surrender as if one word from her could reduce him to a state of absolute powerlessness. To add to the dramatic irony of the situation, the pub patrons roared with hoots and applause at the football game playing on the television over the bar.

If only it were that easy, she thought. Suddenly she felt exquisitely powerful. And since no one would ever know except her, very sexy. Her heart fluttered in her breast like a restless bird in its cage.

Conall straightened in his seat and asked in a softened tone, “How long are you here for, Ms. Morgan?”

The sound of her name on his lips rendered her momentarily incapable of thought. Luckily, her mouth still worked.

“However long it takes.” She didn’t smile when she said it because she meant every syllable. When the judge refused to consider him a flight risk, she knew he’d run. That’s when she knew he was guilty. The law would never recognize the danger he presented to the unsuspecting world until it was too late. It was up to her to stop him.

He had to clear his throat before he spoke, boosting her confidence, as he ran his thumb down the side of his glass. “Where will you start?”

“The local hall of records.”

“Let’s see…” From his sinfully soft leather jacket, he pulled out a pen and picked up his coaster and pretended to write on it. “Destroy hall of records tomorrow eight a.m. sharp.”

Morgan found it easy to play along. “You wouldn’t.”

He looked her in the eye and didn’t blink. “I will.”

 

You can pick up a copy of KILTING ME SOFTLY here.

I hope we see many, many more books from Persephone Jones!

 

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