Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Enchanting Evonne & Blocking My Sun

Two breath-taking star-planets in the late sunset sky, my Big Beautiful Cats, they were a dazzlingly bright mystical pair in the dark teal wash of sky, with a band of cherry-orange gleam marking the horizon...the tame prairie is good to the Kougar.

Tonight, moi brings you an interview with Enchanting Evonne, her ATIV buddy, and a finalist in the American Title V competition.
Magical Mel, another one of the Kougar’s ATIV buddies, conducted the interview, already in progress...

I’m Evonne, and I come from Barry, which is a large town on the South Wales coast, not far from the Welsh capital city, Cardiff. Those who are into the cult series Doctor Who and Torchwood would recognize landmarks from the area, as it's where they are both filmed.

Mel: Last year, we all competed with paranormal manuscripts, but this year's contest is a genre free-for-all. What's your book's title, and subgenre?

Evonne: My manuscript is called Never Coming Home. It's a contemporary romantic thriller. I seem to have tuned into my dark side while I was writing it, as it has a very high body count and a number of characters meet rather gruesome ends. Not all of them the bad guys.

Mel: Sounds like one of those dangerous books! Can you tell us a little more?

Evonne: Kaz Elmore’s four-year-old daughter died in a car crash while on holiday in the States with her father. Now, six months later, Kaz gets a visit from a guy called Devlin. His account of what happened that day is very different from the one Kaz got from her ex-husband. She needs to find out the truth, and Devlin seems to be the only person who is willing to help her. But can she trust him?

Mel: When we talked about the book earlier, you mentioned that it opens in the U.S., but then it moves to London, and then to Florence. Why were those locations important to you?

Evonne: They were significant for me and for the book. I needed the car crash involving Kaz's daughter to be somewhere that was a long way from home, so that she knows very little about what happened, and is too overcome with grief to ask. Also Devlin is living in the States. Hiding out, if you like. Everyone thinks that he is an American, but he's not, he was born in Hackney, in London. He used to work for a very secret branch of the security services, which I invented for the purpose. When the book opens he is 'retired' and living under a new name.

London and Florence are two of my favorite cities. I lived for a long time in London, and I'd love to live in Italy. I hope that the atmosphere of both comes across in the book. There are also brief trips to France, Lake Garda, also in Italy, and Cardiff, in a short but vital scene at the end of the book. I always like to put a small glimpse of Wales into everything I write.

Mel: To this small-town Midwestern girl, that all sounds so exotic and beautiful! I can't wait to read your excerpts when voting starts. Can you tell us more about the conflicts in Never Coming Home?

Evonne: The book has quite a complex plot, so I had to weave the progress of the love affair and the emotional development of the characters in amongst the parts where I’m throwing people off high buildings. Both Devlin and Kaz are carrying baggage and have a lot of internal conflict. For some reason that she doesn't understand, Kaz trusts Devlin from the beginning. Everyone is telling her that she is wrong to do this and that is also what her brain is telling her, but her instinct is pushing her in the opposite direction. She is afraid that she is making a mistake, which she has made before, relying on a man to solve her problems, when she could and should be doing it for herself. She has no idea how strong she really is, or how much that attracts a man like Devlin, who admires her independence.

Kaz’s mother, Suzanne, was a wild child in the swinging 60s, and her lifestyle has given Kaz an insecure background that she is trying to repair. A lot of my books have an older woman in them, who has an influence on the heroine. I had a lot of fun imagining Suzanne's life as a model and party girl in London in the late 1960s. I will be interviewing Suzanne on author Sylvia Day's blog on 4 December. If everybody would like to drop in then you can find out more about her life.

Devlin’s got his own problems – he’s done some pretty bad things in his past, but now something inside him is changing. It looks like it may be his conscience coming to life. Meeting Kaz makes the whole situation a lot worse, because she seems to be able to push all the wrong buttons. He finds himself volunteering to help her, and it’s all downhill from there. Plus they both think that the other is hot. They don't actually managed to resist each other all that long -- my willpower wasn't strong enough – but, of course, they think that it's only a casual affair. I have news for them …

Mel: Sylvia has been so supportive of American Title. I'll be there with bells on! When you wrote NCH, did you do a lot of plotting, or are you more of a pantser?

Evonne: I’ve never been able to decide about this, because I do both. Never Coming Home was quite heavily plotted in parts, because I had to be sure that all the layers pulled together while Kaz is searching for her daughter. I had bits of plot written on cards which I kept shuffling to get them in the right order. By the sort of nasty coincidence that we evil writers like to throw into the mix, something from Devlin's past also comes back to haunt him. There was even more shuffling then, to ensure that everyone was in the right place, and even in the right country, to be doing what they were supposed to be doing.

In other parts of the book, particularly in the developing relationship between Kaz and Devlin, I often sat down to write with no idea of what was going to happen. I just let them tell me what came next. It took a bit of double checking and sorting out at the editing stage, but it all hangs together now -- I think! Now I just have to see what the readers of Romantic Times make of it.

Mel: I have to know - how did you react this time around when you heard the news you'd finaled?

Evonne: Getting the e-mail from Romantic Times was a very weird experience because, of course, I'm one of the Title Magicians who were finalists last year. So I was thrilled and excited, and also had a strange sense of déjà vu. When I sent off three chapters and the synopsis of Never Coming Home, I really didn't know if I could do it again, or even if they'd accept another entry from a previous finalist. As you know, I didn't even tell the rest of the ladies on Title Magic, not even when I got the request from Dorchester in July for the full manuscript. Only my mum and two close friends knew. They'd all encouraged me to have another try, but I didn't know what to expect. So – I’m living proof that you can have a dream come true more than once.

Mel: Well, you must be doing something right, Evonne. Dream big, and dream often! I'm looking forward to cheering you on!

Vote for your fave entry at the Romantic Times Website.

Now, just for the Big Cool Cats ~

Blocking My Sun... Flash of Sun and Beach

All alone. She sighed with complete satisfaction, and planted her elbows in the beach’s almost too-hot sand. The surf shone brilliantly, green turquoise with thin lines of iridescent bubbles on the rolling gentle edges. Sorrenna wore her favorite red bikini just in case. So far, no one else had intruded.
She reclined back basking in the burning delicious rays of the sun, with only her thin towel between her and the sugar-fine incredible sand that conformed to her body. Was this a slice of heaven, or what? She smiled, let her eyelids flutter closed and relaxed.
“You’re blocking my sun.”

The snarl in her voice should have warned him. She didn’t bother glancing up at him, or moving her perfectly curved body–designed for every carnal sin he’d ever had in mind. As he knew it would be. He’d been tailing her the past three weeks for a business client. Suddenly she’d left the city on vacation. The Dragon Lady of the corporate world, who advised when to fold ‘em and when to hold ‘em. When to expand. When to cut back.
Drave couldn’t believe his luck, even though luck favored him like blossoms attracted bees.
“Gonna do anything about it?”

Sorrenna ignored the crude insolent challenge. From his overwhelming potent smell as he baked in the high tropical sun, she figured he was muscled and male to the core. Sensually arching like a happy cat, she settled even more comfortably in her sand bed, deciding her best strategy was to wait him out. Men like him weren’t noted for their superior patience when dealing with the opposite sex. Still, it was more than annoying that he blocked her sunlight with his obviously huge body. Not one ray touched her skin.
“If I’d wanted shade, I would have brought an umbrella.”

Drave had spotted her leaving the flower-prettified bar next to the lobby of his vacation hotel hangout, as he’d been checking in. He’d quickly thrown cash, practically dumped his bag on the bell hop, then stripped down to his suit when his feet hit the sand.
His breath hitched as she moved, tantalizing him brutally with not one thought of doing so. Scenes of her naked and writhing on his bed while he plundered her body with his, exploded in his head. Not to mention his loins exploded to instant need.
Down, he ordered his cock.
“Consider me your sun.”

Sorrenna deigned to open one eye. All she saw was tree trunk-sized bronze legs.
After hissing a long impatient sigh, she reluctantly rolled over and wiggled into a comfortable position. It so figured. Finally she’d been able to sneak off on vacation and now this impossible lout wanted to be her ‘sun’. Maybe if she slipped into a nap, maybe if she snored, he’d get the hint pounded through his obviously thick skull like a damn ten inch nail.
Drowsiness seeped into her limbs along with the warmth of the sand. He didn’t leave.
“You’re a damn shade tree. Move.”

Drave stared at her voluptuous ass, so round and such a blatant invitation, with only a red strip of cloth in his way. He groaned silently. His entire body growled for her, a damn bear claiming a honey-filled tree. He forced himself not to grab his cock, rising like a sentinel on watch in enemy territory.
Front or back, she was the kind of woman a man watched, raised up his on fists, while his cock took her with long pillaging thrusts. While she moaned with extreme pleasure. And let him do whatever he wanted with her.
“I can’t move.”


Effing annoyed, Sorrenna stifled a massive sigh. Deciding to open one eye, she reluctantly peeked out the corner. Good God! The man’s organ towered like a friggin’ utility pole. Instantly her brain flashed a scenario of her saying, timber, as if she’d just sawed it off and the enormous pole now fell on top of her. Even worse, the ridiculous urge to cover herself with her arm almost caused her to do it. Forcing her casual reach, she idly lifted the corner of her towel, then pressed the electronic waiter.
“Large glass of ice water. As soon as possible, please.”

Ice water. For an instant his brain froze as if she’d just dumped ice water on his head. In another firing of his neurons, he realized that wasn’t the head she was planning on freezing with her large glass of ice water. What the fuck hell now? He wasn’t leaving. His feet wouldn’t move. And, damn, his cock felt like an anchor effectively weighing him down to the spot. Not like he could hoist himself, despite the lack of other patrons, and sail away. Mentally, he shook himself, thinking through the heavy carnal fog.
“Raoul, over here. I’ll get it.”

Sorrenna froze as if he’d drenched her with a barrel of ice water. Her heart pounded painfully. Now what? The odious beast blocked her sun. And blocked what she’d yearned for since the beginning of summer. To be alone, damnit! On vacation. Fury whipped through her, and she whipped around. Good god, it was even more humongous. Up close. And way too personal. She felt like her eyes crossed as she stared at his cock. Hell, no wonder he couldn’t move. A ton of cock weighed him down. She wanted to ask him if he’d ever considered reduction surgery.

Her voice blazed ice and rage, and sliced up his middle. Her gaze trained on his cock, however, had him happier than a callow youth noticed by his first crush. Fuck, her full high breasts still jiggled, barely contained by the red scraps of material. There wasn’t one part of her body his cock didn’t want. Raoul placed the large glass of ice water in his waiting hand, said nothing, and quickly departed. Drave figured he had only three options. Pour the water out. Pour it down his pants. Or let her pour it on his cock.
“Your ice water.”

Sorrenna snapped her hand forward, grabbed the ice water, and felt it nearly slip from her grip because of the cold sweating glass. Hanging on tightly, she scowled more formidably, as she held up the glass in a warning for him to leave or suffer the consequences. When he stood steadfast, refusing to un-root himself, she rose to her knees. Grinning with dark glee, she targeted his giant cock with her gaze. Slowly, with his torment in mind, she lifted the glass higher and higher, until it hovered directly above the jut of his trunks. Then she poured. Gradually.

Clenching his eyes shut, and chomping his teeth together as if he bit the bullet, Drave let the icy agony take over his body. God. Hell, what ugly pain and what unexpected pleasure. The strange ecstasy stabbed through his cock, then flooded his loins. He quaked inside, the visual of her wrist turning the full glass of water so it spilled in a small stream onto the head of his cock, then the dream-like darkening of his trunks...weirdly, as erotic as hell. Even as the cold burned his balls like hellfire.
Shock, he decided. But fuck, he ‘enjoyed’.


Yes, his answer clanged through her like an antique fire engine bell. She knew it was also an emergency warning. This man was dangerous. Dangerous to her. Dangerous on every level. Although his utility pole cock had diminished in size. Not much. Still, the thrill of some victory bubbled through her veins. Gradually, she surfed her gaze up his body, noting the bloodless clench of his fists. The tough bands of bronze muscle. The dark V of hair on his chest. The swimmer’s breadth of his shoulders. Finally, the determined V shape of his chin.
“Another glass of ice water?”

Hell, he didn’t like it. But he’d stand her all day letting her pour whatever she wanted on his begging cock. Even though shards of pain blistered along his length. He felt her slow perusal up his body, as if erotic razor blades cut up his torso. He clenched his eyelids savagely, the image of her lips tasting him, soothing him. First, sliding over his cock’s head. Blood poured into his loins, threatening to raise the sentinel again. Fuck! He wanted to tell her to lower his trunks, to put her sweet sexy mouth on his cock and suck.

Damn fucking dangerous. And a glutton for icy punishment. Sorrenna figured, why not? At least, if she couldn’t enjoy the sun, she could perversely entertain herself. Especially, since he seemed so stupidly willing. Dolt. What a dolt head. Actually, from her position, she couldn’t see his head. Only his clean-shaved tanned chin, stalwart, male stubborn. And the big lobes of his ears. But, not his head. Or his cock’s head. Though, the enormous spear-like tip was outlined by his wet trunks.
Sitting back on her heels, she plucked up the e-waiter device.
“Another glass of ice water, extra large, please.”

Damn, he shivered inside like a wind-buffeted leaf. Feeling again, the blaze-icy sting of water being poured on his pleading arousal. God, he wanted it again. And he didn’t. He wanted to watch her stream the erotic torture over his cock. But hell, not more than he wanted to jump her lusciously curved bones. Feel her struggle wildly beneath him, as he pleasured her to wanting him so desperately, she writhed like an utter wanton. Against his entire body. Then parted her wet thighs, crying for him to ride her to orgasm, into their oblivion. Theirs, alone.
“Yes, extra large.”

Hell, she’d give his towering manhood its obvious due. It was definitely ‘extra large’. Crap, the whole man was extra large in stature. Or he wouldn’t be blocking her sun so effectively. Damn, she’d need an extra large glass of extra icy water to shrink that son o’ shooting sperm. Sorrenna nearly laughed hysterically. An image of her rolling, holding herself, laughing until her sides hurt grabbed her mind’s eye. Come to think of it, maybe that would cut it down to size. If she suddenly fell over in a screaming fit of laughter. Timber!!!
“Extra large for extra large.”

Even though her voice dripped with a healthy dose of sarcasm, Drave’s ‘extra large’ bobbed appreciatively, straining the waistband of this trunks. Fucking hell, at least, her gaze remained fastened on his brave cock. But was that a suppressed giggle he’d heard? He bent forward, peering past the wet tent of his trunks to study her face. Her shoulders began to shake slightly, as if she controlled herself. She chewed on her cherry-plump bottom lip. And he would have bet a hefty sum, laughter glittered in her eyes. Hysterical laughter. Now the gorgeous swells of her breasts quivered.
“Go ahead.”


Go ahead? Had she heard right? Her stifled giggles escaped like small bubbles. At first. Her shoulders shook faster. Then her laughter burst free, springing up from deep inside her belly. Louder and louder. Hugging herself Sorrenna collapsed back on her heels. Her laughter erupted uncontrollably, cascades of rising sound. Whenever she managed to open her eyes, she only laughed harder, since the wet jut of his trunks remained impressively the same. Extra large, his cock still towered above her. Although, his balled fists were now white beneath his tan.
Sorrenna laughed as if she hadn’t laughed in ages.

Timber?! Drave arched one brow, even as he ogled the sheer sexual beauty of her jiggling breasts like a damn deprived pervert. Her uninhibited laughter should have shrunk his libido down to a lesser size, and made his trunks feel a hell of a lot more comfortable. Nope. Like a besotted fool, he relished the sight of her unrestrained reaction to him, even though she howled harder every time she glanced at his unsinkable cock. My god, the delicate, yet lush line of her creamy throat, revealed as she laughed, tempted his mouth to consume her with kisses.

Laughter threatening to split her sides, Sorrenna fell over on her side, her arms wrapped around herself. She rolled back and forth, the hot sand beneath her towel a wonderful cushion, and not a deterrent whatsoever to her unceasing chortles. Faster and faster, she shook with her shrill guffaws. God, it hurt, and she couldn’t make it stop. And it felt good all at the same time. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. Now all she could do was lay weakly on her back, with absolutely no sun shining on her, and laugh.
“Make it stop. Go away.”

No with a capital N, he wasn’t going away. Yeah, fuck, he could make ‘it stop’. Damn hell, he wanted to make it stop. But she’d never let him near her bed, let alone her precious all-perfect life, if he launched on top of her like a raunchy humping dog, and ravished her to a raw blazing lust. Here. In front of everyone. On a public beach. Not that he’d mind. He didn’t care with her. Truth to God. All he hellfire cared about was her. Having her. Fucking her forever.
“If I go away, I can’t make it stop.”

If you go AWAY, it will stop, she desperately wanted to shout at the brainless male who looked like he could be a man-bull hybrid. But, her vocal chords refused to cooperate. Nearly exhausted, and boneless as a ragdoll, Sorrenna opened one eye. It was still there and still damned extra large. Helplessly, she vibrated with more chuckles. Some crappy unhappy vacation, she thought, yet, shook with more laughter. God, her sides hurt. Hell, her hand was so limp on her belly, she couldn’t lift it. Damn, except for her uninhibited laughter, her vacation had taken a vacation.
“Get lost.”

Lost in you. Lost between your sexier-than-heaven thighs. Lost between the gorgeous swells of your breasts. Yeah, baby doll, I’ll get lost. Lost in you until your pussy begs and bucks for my hammering cock. Drave accepted the giant-sized glass of ice water, the cubes rattling against the sides of the sweating glass as he brought it before his chest. His cock didn’t know whether to shrivel like a coward or do an erotic bobbing happy dance. God, she was the perfect temptress as she lay still, conquered by her own laughter
“You’ll get lost every time I kiss you.”


Yeah, sure. In what universe? Yet, her traitorous lips tingled, a tiny bit. It had been ages since she’d kissed a man. Balefully, and with one eye, she stared at the extra large glass of water above the man’s extra proud cock. Rivulets of moisture ran down the sides of the glass. Dripping down his beefy-sized, yet somewhat attractive hand. It was just too damn bad, for her, she’d laughed herself into exhaustion. Or, she could rise up and give his Mr. Extra Large another icy dose of her extreme displeasure. If he handed it over.
“Save me the trouble.”

Drave fastened his gaze on her, as he’d never done on anyone or anything in his life. Even when facing down the bad guys, holding weapons bigger than he held, who wanted like every fucking hell, to take him apart piece by bloody-dripping piece. Then throw him to the fishes. The urge to turn the glass over, and slowly pour a stream of icy water on her gorgeous middle, then dive down and lap it off her silken skin, before one drop escaped, scorched through him hotter than the sun.
“Hell, I am blocking your sun. You should thank me.”

His words rolled roughly over her flesh. And his bold stare penetrated her like she knew Mr. Extra Large wanted to penetrate her. Still recovering from her laughing fit, Sorrenna considered how to resolve her galling ridiculous situation. Mr. Determined Bull was not the type of man a woman appealed to for mercy from his humping lust. Quirky inspiration struck her the next moment. With the double whammy of her curiosity. Why not? She eyed the water glass for several seconds, then slid her gaze down to his cock. Then up. Then down again.
“Does it look like a bull?”

From her silent communication, Drave nearly dumped the glass of ice water on his own desperate cock, fiercely surprising himself. Still, her question stunned him even more. And he fucking figured, it had stunned her too. By her frozen expression, and the flash of wild fright in her eyes, quickly replaced with defiance. In a fraction of a second, he decided. Gritting his teeth, he slowly saturated the front of his trunks with icy water, outlining his desire for her. His cock complained, aching like fire.
“ Does it look like a bull? Or, am I bull-sized? What do you think?”

Never had Sorrenna felt so utterly still. She couldn’t feel her breath. For a cock, it did make somewhat of a majestic impression, in all it’s icy soaked glory, she had to admit. Effing hell, not that she knew much about a man’s penis, not being an avid *drooling* connoisseur of the male anatomy. Damn beyond damn, why had she impulsively blurted out a private thought? It had impaled her brain like a lightning bolt? Then leapt from her lips. What was she supposed to do now? Actually answer Mr. Extra Large’s questions?
“More like a marble monument, I think.”

It was his turn to bust a gut laughing. Drave allowed the corners his mouth to curl upwards, briefly. Too bad his ‘marble monument’ ached, burned viciously. Too fucking bad his cock strained toward her like a barbarian who’d finally found a woman after years of deprivation...or, he would let loose. Boom with guffaws. Shake the sun-drenched air. Fall beside her, and quit blocking her sun. Then touch her.
No, his restrained laughter quivered his stomach muscles, because his needy greedy cock ruled. Ready to mount her senseless.
“I’ll donate my marble monument to your private museum. Delivery date?”


Enjoying his clever-enough innuendo, Sorrenna allowed a small smile to curve her lips. Damn his giant blocking hide, it might be an invitation, yet his incredible perseverance would likely continue, whether she grinned, or not. He returned her smile in kind. Hell, at least, he looked at her face. Not just her body. Perseverance was a quality she admired, even if Mr. Extra Large’s bullish behavior was boorish in the extreme. In point of fact, she could use a man like him as a silent member of her investigations team.
“Go away now. I’ll have a drink with you later.”

Her little smile did things to his insides, his best lovers hadn’t done in bed, or wherever they’d fucked. Groaning inwardly, he shut his eyes, her plump beautifully-shaped mouth a torment he couldn’t endure, without straddling her like a mad mating bull, and taking her unwilling lips. God as his witness, he wanted her. Bad. Bad to the bone. His bone of aching cock, that refused to give up hope, it was going for a long sweet hot ride inside her sultry heat. Soon. He groaned inwardly again, a special agony coursing up his torso. A damn drink later...

November 18, 2008

Promise. He wanted her to promise him she would have a drink with him...yes. However, the way he’d spoken it, he also wanted her promise that she would be his willing sexual prize, afterwards. For an instant, she stared unblinking at his stalwart frame, obviously not deprived of the sun’s benefits, since his skin was bronzed. Her eye traveled from his who-cares-if-you-kick-me shins upwards. And, she wished the sex-crazed idiot would, at least, turn to the side, so the sun could shine above the tip of his lance-like cock. So, she wouldn’t be deprived.
“Want a specially engraved invitation?”

‘Yeah, written right on the hard length of my cock with your nails, baby doll.’ Fuck, anything to ease the pulsing agony. Her cute little nails carving out a special invitation, seemed a lot less painful, than his unrelieved manhood. Still, Drave liked her grit, hell, almost as much as he liked her beautifully curvaceous body. ‘Like’ being an available word, that barely covered the way he really felt. But, damn, yes, he wanted an engraved invitation from her, simply because it meant she’d show up. And he had to have that.
“Yes. As special as you can make it.”


Tomorrow, the Kougar will be blogging at Title Magic ~ Magic or Murder by Edit ~ the subject being process of editing her manuscript, Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis ~

A kiss of enchantment from the Kougar...

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