I'd like to introduce you all to my dear friend, Jen/Abigail. No, she doesn't have MPD...although, sometimes I wonder. She's got a brand new writing persona for her fanfreakingtastic erotic romances.
To celebrate the release of her first ever erotic romance, I've interviewed Jen/Abigail AND she's giving away a .PDF of her new Vampire-Pirate romance, Ravenous, available here from Samhain Publishing. Just leave a comment here and feel free to ask questions. (Leave a comment by 9/9/10 at 8pm)
Bio: The alter-ego of USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer Armintrout, Abigail Barnette was born during a conversation with author Bronwyn Green, who encouraged Jennifer to develop an elaborate fantasy persona-- complete with nom de plume-- under which to pen erotic romance. Abigail enjoys long naps in fairy-filled glades, running through corridors in tragically romantic haunted castles, and drinking goblet after goblet of spiced wine.
What to know more about the wonder that is Jen/Abigail? Read on, dear readers!
Tell us about a typical day in the life of Jennifer Armintrout/Abgail Barnette.
Jennifer wakes up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy, but that feeling immediately fades when she remembers she has two kids to run around after and a stack of dishes to clean. Luckily, the children are trained to worship the television so she can get some writing done. And by writing, I mean trolling internet forums. Abigail's day is much different. She wakes up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy, and the feeling lasts all day.
What type of research do you do for your books?
Very little. I generally will get an idea in my mind for a setting or a time period, then flip through a few websites to get a general feel, and then if a specific question comes up, I try to find the answer. The best thing about the "historical" stuff I'm writing as Abigail is that it's very, very velour. I don't have to know how to bake bread in a stone hutch or something.
From what or where do you derive the most inspiration for your stories?
Abigail's stories come from a very naughty place in my brain that will look at a historical gown and think, "I bet it would be hot to get f***ed wearing that.
Tell us about your upcoming releases.
September 7th I have Abigail's first book, Ravenous, coming out from Samhain, and that's a story about hot vampire on human romancing on a pirate ship. Pirate vampires. Then in November, I think, I have Glass Slipper coming out from Resplendence. That one is just what it sounds like, a retelling of Cinderella in which a beautiful, but impoverished, maiden is trained by her weathly, handsome godfather to be a perfect seductress in the hopes that she'll snag the prince by the... nose.
What are you working on at the moment?
Right now I'm working on the first in a planned trilogy of steampunk erotica set in a kinky Victorian sex club. What do you like best about being a writer? What do you like least?
The thing I like best is being able to work from home. I can wear my pajamas, I can have a beer at ten in the morning and I don't have to hide it in a thermos. It's pretty much the most awesome job I can think of. But the downside is the crippling doubt. You're trying to entertain your reader, and it's a very strange feeling, kind of like being a stand-up comic or something, worrying about whether or not people will boo you.
What would you do if you weren’t a writer?
Yikes, I don't even want to think of such a possibility. I'd have to go to college.
What do you enjoy doing when you’re not writing?
Sleeping. It's not a sexy answer, but there, I said it. I love naps.
Of all of the characters you’ve created, who is your favorite and why?
Oh, that's very difficult, because they're all likable to me, in some way. I think my favorite character I've written as Abigail is Julien Auvrey, from the upcoming Glass Slipper, because he's just a bit past his prime and trying to deal with the fact that people don't see him as the dashing young rake anymore.
Do you find it difficult to keep love/sex scenes fresh and interesting?
As a good Catholic girl, I should say yes, but that would be a lie. I'm consistently shocking myself with what I come up with!
What genre of books least appeals to you and why?
True crime. I just can't deal with that kind of grimness. I read for escape.
Do you listen to music when you write or do you need quiet?
If you listen to music – what kind? It depends on the project I'm working on. Right now, writing in a steampunk setting, I'm listening to a lot of industrial music and gothic type bands, like Rasputina. Over the summer I was writing American Vampire for Mira, and that involved listening to so much Bruce Springsteen that I actually have dreams that we're besties. What makes a man sexy?
Besides a huge cock? I would say his voice. I'm attracted to a person's voice before I'm attracted to anything else about them.
Do you family and friends know you write erotic romance – if so, how have they reacted?
I come from a very strict Roman Catholic upbringing, so when I announced that I was writing erotica, I might as well have sat them all down and forced them to watch a homemade porno I'd done, or something. Now, though, they're getting quite interested, waiting to see how much money is involved and how many books I'll actually write for this market.
If you were stranded on a desert isle, what five things would you want to have with you?
As it just so happens, this is a recurring fantasy of mine. I would like to have my laptop, wifi access, my books, a vibrator, and a teleporter so I can leave when I want.
If you could travel back in time, would you? If so, what time period would you visit and why?
Does it have to be actual history, or can it be romance novel history? Because I would love to snag a sexy knight in the middle ages, but not the real middle ages, with lice and disease.
On to Ravenous.
Blurb: One man claims her by day, another by night. Together they lay claim to her heart.
Annabelle Whittington sails toward Jamaica, and marriage to a wealthy plantation owner, on winds of hope. Hope that she hasn’t saved her virginity only to be doomed to proper English wifehood, never to fully satisfy her sexual curiosity. Then the sails of the pirate ship Howling Hades appear on the horizon.
Captain Galerius’s demands are simple: in exchange for her blood to slake his eternal thirst, and her body to quell his voracious lust, he will guarantee safe passage. Except his motives are less than pure. In his hold is another prisoner, Ian Drummond, who must soon be replaced…with Annabelle.
But Ian has plans of his own, and they don’t include giving up his lover so easily. And, once he gets a taste of Annabelle’s sweet blend of innocence and boldness, he can’t imagine living without either one of them.
Annabelle, sensing the tortured soul beneath the monster, refuses to let Galerius intimidate her—and finds an unexpected ally in the infuriating, maddening Ian. As danger threatens the Hades, she is faced with a choice. Return to her life of duty, or embrace her spirit of adventure…and sail the high seas with the men who have captured her heart.
Want a steamy hot excerpt? Who am I kidding, of course, you do!
(although this does require a bit of set-up. Drummond and Annabelle are prisoners of the vampire pirate captain Galerius, who has put a spell upon them so that their presence will not be noticed by the crew):
Annabelle looked around them. The crew swarmed everywhere. As one sailor hurried past her with a bucket of hot tar, she had to sidestep him. “Right here?”
“Why not?” Drummond began unfastening the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, the presumptuous... Annabelle struggled to think of the worst word she could imagine. The presumptuous ass!
“They can’t see us,” he continued, pulling the loose ties at his collar free. “They can’t hear us. And you have to admit, the thought of it arouses you. Your breath has quickened, your throat is flushed. Those beautiful gray eyes are practically glazed over in anticipation.”
He mistook her flush for desire, when it was one of anger. “You think an awful lot of yourself. Why would I lie with you? Simply because you’re the only man available?”
He smirked. “Not because I’m the only man available. You’ll lie with me because you want me.”
“Your opinion of yourself is rather high.” Though her fingers trembled, they strayed to the ties at her sleeves. She loosened one, then the other, then reached for the ribbons that crisscrossed at her bosom. She pulled one tail of the bow at the top, slowly, enjoying the way Drummond’s hungry gaze followed her every movement
“If you won’t lie with me,” he asked, pulling his shirt over his head, “then who?”
She pulled her arms free of the bodice of her gown and let it slip to the deck at her feet. Exposed to the chill air, her nipples puckered and her skin turned to gooseflesh. Well, it was partly from the chill air. A rush of heat flooded her core, and her knees went weak at the thrill of being so exposed, before so many people. Even if only Drummond could see her, the effect was heady. She slid one hand over the tops of her breasts, then down the valley between them, over the soft plane of her stomach. Every inch her hand covered, Drummond covered with his gaze, and she teased him, running her fingers across the top of the tightly curled hair on her mound.
Drummond grinned. “Lovely. Come here.”
She shook her head and backed away slowly. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the men working at patching the canvas. The sail was stretched out on the deck, the sailors kneeling around it. The most encouraging, wicked thrill shot through her.
“What are you doing?” Drummond asked, following as she approached the edge of the sail.
She dropped to her knees and timidly placed one hand on the material. None of them seemed to notice, and she gave it a little tug, just to make certain they would not. She climbed onto it, holding her breath, certain something would happen to force them to see her. But the men did not. They kept working.
Drummond gave a laugh. “You’re right, you are rather adventurous, aren’t you?”
She turned on her back, propped on her elbows, but she said nothing. When Drummond fell to his knees and crawled forward, she stopped him with a foot against his chest. “I told you, I won’t lie with you.”
His face fell, and Annabelle almost laughed at his crestfallen expression, as though he were a little boy who’d been denied a puppy. Then that expression changed to another insufferable smirk. “You’re teasing me.”
“You’ve only just caught on?” She scooted back and laid flat, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. On either side of her, the sailors worked at their task, their hands moving just inches from her naked body. They could not see her, could not hear her, but if they touched her...
The fear of discovery only heightened her arousal, and her body ached as she smoothed her hands across her breasts, her belly, her thighs, but she did not touch where she so very much wanted to. If she had learned anything from Drummond, it was that delaying pleasure brought greater gratification.
She closed her eyes and imagined the men’s hands on her, faceless, nameless bodies brushing against her. She let her knees fall open, and Drummond made a strangled noise.
She paid him no mind, but slid her palm over the gentle rise of her stomach, inching lower to cup her mound. Her folds were already slick. She dipped her fingers into the wetness and brought them to her mouth, opening her eyes to watch Drummond as she tasted herself on her fingers.
“I take it back,” he said, wetting his lips. “You have plenty of imagination.”
She laughed and let her eyes fall closed again as she touched herself in earnest, pulling more slick heat from her core. Lost to the heady thrill, she bucked her hips against her hand and rolled her sensitive nub between two fingers. With a groan, Drummond tried again to move closer, and she stilled her hand.
“Will you show me?” she asked, panting, as he crawled over her.
“Show you what?” He gripped the base of his cock, hard and eager for her, and braced himself over her, the tip of him just brushing her mound.
“What it’s like to lie with two men.” It took all of her self-control not to reach for him, to slide him home.
His face was unreadable. A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw. Finally, he nodded.
When he did, Annabelle squirmed from beneath him and climbed to her feet.
Drummond stared up at her, still holding his cock, confusion creasing his brow. “What are you...wait...”
“Tonight,” she promised, and strode away, scooping up the discarded gown. Her body still burned for release, and she planned to have it, locked safely in the cabin where Drummond could not follow.
Want more? Of course you do! Go pick up your copy here!