Monday, 5 May 2014

Author Interview

My inspirational author this month is Debra Glass. Before I even considered writing an erotic romance myself, I discovered Debra’s books and she became one of my favourite authors (in particular ‘Twice the Novice’ – I adored the tailed butt plug scene!).

Over to you:

Thanks so much, Jennifer, for inviting me to blog and talk about my historical, Rakehell! I’m Debra Glass, Southern Belle, self-avowed cat lady, and card-carrying member of the Cumbercollective. I write erotic historical romance, with a few paranormals tossed in for good measure.

About You

What’s the strangest (bravest, funniest etc) thing you’ve ever done?

At the time, I didn’t really consider it brave, but looking back, it was the time I, at nineteen, traveled to Germany to live a short time with a German family. I majored in the language in college, so it was only natural to want to visit the country. It was educational on myriad levels. I’m glad I went and I still correspond with my German family.
(Hey, I did the same, except it was when I was working as a nanny rather than learning the language. I lived in Koln – Cologne – from 1983-84)

What’s your guiltiest pleasure?

My daughter is a very talented singer / songwriter, but when she’s writing and practicing, she doesn’t want anyone to listen. I sneak up and hang out outside her door just to listen. I’m glad she performs locally. I go to every show and am a proud momma!

What do you do when you’re not writing?

When I’m not writing, I’m herding my glaring of cats. Last year, we added two rescues to the one cat we’d had for years. He adapted very well, but the new kitten is a momma’s boy who won’t let me leave the room without following me. Since writing is such a solitary profession, my crazy-cat-lady starter kit offers a lot of company.
(I agree – our pets help us in our solitary writers’ lives)

Who was the first boy/girl you kissed?

The first boy I ever kissed was the boy next door, of course!
(Same here!)

If you had one item to take into the bedroom with you what would it be?

My kindle! I love my kindle fire, loaded with all my favorite books.

Favourite rainy day activity?

On rainy days, I love to take a nap and listen to the rain fall outside. Writing’s good on rainy days, too.

One thing about yourself you would like to change?

I wish I were more focused with my writing. I have a bit of a lazy streak and the older I get, the more distracted by other things I get.
(I get distracted by computer games! *sigh*)

Name three people you would like to be shipwrecked with (and why)?

Benedict Cumberbatch – does he really need an explanation? I love the uber-intelligent characters he plays. Besides, he seems like a super nice guy. And oh, he’s really sexy.

Kevin Spacey – As an actor, he has such chemistry with everyone with whom he’s in a scene. He’s funny and adorable and diabolically ruthless as Frank Underwood in House of Cards.

Gordon Ramsey – He might dog cuss the lot of us, but at least we wouldn’t go hungry.

Your Writing

Tell us about your latest book.

My latest release is Rakehell, a Victorian era erotic romance with light BDSM elements.

About Rakehell

Lady Primrose Black has a dilemma. Her father-in-law’s dying wish is that she reunite with her estranged husband and produce an heir. She hasn’t laid eyes on Lord Black since their wedding night five years ago, when he left Scarborough Hall in a rage. Nevertheless, she resolves to find him, knowing once she does she will have to use every method at her disposal to entice the rake she never stopped loving.
Viscount Adam Black harbors dark needs and he will accept no less than his wife’s complete and utter surrender. Each sensual encounter leaves Primrose wanting more but as she submits to her husband’s every decadent desire, she resolves not to lose him again. For the secret that drove Adam away still haunts him. And this time it could prove fatal for them both.
Inside Scoop: This nineteenth-century heroine explores her naughty side in this Victorian romance with BDSM elements.

A Romantica® historical erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
(I HAVE to buy!)

What makes a great hero?

I love multi-layered heroes that are a mix of alpha and beta. I sigh when a hero who is tortured by emotions or experiences is healed through love. A good hero has to intuitively know what the heroine wants and needs and then selflessly give it to her.

Do you have anything in common with your characters?

I suppose all my characters are a little bit me, but they do, say, and act in ways that I would not. They often hijack my stories and write their own.
(Too true!)

Is there any trivia about your latest/forthcoming story that you can share with us (eg, the name of a real life pet that you used in the story)?

I’m working on Lashwood who was my favorite secondary character from Rakehell and just yesterday, I added in my kitten, Sheldon! Here’s a snippet: She hadn’t been at all attentive to housekeeping since Dru’s disappearance. And while Jessamine was quite comfortable with Sheldon, who made himself entirely at home on whatever surface struck his feline fancy, she doubted Lord Lashwood would look favorably on finding a cat hair floating in his teacup.
(Haha! I like)

When did you write your first book (and is it published)?

I self pubbed my first book when I was in third grade. It was a story about a seahorse named Dinah. My classmates checked the construction paper book out from me, read it and returned it. My first published romance was Gatekeeper, a paranormal tale inspired by an encounter I with a ghost at the Shiloh Battlefield.

What are you currently working on, or what’s on the horizon?

I’m working on Lashwood which is contracted with Ellora’s Cave. It’s Benedict’s (The hero’s name and the fact that I chose Benedict Cumberbatch as one of the three with whom I’d like to be stranded on an island is no coincidence) story and will be a little bit of a mystery.

How do you come up with inspiration for your books?

I get inspiration from everything and everybody! My brain never shuts off at how a news story, a person, or a piece of history can be made into a story.

What’s the hardest part of writing?

Life gets in the way of my writing! There’s always something to clean. (Being a neatfreak doesn’t help!) I stay busy with my daughters. With three cats, I’m constantly passing out treats, filling bowls, cleaning the kitty water fountain, and “mining for gold” in twin litter boxes. I love connecting with my friends on Facebook, so I’m a bit of a social media addict. Hubby and I enjoy binge watching the latest series, whatever it may be. The day just gets by so fast!

Quick Fire round

Tall skinny men or short but muscular?

I like someone who’s fit and who has charisma. He doesn’t have to be tall, skinny, or muscular, but I’m just sayin’ … Mr. Cumberbatch as Khan in Star Trek Into Darkness … yum.

Hawaii or Norway?

I’d pick the sparkling waters of the Caribbean any day over Hawaii. And after this frigid winter, Norway is out. Way out.

Turquoise or mauve?

Turquoise – my Cherokee roots are showing.

A juicy grilled steak with garlic butter or vanilla & raspberry cheesecake with white chocolate?

The sweets for certain! I don’t eat beef and must be part vampire. I loathe garlic.

Historical or sci-fi movie?

Oh no. My two favorite genres. I’d just have to plan to watch one of each.

George Clooney or Brad Pitt?

Hey, I write erotic romance where a girl doesn’t have to choose. She can have both.
(Good one!)

Flogging or paddling?

**Snicker** Paddling, but with one of those fur-lined paddles that doesn’t hurt. I’m no pain slut.

Bouquet of roses of bunch of wild flowers?

Roses. I’m high-maintenance and proud of it, though I’d much prefer jewelry to flowers.


Links of how fans can find you on the internet?

Romance Novel Stock Photos –

Excerpt from Rakehell:

Primrose squinted as she stepped toward what appeared to be a man lying on a silk bed between two completely nude women whose limbs draped possessively over his. One of the long, narrow opium pipes lay discarded at the side of the bed.
She hadn’t laid eyes on Lord Black in the five years since their wedding night. But even in this sordid place, her heart fluttered as she recognized her husband.
But for the nasty bruise over his left eye, he looked content—so unlike the last time she’d seen him, his expression stormy and black, his hair wild about his swarthy face, his amber eyes glittering like the garnet pin secured in the folds of his snowy neckcloth. In his wedding finery, he’d been devastatingly handsome.
Naked, even after all this time, he was magnificent.
Dark hairs wisped across the muscled plane of his chest, growing thicker and wilder as they formed a tight trail leading from his navel downward. Primrose pursed her lips as she looked her fill at his flaccid phallus, lying so innocently in its nest of curls.
Her breathing hitched as she recalled how that particular part of his anatomy had looked on their wedding night. Erect, proud—and terrifying.
Then, she’d been but a green debutante, barely old enough to marry and wholly unprepared to become a wife.
Well, she was different now. Older. More mature. Better acquainted with the depths of deception men would go to in order to advance themselves in the world.
Lord Black hadn’t changed. That was obvious. He was still a rakehell and a rogue.
She kept that foremost in her mind as terror that he could have easily been killed at the hands of some back alley mobsman.
With her thumb and index finger, Primrose lifted one of the women’s hands off his chest, flung it aside, and then punched him in the shoulder. Hard.
His eyes snapped open and focused. His clouded gaze collided with hers and held. Then, the hardness returned. The ice. His brows lowered. “I’ve died and gone to hell.”
“Not quite yet, dear husband.”
He shirked free of one of the women and raked a hand through his hair. “I never figured you for a bounden slave in the trammels of opium.”
Primrose resisted the impulse to sigh lest she breathe in the substance and contaminate herself. “Get up from there. I’ve come to fetch you back to Scarborough Hall.”
At that, he laughed heartily. “You?” He chortled again.
She tightened her fingers around the ribbons of her reticule to keep from trembling. She’d vowed to hate him—and hate him she did—so why did the mere sight of him still turn her insides to porridge?
He reached for the pipe and hailed a Chinese boy who sat waiting to assist.
“No!” Primrose knocked it away. “I’ll not permit it.”
His eyebrow arched wickedly. She half-thought he might, in his drugged craze, lunge after her and pummel her senseless, though she’d only ever witnessed his temper once when he’d struck the wall in their bedchamber.
“Well, my little wife has grown a spine.” His admiring gaze raked her from head to toe and then back up again, causing chills to rise on her flesh in spite of the close confines of the den. “I thought you’d hightailed it back to New York. What, pray tell, has you venturing into an opium den in Whitechapel to drag me away from this pair of very willing women?”
She winced at his barb as one of the women began to stir. When the ginger haired female—who most assuredly had never once been referred to as a lady—reached for Adam’s privates, Primrose gasped and turned her head away.
“My lord, you’re positively indecent.” And yet, was that a twinge of jealousy nibbling at her? She shivered and twisted her head farther in the opposite direction. God forbid.
“There, there, pet.” His plaintive coos to the woman raised Primrose’s hackles. She’d thought she’d heard it all until he continued. “My wife’s about and though I’d relish another tumble with you, at least let me rid myself of her first.”
Primrose could ignore his jibes no longer. All thought of delicacy, of delivering bad news to him gently, faded as she snapped her head around. “Your father is on his deathbed, and had he not called out for you specifically, trust me,” she spewed, gesturing expansively toward the den’s occupants, “I’d leave you here to wither away with this lot of miscreants and reprobates.”
Adam stared and for a brief instant, Primrose recognized a shard of remorse that softened the gemstone hardness in his eyes. Jerking her chin, she reminded herself of the one time before she’d seen that look. But that was long ago and she was no longer a child in love, an innocent offered up for the slaughter.

Buy Rakehell!

Ellora's Cave | Amazon | B&N | ARE | Kobo

Thanks for having me, Jennifer. It was fun.

And thank you for being interrogated! Next month’s victim is Raven McAllen.


  1. I enjoyed the interview! I am looking forward to reading Rakehell!

  2. Thanks, Angieia! And thanks Jennifer, for hosting me today!

  3. You are very welcome, Debra! :)