Come on and join author Melissa Bradley as she sets off on her latest adventure...
If you are not 18, please exit stage left. While there is normally nothing naughty here, I do write and review erotica so there are links to spicy stuff and the occasional heated excerpt.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
An Interview With... Tracy L. Ranson
Hello out there in the Imaginarium. I am clapping my hands and clicking my heels because I have the terrific Tracy L. Ranson here today. She is the author of such wonderful works as The Warlord's Woman and Pirate of the Mist, both from Siren Publishing. An avid history fan, Tracy has always had a passion for writing and with the love and support of her husband she now gets to live her dream.
What was the inspiration behind your latest release? Great question! Well, there’s quite a few things actually. The book started out in life as THE CONQUEROR from New Concepts Publishing. The tale was written in 1997 as part of my therapy for all the personal issues I was going through at the time. I was newly married still didn’t quite get DH. Still don’t at times….LOL….I just shake my head and walk away. Let’s just say the love of my life almost walked out on me at the time. But we worked through things and we’re still happily married almost fourteen years later.
The book has been extensively re-written and retitled SEDUCING THE DUCHESS coming from DCL Publications very soon. I don’t have an exact release date but it should be very soon! This book will always have a special place in my heart not because it’s the first book I ever wrote but because it helped me through a lot of grief during a rough period of my life.
When did you know that you wanted to be a writer? LOL---When didn’t I know? I think my parents suspected long before I did. I’d always rewrite the endings to my children’s books if I didn’t like them or when my mom would tell us stories at night before we went to bed, I’d tell her what I wanted the ending to be. My dad would always read to us from history books and that captivated me from an early age so I guess I’d have to say both my parents fostered my love for the written word.
What do you love most about being a writer? You mean besides everything? ROFL—actually it’s the fans that do it for me. I get email from fans telling me how much they love this story or that one or how it’s helped them get through some tough times. I’ve actually got a written letter from a fan in California who is seriously ill. She wrote to me to tell me how much my stories meant to her and that it helped her through her treatments. Once I have my office completed, it’s going to hang on my wall as a reminder to why I do this when my nasty self doubts creep in. Also, it’s the industry professionals and all the friends I’ve made. Take Gail Delaney and Phyllis Campbell for instance. All of us started out in a critique group together and look at them now. Gail heads up Desert Breeze Publishing and Phyllis is the Queen of Sexual Tension then there’s lil’ ol me. These two ladies are not only great writers but also great friends. There are so many others that someone’d get tired of reading the list. Everyone knows who they are and how special they are to me.
What genre haven’t you tried, yet, that you would love to explore? Ooooh, good one. Hmm, may have to try m/m erotica but the right story hasn’t hit me yet. Also, steampunk might be another one. When I find out what it is, I might try it!!!! LOL…..
If we looked on your bookshelf right now, what are some of the titles we would find? You’d find a lot of Catherine Coulter, Angela Knight, Jackie Collins, Kitty Kelley (I’m a sucker for the dirt even if most of it’s made up!). Also, you’ll find a TON of non-fiction for research purposes. I normally go to Half Price books to find them. To me, that’s like crack. My husband and enabler always want to drag me there every payday. I have to go in with no money, credit cards or anything other means of currency. Of course, I start tweaking halfway through….LOL….I love books. Can’t ya tell?
Music or silence when you write? Music definitely! Helps to set the mood for me. The type of music depends on what I write. If I’m writing a medieval, then I’ll listen to Celtic music. If it’s contemporary, it also depends on if it’s a dark or light piece then I’ll choose appropriate musice for it.
If you could take one of your characters out on the town, who would it be and what would you do? You mean I have to choose? That’s not fair!!! LOL……it’s hard to say really. Hmmmm, you mean I have to choose just one? Okay, my choice would be debonair Nicholas Wetherington from BLOODBOORN 2: PRINCE OF SHADOW. He’s tall, debonair and oh so sexy! I’ve had one reviewer say she wanted him to jump off the page and into her living room! That’s a great compliment to writing a hero.
BTW, with Nicholas, there isn’t anything I WOULDN’T do….
Favorite naughty dessert and decadent drink. Any easy question! Being a diabetic and not able to have sugar anymore, I’ll have to remember back when I did (it’s been a few years.). Hmmm, I’ll have to say chocolate cake with a fudge filling in the center. I’m a HUGE baker and I bake everything from scratch. I used to make this great chocolate cake with a deep dark chocolate fudge filling. Everyone raved over it wherever I took it and it was always gone first thing. I do miss it to be honest but anymore, if I make it, I’ll take a bite of the piece hubby has (darn it, he never gains a pound---guess it’s all the gym time!) and it satisfies my craving. As far as decadent drink, I love a good grasshopper. I’m a mint fiend.
To learn more about Tracy and her fantastic works, please visit her at her website, http://www.tracylranson.com/
Her latest is entitled, Seducing the Duchess, due out soon from DCL Publications. Here is a little excerpt...
Kieran of Stratford arrives home from the Crusade to find all he knew gone—from his title to his fiancée—cruelly taken by his brother, Hugh. His army is far too small to battle his brother’s so that leaves only one place to turn.
Constance of Ravenwood.
Constance despises Kieran for everything she believes he is but when he comes to ask for aid, she decides to grant him one audience—to turn him down. When their eyes meet, Constance feels the instant pull of attraction despite their embittered past. Together, they realize the long dead desires rekindle with the slightest touch and softest kiss. In the happiness they discover with each other, a dark shadow looms and waits for the perfect moment to destroy them both.
Her chapel glimmered in the morning brightness. Pale light flickered from the half burned tapers in their sconces. Twinkles of gold echoed from the altar, dancing around the room.
Constance ’s gaze flicked to the knave where a tall, black-wool-clad priest stood, his hands buried in his sleeves. A cowl covered his head so she could not see his features. She frowned. His form appeared very large, as if he had been constructed of all muscle.
She slipped her veil on and entered the chamber. She genuflected at the altar and knelt in front of the priest. “Many thanks for arriving to hear my confession, Father.” The priest nodded, but said nothing. “Shall I begin?”
He stood and waited silently, gesturing for her to begin.
“Bless me, Father, for it has been a short time since I have confessed my sins.” She exhaled a long breath. “My most serious sin is that I yearn for something I cannot and will not allow myself to have.” She had debated with herself part of the night whether or not confess her desires or attraction to Kieran. It would be a greater sin not to confess.
“Go on, my child,” he said, his deep voice low with a familiar ring to it. “Confess your sins to me and be forgiven.”
Constance froze. The timbre sounded like an echo from the past, but where had she heard it? “I desire a man whom I should not.”
“Do you desire to take him into your bed?”
Tears sprang to her eyes. Aye, she did. She wanted him more than any other man she had ever known. “Of course not. I would only do so if I were his bride.”
“If you were wed, would you still desire him?”
Shame filled her and she nodded. “Aye, I do and always have, though he would not accept me as his bride in his younger days. He even killed my hawk to make sure our marriage would never take place.” Tears rolled down her face as she bowed her head. There, she had said those words that had been haunting her for so long.
“Close your eyes, my child, while I give you absolution.”
Constance did as the priest bade her, waiting for words of salvation. Large hands descended on her head. The man mumbled words in Latin as his fingers slipped down her veil and circled under her ears. Callused flesh brushed against the underside of her jaw and tilted her head up. His thumbs brushed away the tracks of her tears. She wanted to open her eyes and face him, but she kept them tightly shut.
Soft lips caressed hers, gentle with a hint of passion. She leaned into his kiss and begged for him to deepen his intimate caress. He obliged her. Parting her lips, she allowed him to explore the recesses of her mouth.
Pulses of excitement pushed through her breasts to her nipples, turning them to taut peaks beneath her bodice. Dear Lord, this man aroused her deepest desires and he was a priest, no less!
Her senses returned in a flurry and she broke the kiss, pushing him away. “Do not accost me in such fashion. You are a man of the cloth.” The air in her chest tightened as shame and guilt rattled her soul.
“I have not forgotten.”
Constance turned to the priest. He lifted his head slightly, enough to allow her to see the bottom of his face. His strong chin and full lower lip came into view. Anger surged as she recognized those unmistakable features. She ripped the cowl back. Kieran stared at her with a smug grin and lusty look in his eyes. “Kieran! I should have known you were low enough to do something of this nature.”
His smiled widened as his arm locked around her waist and pulled her against his body. “There is no level I would not stoop to in order to have you.”
She lifted her head. Their gazes locked. “What I confessed to you before was a lie. I knew you to be the priest all along.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “The last of your words is the lie, Constance , not the first. You had no indication I was the priest.”
She backed away from him. “Leave here now and I will not throw you into my dungeon. If you do not, then face the consequences.”
“I will have you, make no mistake about that.” Kieran took a step in her direction. Sensual flames burned hotly in his eyes as if he would pounce on her here, in the chapel. “’Tis only a matter of time.”
“Wish as much as you want to, milord, but your dream will not come true. I will make sure of it.”
He shifted his stance. “’Tis no dream. It is a fact.”
“Leave now before I change my mind and throw you into my dungeon.”
Kieran shook his head as he closed the distance between with slow movements. “If you had changed your mind, I would be in your oubliette by now. Since I am not, then I will consider myself safe—for the moment.” He reached out and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “If you can look into my eyes and tell me with certainty your confession was a lie, then I will leave you and never return.”
Constance blinked hard and turned away. She could not face him now that he knew the truth. Aye, she did want him, perhaps more than any man she had ever known, yet the fact of their past held her back.
He chuckled as he turned her head back to face him. “I will be back, my beloved one, and this time I will have you as my bride.”
“Nay, you will not.”
He cupped her jaw in his hands, brushing his thumbs across her lips. She closed her eyes as her pussy clenched in excitement. “I want to give you something to remember me by.”
His lips touched hers, softly at first. Teasing, touching, flicking at the taut line of her mouth. At first she refused, but the rising tide of desire soon took over. Tingles of excitement burned through her breasts, turning the tips to marble.
Kieran’s tongue slipped through her open lips and explored every recess of her mouth as he had before except this time he enticed her tongue to play. Back and forth, each dueled for favor. Constance wound her arms around his neck and drew him closer, burying her hands in his hair. Dear God, what was she doing?