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1 1. I live in
a city - Vancouver - but I often set stories in small towns for the sense of
community which echoes what I find in my downtown neighborhood. What about you?
Where do you live and where do you set your stories? And why?
Guess what? I grew up in
Vancouver! It’s the most wonderful city in the world. Yes, I’m prejudiced, and
I miss the mountains and ocean every day. However, so far I haven’t been
tempted to set a story there. Now I live near Atlanta, and I’ve never set a
story here, either. Instead, I set my stories elsewhere –- such as the
imaginary town of Bayou Gavotte, Louisiana, where my paranormals take place, or
Regency England for my historical romances. I think this may be because places
I know too well don’t allow my imagination to work -- they are way too real to
me. I need some distance from reality so I can make things up. :)
2. What's your favorite book ever and why? I have 2 or 3 books
that I read over and over again - including Jane Austen's Persuasion. I love it
because the characters are older and their relationship isn't easy, but you
know, when they do finally get together, they're grown-ups and they know
exactly who they are.
There are way, way too
many of them. For example, there are at least ten romances by Georgette Heyer
that I would call my favorites. I’ve read them all over and over. Same goes for
the children’s stories by Arthur Ransome and the mysteries by Dorothy Sayers…
and those are only a few of my best-loved authors. More recent authors whose
books I love are Loretta Chase and Joanna Bourne (romances) and Lindsey Davis
(mysteries).
2. What's
the story you've always wanted to write but somehow can't? For me, it's a story
about World War I. I'm fascinated by the stories I've read about it but I'm
pretty sure I'm never going to write a real war story. I've just finished a
book that is set partly during World War I but a very long way away from the
battles. I think that's as close as I'm going to get.
I understand your
fascination with World War I. I devoured the WWI trilogy by Pat Barker, but I
don’t think I could write about that era. It’s just too close and painful. As
for what I’d like to write but haven’t… well, I’d love to write historical
novels about Anglo-Saxon England and Ancient Rome, but that would involve a lot
of research, and research takes a great deal of time. I don’t know if I will
ever manage to write them, but it’s fun thinking about those stories all the
same.
4. Finally, do you
have a routine? If so, what is it and how easy/hard is it to stick to it?
I try to have one, but because I work as a freelance paralegal and teach
paralegals occasionally, my schedule tends to change from week to week, if not actually
day to day. I'm always buying lottery tickets, hoping to win just enough money
not to have to work and write to a regular schedule though I'm pretty sure that
even if I did have the money to write nine to five, I wouldn't, as I've been
scrambling like this forever :)
No routine. If I wake up
early enough, I try to delve right into my writing. Otherwise, the day just
seems to slip by with other work, chores, etc. I’m pretty useless in the
evening, so poof! The day is gone, just like that. I try to catch up during the
weekend. (Big sigh.)
My
latest release is a Regency Christmas novella, A Lady’s Lesson in Seduction. It
will be out on October 1st.
Blurb:
Once a notorious rake, Camden Folk, Marquis of
Warbury, is now consumed by desire for only one woman: beautiful young widow
Frances Burdett. The Yuletide festivities at his country estate present the
perfect opportunity for seduction…
After her brief, unsatisfying marriage, Frances
swore never to become tied to another man. Then a passionate kiss under the
mistletoe reawakens longings she thought buried forever. Can she give in to the
pleasures of the body with a rogue like Cam—without losing her heart?
Excerpt:
Frances should never have
agreed to go to the orchard with the Marquis of Warbury—to gather mistletoe, of
all things. She sent him a fierce, furious glare. “If you must have it, I don’t
enjoy kissing.”
He eyed her from behind the
apple tree. “Not at all?”
“No.” She pressed her lips
together.
“Come now,” he teased. “Surely
you’re exaggerating.”
Her voice was low, suffused
with passion. “You can’t possibly judge how that—that invasion made me feel.”
“That bad, was it?” The marquis
reached up and snipped with his shears. “You’re right, I can’t judge, but the
general popularity of kissing tells me you were merely unlucky.” He came around
the tree, a sprig of mistletoe in his hand.
What a fool she was; in spite
of bitter experience, she wanted to kiss him, wanted kissing to be
wonderful. How stupid! She was much better off—much safer—as she was.
He kissed the fingertips of his
gloves and blew. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Frances huffed.
He picked a berry from the
mistletoe and dropped it. “We’ll make it a very light kiss,” he said, coming
closer. “Short and sweet.”
She didn’t trust him; she
wanted yet didn’t want—
A flurry of snow tumbled from
the branches above, distracting her. He swooped in, dropped a swift, cold kiss
on her lips, and drew away—but not far. “Was that too unbearable?” Another
mistletoe berry fell to the snow.
“No, of course not,” she said,
“but—”
“Well, then.” He took her hand
and pulled her behind the tree. “If you don’t want me to invade
you—accidentally, needless to say—you’ll have to keep your mouth shut.”
“You mustn’t do this—”
“Of course I must. No talking.”
She gave up, shutting both her
mouth and her eyes. It was her own fault for coming to the orchard this
morning, but she’d enjoyed their time together in the middle of the night so
very much. It was only a kiss.
Nothing happened. She opened
her eyes again. He was contemplating her mouth from under his lashes. “You have
lovely lips.”
Through her teeth, she said,
“Get it over with.”
“I’ve never kissed a martyr
before.” His lips curled in a lazy smile, and then he pressed his mouth coolly
to hers and withdrew again. “It requires a more careful approach than we
disgustingly hasty men are used to.” He flicked another berry off the sprig.
She couldn’t help but watch his
mouth. What was he going to do, and when?
“Close your eyes, and whatever
happens, keep your lips together.”
This time his mouth lingered on
hers a few seconds, then pressed light kisses from one corner of her lips to
the other. Kiss. “One.” Kiss. “Two.” Kiss. “Three.”
Bite.
***
My website: www.BarbaraMonajem.com
Twitter: @BarbaraMonajem
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/barbara.monajem
Buy links:
Amazon.com:
Barnes & Noble:
Harlequin.com
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