Epically Romantic would like to welcome Author London Saint James to Epically Romantic by Ebony Dreams. The author will be telling a bit about herself as well as giving a way a copy of her book Enchanted. All you readers have to do is to follow my blog, follow her blog and comment here with your name and email address. Here is a bit about London!
London wrote her first short story in the second grade. Her teacher informed her parents London had a big imagination, but having a big imagination wasn’t necessarily a good thing as far as he was concerned. Without watering that seed of imagination, London placed her vivid characters, her childhood stories, along with her imagination on the shelf, where they would wither for a while. At the urging of her eighth grade English teacher, London pulled her imagination off that shelf and wrote her second short story. To no surprise, it was a love story which was inspired by a song. With encouragement, London began to write once again. She fell head over heels in love with writing, the power of words and the journey we all take when we read a great story. Then as life does it moves on, so yet again London placed her imagination on the shelf to wither for a while. She needed to do the “sensible thing.”
In doing the sensible thing London earned a degree in Psychology. While in college she traversed into writing once more, was encouraged by a couple of professors to peruse that endeavor and wrote. In doing so, she lit that spark of imagination which she thought was long dead.
London writes erotic romance, from sweet to downright naughty. She is an author for Evernight Publishing and a member of the Romance Writers of America as well as a member of Passionate Ink.
Blurb from Enchanted:Can love withstand the test of time?
Winter never truly understood love, nor did she have time for men until she met Austin Wells Carlyle. He was the man who would rock her world to its foundations. He would test her notions, give her something to believe in, and change her misguided thoughts regarding happily ever after. Strangely, she was going to allow him be the one thing she never believed in—her soul mate.
He took me into his arms. We danced to the sounds of the waves breaking on the shore, underneath the stars. The breeze madewhooshing sounds through the reeds and tall spiky grass up on shore. In the distance, the intermittent light flashed from the lighthouse which was perched upon a bluff. It was the perfect backdrop, too beautiful, too tranquil. This was the kind of place made up of dreams; no one should be nervous in this setting. To be here in this picture perfect place with a drop dead gorgeous man, the man I loved after all, was everything a girl could want. I needed to get a grip and stop being so totally silly, so jittery.
It was about time to internally scold myself when Austin’s hand brushed up against the small of my back. I delighted in the feel of his hand as he made small movements against my bare skin beneath my shirt. He leaned in and caressed the base of my neck with his lips.
Against the hollow of my throat, I experienced his words. “Winter, I love you.”
“I love you,” I said, breathless.
With each dance, Austin seemed to pull me closer into his body. With each dance, I wanted him more and more. The anxiety and nervousness I had experienced earlier was now gone as if it had never even existed. The slow simmering of desire had turned into a full-blown boiling beneath my skin. I wondered if he was feeling the same. I thought he was.
Austin kissed my lips softly. My body began to tremble. He looked at me with those all too tempting eyes. “Winter.” He whispered in my ear with his silk ridden voice. “Would you like to go back to the cottage with me?”
I whispered, “Yes.”
He pulled back. He was gazing deeply into my eyes. His fingertip ran over the lines of my lips. He sighed contently then took my hand. We walked without words back up the beach, finally reaching the cottage. The others were gone from the terrace, off getting into their own sort of trouble I guessed. Austin paused. We dropped our shoes at the back door. He gazed at me with the softest expression then kissed my lips softly before entering into the cottage.
We went up the stairs slowly, down the hall then stood in front of the door to our room. The pause seemed like a lifetime. I studied the wood-grains in the door, wondering if we were ever going to go inside. Then Austin glanced over at me with a heat which could only be described as mind-blowing. He opened the door, scooped me up into his arms and carried me inside, closing the door behind him with his foot.
My eyes flitted around the room. It was filled with dozens of white, pink, and red roses. The light of the room was only candlelight. Music played softly like a lullaby in the background.
He has been busy. This is good. This is very good.
“Don’t be mad,” he said as he put me down.
Has he lost his mind?
“Why would I be mad?”
“Well, I was hoping.” He paused. “I want us to be closer. I want to make love to you so bad it hurts. But if you are not ready than please do not feel like this.” He gestured toward the room and the four-poster bed. “Do not feel like I am pressuring you. I love you. You are more important to me than anything so I can wait.”
I never said a word. Every insecurity I ever had was vacant from me. I was going to allow my body to do all the talking tonight. I moved with assurance toward him. He watched me. I wrapped my arms around Austin’s neck. I stood on my tiptoes in order to press my lips to the hollow beneath his ear. I closed my eyes, took a breath, and wanted to dissolve.
He smells so good.
“Winter,” he whispered softly.
“Shh.” I opened my eyes to see him. “You told me once you would not look until I wanted you to, do you remember that?”
“Well….” I dropped my hands from his neck. “I want you to look.”
His returning smile took my breath. I had to look away from his eyes, which was almost impossible. I glanced at my hands. They should have been shaking, but they were not. My hands found Austin’s shirt. I unbuttoned each button slowly foregoing the urge to hurry. With a tremulous breath, I ran my hand down his skin, exposing the perfect alabaster of his muscular chest. His shirt was off and on the floor. He’s so beautiful, I thought.
My lips found his chest and liked the feeling of his flesh beneath them. My fingers outlined the angles and planes of his strong rippled stomach, moving slowly around his tight waist. I watched his skin, his reaction to my touch. The muscles beneath my touch seemed to jump, flex, relax. I could not believe this beautiful man was here with me. If I could, I would look at him; worship Austin’s perfection for the rest of my life. My eyes were filled with more beauty in this moment than ever before.
I allowed my hands to find and trace the outline of his wide shoulders, follow the contour of his muscular back. My body moved around him while my eyes, hungry, followed my fingers which were lost to the canvas of his flawless skin. Touching him was like finding a secret. I pressed my lips to his shoulder blade. He groaned. I burned. My teeth grazed the surface of his skin. My tongue followed the line of him while my hands ran freely over the surface of his biceps, his forearms.
I had to wonder in awe. A part of my mind told me such beauty should be a dream, because no one could be this fabulous. But touching him grounded me in reality. I had never seen anything so magnificent, so beautiful. It was in this moment I knew. I knew in the whole of my life I would never want anyone but Austin Carlyle. I would indeed love him, forever.
Now on to the interview!
Ebony: When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?
London: I’m not sure it was a realization as much as it was I just scribbled down stories all the time. I would think of a long drawn out scenario in my head and scribble it out on paper. I think even before I could really write, I would talk out stories when playing. I had a whole make-believe world going on when I was young. I guess I always wanted to write, however I was not encouraged to do so until one of my English teachers in junior high school encouraged me to do so.
E: How long does it take you to write a book?
L: I can, when I have quiet time, kick out some words. One book, which I have not submitted for publication yet, took me only a couple of weekends to write. Some books seem to take on a life of their own and flow right out onto the page. My best answer to this question is, it depends on time restraints and how well thought out my idea is.
E: What is your work schedule like when you're writing?
L: Willy-nilly! LOL…When I write I lose track of time, place, you name it. I suppose it is best described as getting lost within the story. I seem to write at odd time schedules like late night or early morning or even write all night. I do try to write on my weekends (if free). If I have a day off, I write.
E: What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
L: I read my story back to myself out loud. I need to hear it, besides reading it. I have to “hear” if it is working.
E: Do you have any suggestions to help me become a better writer? If so, what are they?
L: Read everything you can get your hands on and keep on writing. I think you will find as you read and write your work will continually get better. Write what you love, have a passion for and don’t compromise your passion. Never let people discourage you from your dream. Never give up on your dream. Remember you may sometimes hit that wall of rejection, but find a way around the wall. And if you can get around it, go over it or through it. A writer friend of mine said to me once, “I can’t get past the wall.” My comment was, “Go through the damn wall, bust it down if you have to.” Some of the greatest authors around have been rejected, told their work sucked and later they were published with great success.
E: Do you hear from your readers much? What kinds of things do they say?
L: I have actually. I have received emails from readers, even more so than I would have thought. They usually tell me what they liked about a particular story or a particular character, and give advice on what they would want to see happen next.
E: Are you anything like your heroines or heroes?
L: I think as a writer you do put parts and pieces of yourself into your characters. I can’t say I am “like” a specific heroine, but I do have pieces of myself within them.
E: Where can readers find you (What websites, emails etc)?
L: My website is www.londonsaintjames.com
My blog is http://londonsj.blogspot.com
People can email me at London@londonsaintjames.com
I can also be found on Facebook, Twitter, and MySpace at:
Facebook Authors Page:
E: Favorite dessert?
L: Anything with chocolate! If it has chocolate, I’m so happy.
E: What TV shows do you watch?
L: I’m a huge True Blood fan. (Love me some Eric). Also, I must watch Ghost Hunters. I would love to hang out with Jason and Grant! Other than trying to keep up with watching them, I don’t really have a lot of time to watch a lot of different shows.
Thank you London Saint James for the wonderful interview. I do hope to have you back again sometime.