Hello, Allyson! Thank you so
much for visiting Written Butterfly with me today!
It’s great to be back and I hope to be a
regular visitor. (Which means getting down to business!)
Q) How did you dream up the dynamics of your characters?
Often
I wake up in the morning and the story idea is there. It always starts with the
heroine and what she needs or has experienced. And off I go. Pantser supreme.
Q) Do you have any habits that get you in the writing frame
of mind?
I require peace and quiet, a comfy chair and a big cup of coffee laced
with low fat vanilla creamer. My sweet little laptop died Christmas Day and
this new one isn’t my best friend, so I also need to remember to breathe and
hold my temper.
Q) What are your upcoming projects?
I continue to work on my science fiction
Vanquished, but my muse either has an evil twin or she likes to mess with my
head. Regardless, it will get done, if not the way I envisioned it! But like
brownies, sometimes there are happy accidents. So fingers crossed for me,
because I love my heroine!
Margaret Madeline O’Sullivan aka Maddy Powell, is on the run from two really bad guys. In hiding, she ventures out only to a Vantage, a BDSM club, living a lonely, isolated life during the day while exploring her submissive tendencies at night.
Rafe Mason and Connor Gillespie are
accomplished Doms, ex-military men who are on the lookout for a submissive who
will live with them in a permanent ménage. They set their sights on Maddy, and
she finds herself fleeing two really good guys, because while she is incredibly
drawn to Rafe and Connor, she will not risk bringing the kind of danger down
upon them that she knows is stalking her.
The Doms persist and Maddy resists, until
they kidnap her and coax out the truth. Can Rafe and Connor keep her safe? Or
will she be the death of them?
EXCERPT
Her scream echoing within the confines of the bedroom, Maddy Powell
scrabbled amongst the linens, yanking them aside until she could reach the
gauzy fabric of the nightgown covering her belly. Now fully awake she pressed
her hand against the thin length of raised tissue throbbing with the prickling
phantom pain that had catapulted her out of a fitful sleep. No telltale wetness
or shards of agony resulted from her tender touch, and she fell back against
the pillow, limp with vast relief. Just a flashback of being slashed, then. Not
real. Slowing her breathing with every exhale, she rolled her head to check the
clock. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep so she clambered off
the mattress and headed for the bathroom to shower.
The steaming water rinsed off her favorite soap in bubbly rivulets
that coursed over her bountiful curves, but the warmth didn’t prevent a shudder
as details contained in the flashback coalesced—Ryker’s evil, curiously
handsome features twisted with rage, the slash along the side of his face a
seeping crimson streak that soured her stomach and made her falter…and the
tables turned. With a gasp she reached to wrench the tap to cold for an
instant, and the resulting deluge shocked her mind into neutral, erasing all
the images.
Resting her forehead against the tiles, she focused on the night
ahead. Club Vantage didn’t really get started until midnight on the weekends,
and while she could have used some additional rest, the familiar curls of
excitement soon overlaid the crash of adrenaline, building to warm her insides
and pool between her legs. Time to choose an outfit and escape her past, even
for a few hours. Maybe the Masters who occupied most of her waking thoughts
would be there, and she could indulge in the fantasy that they were more to her
than one scene. It was a dangerous fantasy, because she suspected they were
indulging in the same wishful thinking, and that would never do. But a girl
could always dream. Even a girl like her.
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