Friday, October 18, 2019

Blog Tour Spotlight/GIVEAWAY- Queenie Black's Hard-Pressed



http://writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/queenie-black-2/

Interview with Queenie Black Author of Hard-Pressed @queenieblackwr1 #authorinterview #giveaway

Q: A little bird tells me that you’re not English. Is that true?
A: Well, yes. My passport tells me I’m Greek.

Q: How come you didn’t make Lucien from Hard-Pressed Greek? Why did you choose to make him partially French?
A: I have to admit that I asked myself the same question quite a few times while I was writing Hard-Pressed. Especially when I was struggling with the language, which I don’t speak at all. To be honest though, it’s all about what I thought Rose would find sexy. So, he had to be French. Also, that accent…is there anything sexier?

Q: I take your point. Now the question that everyone always wants to ask when they find out you write -
A: Oh, noooo. Not that one please.
Q: -where do you get your inspiration?
A: Phew, I thought for a minute there that you were going to ask me if I live what I write, you know the old nod-nod-wink-wink, do you do what’s in your books? curiosity thing. When it comes to inspiration it mostly boils down to ‘what if?’ questions. What if a woman called Rose Dainty was anything but dainty? What if she was very strong and tall and frightened men away? Who could be strong enough to give her what she needs? And so, a story is born.

Q: You make it sound so easy.
A: I’m never short on inspiration. It’s discipline I lack unfortunately. Particularly when it comes to rewriting, editing and polishing.

Q: What do you like to snack on while you write?
A: Hmm, I love chocolatey stuff. Chocolate bars especially but I try and swap those out with things like raspberries. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, it depends on how well the rewrites are going.

Q: What about music? Do you listen to music while you write?
A: Music tends to make me cry so I prefer to have the television on with old favourites like Columbo, Midsomer Murders, Poirot etc. They make a noise but don’t engage me because I know how they all end.

Q: A bit unusual for sure. Are you a cat or a dog person?
A: Both but at the moment we have a cat called Millie. She catches mice and brings them into the house for me. I usually end up hopping around and screaming. It’s the only aerobic exercise I get!

Q: Before you go what’s next in your writing life?
A: I’ve just finished Hard-Pressed and I’ve started writing Cal’s story. Cal is an Earl and Lucien’s half-brother and business partner in Club Hard. He is going to meet his match in a short, bubbly tree surgeon who has a thing for being tied up. Watch ths space.

Thank you Queenie, happy writing!


Contemporary Erotic Romance BDSM
Evernight Publishing


Blurb:
Master Lucien has one night at Club Hard.
One night…to show bodyguard Rose Dainty that he can be the Dom she needs,
One night…to show her that submitting to him doesn’t make her weak, that true submission requires strength and trust.
Will pushing Rose to her limits prove to her she can trust him with her body and heart, and can she let go of her deepest fears long enough to enjoy her surrender? `
They both have everything to prove and everything to lose.

Buy links:
Amazon USA: https://amzn.to/2lXpCSP    

Excerpt:
I mounted the six shallow steps and faced the double front doors. Twin carriage lights cast a soft gleam over the brass plaque with its discrete lettering:

Club Hard

Private Members Only

I desperately wanted to run back down the steps, leap into my car, and drive home, but if I did, nothing would change, and I’d go back to dividing my time between working out, Candy Crush Saga, and the occasional night out with my friends. I might miss out on learning something about myself, something that could make a difference in my sex life. Worse, I might miss a chance at love.

I stayed, my feet rooted to the floor, but the insides of my hands were so damp, my finger slipped on the brass bell, setting off a short, discordant jangling. I winced as I rang it again properly this time. That certainly wouldn’t endear me to anyone.

Shifting from foot to foot, trying to keep the blood circulating in my toes, I looked around. Behind me, the gravel drive snaked away to a discreet carpark, and trees and shrubs created shadows within shadows. Autumn had finally reached London and in this exclusive part of it, crisp, clean air and earthy leaf mulch replaced the smell of fast food and exhaust.

I shifted again, starting to get irritated. If you were going to demand a woman wear nothing but a skirt that barely covered her butt, and a top that was little more than a bit of elastic bandage—on me it was ridiculous, if I sneezed, I’d pop out over the top—then you should damn well open the door promptly. Now, despite wearing my warmest coat over the absurd ensemble, there was a distinct draught zipping under my hem and freezing my exposed butt cheeks.

I lifted my finger to stab the bell again, and the door swung open.

Bloody hell. A real butler. I was no stranger to mansions with staff. Working as a bodyguard meant I saw the inside of a lot of wealthy homes, but so far, a liveried butler was a new one to me.

“Can I help you?”

I cleared my throat, wondering if there was any etiquette for addressing a butler, aware that my finger was still lurking in the vicinity of his eye. “Umm, I’m, ah, it’s Ms. Dainty. To see Mr. Dufort. I’m expected.”

He waved me through into a large marble-floored hall with a fire burning at one side. A wide, elegant staircase at the back curved away to the upper floors.

“I’ll inform Mr. Dufort that you’re here, if you’d like to take a seat.” He indicated a collection of sofas and easy chairs huddled as if for warmth around the fireplace. I made a beeline for the heat.

“May I take your coat?”

I crossed my arms tightly. No way was I exposing my scantily clad self. “Ah, thanks, but I’m a bit cold.”

“I see my guest has arrived, Henry.”

I turned away from the fire to see Lucien Dufort crossing the hall toward me. The floor seemed to drop a few inches and I had to grab the back of a chair to steady myself as his delicious, rich chocolate voice with its faint French accent wound around me, setting my heart hammering.

A tall, elegant man, he moved toward me with predatory intent, covering the floor in loose, confident strides, but it was his eyes that held my gaze, dark eyes, sharp with intelligence and power. He wasn’t a handsome man. His narrow-bladed Gallic nose, inherited from his mother, was slightly overlarge for that, but his lips were sensual, and the mix of tenderness and lust in his expression as he looked at me sent electric tingles charging down my spine.

“Rose, welcome to Club Hard.” He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, his tongue flickering into the little hollow between my two smallest fingers, mimicking the act of sex. Normally, that would be an instant turn-off, but when Lucien did it, everything inside me melted. I tugged my hand free and shoved it into my coat pocket. This was bad. We hadn’t even started yet and my hormones were doing a happy dance.

“Your coat, ma petite.”

I undid the buttons reluctantly and he stripped it off my shoulders, giving it to Henry before indicating my feet. “Barefoot, please.”

I obeyed, steadying myself with one hand on Lucien’s forearm. I could have rested it there all day, enjoying the feel of thick bone and the flex of hard muscles, but I quickly unzipped my boots and gave them to Henry, who took them as solemnly as if I was handing him the crown jewels for safekeeping. He disappeared, taking my things with him, and I stood shivering, waiting for Lucien to say or do something. I shouldn’t have felt vulnerable. I fought with this amount of flesh on display, so it shouldn’t have bothered me, yet insecurity and apprehension crept hand-in-hand up my spine. “Lucien?”

He cupped my chin, his palm warm and sure, his thumb stroking my cheekbone in a gesture I found calming. “Tonight, you will address me as Monsieur, or Sir.” His words sank deep inside me, reaching a place I wasn’t aware existed. A place I didn’t want to believe existed. I stepped back, dislodging his hand.

Lucien’s cheek creased in amusement. “So, ma belle perle, the challenge begins. Are you ready?”


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Author bio: 
I’ve always loved writing and I won my first prize for a short story when I was still at primary school. I’m an avid reader of romance and erotic romance and can usually be found with my nose in a book. The dynamics and sheer variety of human relationships fascinate me, and this is what I like to explore in my writing. I live in North Yorkshire with my husband and cat where I enjoy running and Tai Chi.
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