I gotta tell ya, I'm so pleased with the cover art designed by Fiona Jayde. She caught the essence of the characters beautifully. Of course, the content of a book is why we read, but a great cover can take a good book even higher. I hope my readers agree! I admit that I'm often guilty of choosing books by their covers, before I check out the text. (Unless I'm hunting new titles by a favorite author, then I just go with it.)
It seems that a recurring question pops up in conversation lately: What makes writers write? What pushes them? What motivates them? Why do they do it?
There are a plethora of reasons that might prompt a person to write. With this in mind, I carefully considered my own reasons.
First and foremost, I write because characters, plots, and stories pinball around in my brain, invade my dreams, pop out at the most inopportune times -- therefore, they must be written to assuage the spirits, calm the muse.
Second, I love to share my visions with others, in the hope that my stories help get them through the day (or night). Escapism? You betcha! Guilty as charged.
Third, I love waiting for my book covers to appear, like magic, in my inbox. It's like having the bestest ever Christmas, every time that happens.
The last reason is a bit more materialistic. While fame and fortune are fantastic goals for which to strive, I'd be happy with a nice enough income to hire a housekeeper. Not a live-in housekeeper -- nothing so dramatic -- just a nice, dependable gal (or guy, I'm not sexist) who knows how to put a house in some semblence of order, who doesn't mind the dogs, and who is tough enough to wrastle killer dustbunnies and win the match. That's not too much to ask, is it? No, I didn't think so.
So, remember my housekeeper fund, and prepare to be titillated!
Enjoy another teaser from ABOVE THE LAW:
"Joe, aren't you going to help?" Abigail's voice sounded low and breathy, incredibly sexy.
"Help? How?" Oh shit, how lame did that sound? I need to leave. That's what I'll do. I'll make my excuses and leave, then tomorrow I'll blame the whole shitstorm on the tequila.
As if she could read his mind, Abigail crooked her finger at him, forestalling his flight. "Lift me onto Glennon's cock."
"Ahh, oh, I don't know if . . . ."
"You can lift me, right?"
"Well, then, help me out."
* * * * *
Danica St. Como
Seduction ~ Sex ~ Suspense