Brrr, I hope you’re staying warmer wherever you are than I am. What better way to spend a cold winter’s day than reading something a little spicy? How about meeting the author of something VERY spicy? Please welcome R. Brennan, author of the erotic horror novella, Blood & Fire
DISCLAIMER: Please not that this interview has some naughty words in it, so if you are offended by sexual content, then please turn back now.
Welcome, Ms. Brennan! Who is/was your childhood hero? It can be someone fictional or real.
I’m such a sap for saying this, but my pop (he wouldn’t let us call him Dad — would ignore you if you tried). I’m from a very blue collar family, and I can remember times when work got scarce for him (he was an Ironworker – retired now). Pop would pack his clothes, and a little black and white13” b/w TV into his beater of a car on Sunday night to drive the 3 hours to NYC because that is where the jobs were. We wouldn’t see him until the weekend. I’m the oldest of four, and Pop was at all of our ball games, coached teams, played catch in the yard — all of it. Yup, my hero is definitely my pops.
A girl after my own heart. Great answer. Speaking of answers, can you finish this sentence for us? If I couldn’t be an author, I’d be a ____________.
Well, I AM an IT Support Specialist as well as being an author, but that’s not what I would consider a “dream job”, so I’d have to go with pirate? Can I pick pirate? No? Hrmm…okay, then I’ll go with a singer. Though I will be brutally honest, I can’t carry a tune, so I’ll need someone to wave a magic wand or something first.
*snort* Nothing saying you can’t be a pirate. 🙂 And I always wanted to be a singer, too, with a voice like a hoarse frog. Ah, dreams. 🙂 What’s your favorite paragraph from Blood and Fire? No spoilers now, just a nice, slow tease if you please.
That’s an easy one:
My gaze dropped to his firm lips. The image of them locked over my pussy flashed in my mind. I caught my shocked squeak before it escaped my throat and swallowed it. “Uhm…thanks…uh, Sir.” And the part of the village idiot will be played by Miss Francesca Morgan. Fire blazed in my cheeks.
As far as why — this is SO something I would do. Meet the man of your dreams and end up well…playing the village idiot.
Whew. *zips out to dunk myself in the snow* Nice. There are a lot of stereotypes cast in a romance novelist’s direction, like they must sleep in slinky lingerie when most I’ve met are dressed from head to toe in flannel jammies when they hit the sack. Are you a warm and comfy girl? Or an in-the-buff or silk and satin kind of girl?
My preference is for a tank top and boxers for sleeping and lounging. Occasionally, some flannel jammie pants, but I do have a life partner I affectionately call my Bo-hunk, and he would skewer me if I wore those things to bed. His rule is pretty simple, though. No bottoms. 🙂
Hehe. I can’t stand jammies in bed. They’re for lounging, not…er…sleeping. *snort* Boy shorts, granny panties, thong, g-string or commando?
Okay, I shall share a secret which would probably cause my mother to faint should she ever find out, but I am a commando kinda girl. I’ve been in the D/s and BDSM lifestyles on and off for years, some of that time “servicing” a dominant partner. One of them had a no panties ever rule. We lived together about 6 years on and off, and once we parted ways, the habit had been formed. If I wear them now, I sorta feel like I’m in a diaper.
Ha! I so knew you were a commando girl. Let’s talk what ifs. If you met a yummy man who had a time machine, where would you ask him to take you, and when?
I am all about 17th century pirates, so I would have to say then. As far as where, I have to cote for someplace tropical and sunny. Being from Upstate NY and this being the middle of winter, I could use some rays, baby. Think I can find Jack Sparrow while I’m there?
Not if I find him first. >.< Nah, I’m more of an ancient Scotland, highland warrior kind of girl. How much of you is in your heroine?
In this novel, quite a bit. This is the first time I’ve written a “submissive” character, and more than the others in my stories, it took a bit more of my own experiences to create Frankie and make her come across as real and believable. Plus, she has my sarcasm.
The characters are always more powerful when they come from your own soul. If you could be a superhero, what would your power be and why?
Oh, I want to fly. Badly. Growing up, I would say 5 nights out of 7 my dreams involved me being able to fly like Superman. Though, I seem to have needed more of a running start if I remember correctly.
I’d be with you if it wasn’t for the whole heights issue. 🙂 Tell us one thing about you that your parents don’t know.
We have already established my parents don’t know about my non-panty ways. But, I don’t think they know I am a submissive either. Though, I do remember one time, when I had a fight with a BF, my dad coming over to make sure all was well and actually asking me — “Do you ever make a decision for yourself?” I wondered at the time if he had an inkling I prefer to take orders vs. giving them. I’ve since learned I’m really only submissive in the bedroom.
Sometimes parents see more than we want them to, or that we think them capable of, most often when we don’t want them to. 🙂 Best. Movie. Ever. As in, went to the theatre ten times to see it.
Breakfast Club. Hands down. I can quote that sucker word for word. Man, I miss John Hughes.
Oh, I loved that movie, too. I assume John Hughes is the bad boy? *fans self* Hawt! Thanks for hanging around with me today.
And now for the pretty!
Back of the book
College student, Francesca Morgan has finally met the Dominant man of her dreams. Kevin Stevenson is sexy, sure of himself, and knows just how to make her knees quake.
When he takes Frankie to her first fetish party, she is reminded being collared means her Master can do what he wishes with her, including offering her “services” for the evening to a sexy Dominant business associate he is trying to impress.
It doesn’t take long for Frankie to realize their host, Bartholomew Andrews is nothing like any Dom she has ever served. Aside from his devastating looks and heaping financial fortune, Bartholomew can read her thoughts, and knows just how to make her body react.
Can Frankie keep her wits about her and serve at his feet without falling for him, or will Master Amazing steal her heart and her soul in one steamy night of servitude?
Be warned — Contains elements of horror, BDSM, S&M, and a Dom/sub dynamic
We took a left at the end of the hall. Kevin stopped in front of an etched mahogany door. He released my hip, put his hand on the brass knob and faced me.
My stomach flip-flopped as his gaze dipped to my collar.
He smiled, and returned his eyes to mine, melting me into my boots. “Time to lose the protective layer.” He held out his hand, lifted a brow. “Coat, please.”
Oh, boy! Heat flushed my cheeks as I untied the belt with quivering fingers and shrugged out of the trench coat. Air rushed over my exposed flesh, raising goosebumps. Rubbing my arms, I looked to Master for approval.
Kevin tilted his head and folded his arms with the coat draped over his elbow.
His reaction sent my teeth in search of my lower lip while my gaze fell to the floor. What am I forgetting?
My toe dug at the tiles. Kevin’s words echoed in my skull–when we get to the party, you’ll be wearing nothing but those pretty boots and a smile. My eyes sought his, a smile of understanding curled my lips.
His foot tapped, the slight sound somehow drowning out the pounding music just beyond the door.
Focused on the expectant look in his dark eyes, my arms bent behind my back. I unfastened the bodice clasps. In a show of bravado, I tossed it aside. My nipples puckered at the sudden change in atmosphere, drawing Kevin’s gaze.
His grin widened. “Nice.”
Before I lost my nerve, I wriggled out of my drenched panties and added them to the satin garment on the floor. Standing upright, I looked to my Master. Shoulders back and chin high, I flashed my collar, pride blooming in my chest.
“That’s my little tigress.” Kevin reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a chain leash. He clipped one end to the o-ring on the collar, and gave it a yank that vibrated all the way down to my toes. Holding the other end of my leash over his shoulder, Kevin turned the knob and pushed open the heavy door.
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BIO: R. Brennan is a subbie brat with a bitch streak, a single parent, and a reformed gaming addict. She works FT as an IT geek for the state of NY and lives in the rolling hills of Upstate NY (you know, where it takes a ten minute drive to buy a gallon of milk and the scent of cows linger in the air). When not reading or writing steamy stories, she enjoys spending time outdoors or travelling with her family.
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