Wednesday 11 May 2016

Guest Post: Sierra Cartwright - You Write WHAT?

AUTHOR: Sierra Cartwright
PUBLISHER: Totally Bound Publishing


Amazon - Goodreads

Only one man can help her. Is she willing to pay his price?

Faced with the potentially overwhelming loss of her family's fortune, Lara Bertrand turns to the one man who can help her, the gorgeous and powerful Connor Donovan.

She knows he's dangerous to her on every level. Only desperation would drive her to make such a risky proposition. After all, she knows all about his ruthless nature and relentless determination to succeed.

When the classy, elegant Lara walks into his office with an outrageous proposal, Connor is stunned and more than a little intrigued. Ever since he first met her, he's been attracted to the cool beauty, but she's more than kept her distance.

Connor is absolutely willing to help her out. For a price. He not only wants her hand in marriage, but also her total submissive surrender...

So happy to be here! :) Thanks for having me!

You Write WHAT?
by Sierra Cartwright

Yes. I write that. The naughty stuff.

Even my very first published books were considered scandalous by some, intriguing by others. And the reactions I’ve had when I confess what I do have been hysterical.

Yes, even my gynecologist, mother, father, kids, hair dresser, and preacher know what I write. I’ll admit, some of them pretend they don’t know. My father? I think he wants cauliflower to stuff in his ears when I start talking about my plots.

When I first published with Harlequin/Silhouette books, I wrote for the Desire line. Judged next to the Donovan series that I’ve just finished writing, I’d consider my stories for Desire to be ultra-tame. But I had a neighbor ask to read one of my books. Her name was Joan, and she was ages past retirement. I rarely saw her or her husband leave the house. They seemed to have no social life beyond shag carpet and television. I was scared of what might happen if I gave her a book. If she had a heart attack, would I be held liable? Could I look at her husband at the funeral and not feel guilty? Would I go to hell for killing her?

Joan was nothing if not persistent. The first time she knocked on my door, I told her I had no copies. The second time, I said I’d sold out at my last autographing. Finally, I had to confess the truth. It was a VNB. Very Naughty Book. I feared for her wellbeing if I gave her a copy. My feelings wouldn’t be hurt if she had changed her mind.

She asked for an autograph. I relented, but I held onto the book as I delivered a stern warning. It wasn’t for the faint of heart. It was naughty. There were scenes that might shock her. I’ll have you know she snatched the book from my grip. I stood there, mouth agape as she took the paperback and tucked it under her arm, turned her back and stalked off.

Until that moment, I hadn’t known Joan could stalk. I hadn’t seen her with a walker, I admit. But I’d never seen her move with such a purposeful stride.

“I hope you like it! And don’t tell me if you don’t,” I called after her.

She never responded.

A few days later there was a very precise, commanding knock on my door. When I answered it, Joan was standing on my porch. I told my kids to go watch television. When they’d reluctantly returned to an endless viewing of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (a favorite, I have no idea why), I faced Joan.

“I read your book.”

I gulped. I was shaking. I took a breath to prepare myself. Would she release the hounds of hell on me? (To be fair, the biggest hound in the neighborhood was Buddy, and he was my dog.) “And…?”

“Been there. Done that. I thought it was supposed to be interesting.” With a disappointed harrumph, she strode back across the street.

Agog, I watched her until the time she closed her door. It was painted green. I’ll never forget that.

The next request for a free book came from my staid accountant. He wanted it as a gift for his wife. I went through my usual warnings. It’s spicy. It’s not to everyone’s taste. She might not like it.

He yanked the paperback from my cold grip.

A week later, when he called to tell me how much I owed in taxes—the bastard—he told me his wife had read the book.

I winced. Closed my eyes. Waited. Prepared myself. Told myself to breathe in. Breathe out.

“Had the best sex of my life.”

“Uhm, what?” Now I was the one in the “you’ve shared too damn much information” realm.

Then I started writing erotic romance.

All of a sudden, I was able to say, “Oh my God!” in a love scene. And I no longer had to use euphemisms for body parts. I had liberated myself of “throbbing manhoods” and, “his silken steel” entering her “awaiting parts.”

My sister bought a paperback copy of With This Collar. I was nervous, but this was my sister. I can deal with my little sis reading my stuff, right? Until the moment she said, “Mom saw your book.”

What? Hide it! Now. No. Burn it. Burn it. Throw it away. Something. Anything.”

The next day, she sent me a text as she was obviously too much of a coward to call. “Mom took the book while I wasn’t watching.”

“WHAT?” If she had burned it, Mom couldn’t have taken it.

Oh my God. Mom had my book. If she had buried it or burned it, that would have never happened. My life was over.

And I wanted to bury myself when my mother called me to say, “Nothing I haven’t done.”

“Oh, my God. No. With my dad? No. Wait. On second thought, do not tell me. Not ever. Not ever.”

My gynecologist didn’t ask for an autographed copy. But she did take detailed notes on my health. Very detailed.

And then my minister… During my wedding ceremony, he said (in front of God and the world, including three generations of attendees), “Who brought the handcuffs?”

What have I learned from all this? That people aren’t as shockable as I thought they were. That people resonate with a good story. That women love sex and alpha heroes. That we all have fantasies. And that love is a universal language.

Anyone in the mood for a very naughty book? I’ve got a deliciously dominant man in Bind who is approached by the daughter of a business rival with an unusual proposal. Desperate to save her family’s business, Lara wants Connor Donovan to marry her. Connor, a hero through and through, is willing to help her. For a price. In exchange for a wedding ring, he demands her total submissive surrender.

Yeah. I write that. The naughty stuff. The very naughty stuff. Approach the Donovan Dynasty only if you want to have your toes curled. And maybe the best sex of your life.

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