Welcome Allyson Young!

Today we’re presenting Author: Allyson Young

1) Have you always wanted to be an author? I don’t know that I’ve always wanted to be an author. I’ve always been a storyteller. I could never just get to the point. I had to tell the story leading up to the event, the event itself and what happened afterwards! I probably made some people insane but never noticed anyone’s eyes glazing over. Except for my husband’s, lol. I’ve written all my life, from short stories as a kid to poems in high school. I wrote one poem in high school that caused the guidance counsellor to call my mom in for a “chat.” Apparently nice young ladies shouldn’t know that kind of stuff. I didn’t know it first hand, but I read a lot, so it was my mom’s fault! She let me read whatever I wanted.

2) What genre(s) do you write? I write contemporary dark erotic romance, no apologies. Love rarely comes easy-it takes hard work to maintain any relationship in my opinion. And I like a little kink. Or a lot. I don’t write humiliation or degradation. My heroines may have their hearts broken and repaired, but ultimately they have the power. The heroes eventually figure it out.

3)  Have you ever self published? Not yet. I’m moving in that direction though, because I might not find a publisher for a novel I’m working on.

4) Who or what inspired you to write your first book? I read an erotic romance, quite by accident. Truly. I just bought an ereader and was scrolling through the options to buy when I saw a free download. And I devoured it. Holy smokes. I knew I could write one too and I did. I dithered over submitting it though. I don’t have that kind of self confidence. I broke a cardinal rule-don’t submit to more than one publisher at a time. Didn’t know the rule. I got an acceptance from two and went with the first one to be honourable. And I’ve written 15 more since. I write because I love it. The money is secondary.

5) How many hours in a day might you write? As many as I can squeeze out. Sometimes I write five or six hours, sometimes eight, around my part time job and life. The days I manage only an hour are sad days.  But I do take weekends off. Discipline.

6) Are you a plotter or a pantster? I wake up with an idea or I’m driving and one pops into my head. Or I hear someone say something or observe someone or something and I’m off. I’m a pantster, big time.

7) Do you ever find yourself slipping away and becoming so immersed in your  story it affects how you relate to others? I absolutely do. My husband will say, “One of those characters pissed you off again, right?” Right. And it’s almost always the hero. Sometimes I weep, literally, when I writing a scene of heartbreak and angst.

8) Are you in any of your books? Nope. Although I’d like to practice more of the erotic scenes in private!

9) What do your friends and family have to say about you writing? My family are fine with it as long as I can tear myself away to engage with them, understandably. They see how much I love to write and are supportive.  

10) Please share an excerpt from one of your books that totally spoke to you when you put the words down on paper.

From: The Decision

I want to fuck you. Boy, sweet nothings in a woman’s ear. Not. That was absolutely not happening. A replay of her astonished and infuriated emotional reaction didn’t allow Stephanie to completely ignore the way her sex again drew up between her legs and dampened in response to remembering the blatant statement. It was also hard to ignore the way her breasts tingled, the tips tightening and shrinking into taut little nubs, when she remembered how Dace had kissed her, taken her breath and very nearly her resolve. I want to fuck you. Just like that. Near hysterical laughter bubbled over her lips and she clapped both hands on her mouth to muffle the sound. Wondering how many women Dace Reynolds said that to, and how many found a horizontal surface right pronto? Not that he’d need such a surface, Stephanie speculated. He was big and strong and could probably do it against a wall or on the edge of a desk and—what the hell was she thinking? The asshole had propositioned her. Actually, he’d announced his decision and expected her to accommodate him, period.        

“Good evening, Ms. Price.” It was unlikely his voice would escape her notice. Stephanie would know it anywhere. She was so screwed.

“Let go of my arm.” Her voice trembled a trifle, but not from pain. However, she was instantly released.

“I apologize. I hurt you last night.”

Was this the same arrogant piece of work? Stephanie spun to face him and wobbled. Dace’s eyes zeroed in as his hands shot out to gently catch her shoulders. Too close. She tried to ignore the sensual affect he had on her, conveniently blaming it on the alcohol. But waves of lust rolled up her body, starting right at the tip of her toes, and fever flushed her body. She shuddered against them.

“Have you been drinking?” Dace’s voice sounded equally amused and sceptical.

Stephanie straightened to her full height and gave her head the most imperial shake she could manage. Her world spun and she’d have staggered back without his hold. Dace’s body heat seemed above average and she wanted to curl into him, fortunately getting a grip on her ridiculous urge before acting on it.

“No.” That was all she could manage.

“You’re halfway to on your ass, sweetheart. C’mon.” Sweetheart? She felt herself guided over the curb and into a big black car. The other man holding the door actually winked at her and Stephanie squinted back in confusion before bestowing her best smile on him.

Once inside the limo, the world settled. “Where are we going?” Stephanie addressed the fine stuff of Dace’s suit. Even sitting, and with her head tipped back on the leather cushion, he towered above her.

“My place. We were to have dinner.”

Oh, that smooth, imperious tone. She heard it through her muzziness because the warning bells of self preservation rang, cutting through the stupor. Stephanie scooted to the far side of the enormous seat, struggling with the disconcerting feeling of her body not quite belonging to her, and narrowed her eyes on him.

“No. We are not.”

“Would you prefer we go to your apartment? It seems a shame to waste the food and effort I went to.”

Right, like she’d let him into her little nest. He’d be like a cuckoo, laying his mark against her will and leaving her to nurture the product. Not. “I was going to the diner.” Pretty specious but it was all she had.

“Nope. Not happening, Stephanie. Or should I call you Steffie? You’ve charmed Reg for him to be calling you by the diminutive.”

Slow neurons sifted through the implications of that. Oh my God. Her boss gave Dace Reynolds her number. It was untenable. Stephanie studied his implacable face and went for the gusto.

“I won’t whore for you.” Her announcement echoed in the closed quarters.

A noise between a snort and a choke emanated from the front of the limo. Dace’s attention snapped that way and immediately back to her. His face darkened, those light blue eyes icing over, and her stomach clenched, but she held her ground, locking her gaze on his, setting her teeth.

11) Which actor/character(s) would play the starring role? as Stephanie- Maggie Grace (Taken), and David Beckham as Dace.

Find Allyson Young on FB and on www.allysonyoung.com .

 

            Find Allyson Young on FB and on www.allysonyoung.com .