A Moment with Shara Lanel

Tell the readers a little about yourself.

Thanks for having me here today! Let’s see…I’m a doggy mom, a regular mom, and a wife, who doesn’t cook very well and sucks at housecleaning. Therefore I write. That, after much revising, I can do. I’m the author of eight novels and several short stories and novellas, all of them the super sexy kind. My abode is in Richmond, Virginia, and I’ve been enjoying the seventy degree weather in December.

As an author, do you take time to read? If so, what do you like to read and who is/are your favorite author/s?

I tend to read the most fiction in between projects and stick to non-fiction/research when I’m in the middle of something. I feel guilty reading a novel for hours when I’m supposed to be writing one.  You might consider my house a library if you examined the contents of every room—books everywhere. From romances to mysteries to sci-fi and fantasy. I can’t narrow it down to one favorite, but I’ve been reading a lot of Agatha Christie lately, some Gena Showalter and Heather Graham. And Doctor Who books.

How do you stay motivated when the Muse is uncooperative?

When I get stuck in a manuscript, usually about chapter three, I spend some time reading up on whatever subject(s) I’m working with, whether it be werewolves or Wicca or the original settlers of Western NY. I think this loosens “ze little gray cells” so I can write again. One thing that really motivated me this fall was attending the Writers Police Academy. The ride-along I did with one of the sheriff’s deputies inspired the hero I’m working on right now.

If you could go anywhere in the world on a romantic getaway, what would you do and where would you go?

Perhaps some place like the French Riviera. It strikes me as a place where you can enjoy the luxury of the past and present.  Enjoy the feel of suntan lotion slowly rubbed over my back by a man who’s particularly muscular and tan, dress up and cheer him on at a suave casino, listen to boats rocking and water lapping through the open window of our room in an Old World hotel. 

What is the hardest thing for you to write?

The middle.  I usually get stuck at the end of chapter three, get going again, get stuck a few chapters later, etc. Since I write by the seat of my pants, I never know what’s going to happen next in my books, which can really hinder getting to The End. But every time I outline I get bored and never want to finish the book. Catch-22.

If you could live the life of one of your characters who would you be?

Hmm, I think I would enjoy being Casey in Telekinetic Kisses, because I’ve always thought moving things with my mind would be cool. Plus she gets to hang out in a Mexican resort with sexy Agent Parker Nelson protecting her from bullets…and herself. Of course, I probably wouldn’t enjoy being kidnapped by bad guys or hidden and smuggled across the border, but it would certainly liven up things.

The tag line on my blog is ‘Indulge Your Inner Romantic.’ What do you do to indulge?

I love going to this little fondue restaurant not far from our house. A little wine, soft lighting, and chocolate fondue…perfect.

Contact:

http://www.sharalanel.com (my web site)

http://www.facebook.com/sharalanel (Facebook)

http://twitter.com/sharalanel (Twitter)

Email: shara@sharalanel.com

BLAME IT ON THE NIGHT

Blurb: 

Human/werewolf relations were forbidden. Guy’s father had made that clear years ago, but Guy had come very close to disobeying with naïve, teenage Olivia. He’d barely kept his body under control, as he’d held her during her first shocking orgasm. Years later, on edge with anger, grief, and the pull of the moon, Guy knows she’s the last person he needs near him.

Olivia is overcome with humiliation at the mere thought of seeing Guy again, though he’s starred in all of her fantasies over the past several years, but she refuses to leave his doorstep until he answers her questions about her missing sister and the dead body found on his property. Problem is, he’s ordering her to leave while blocking the door, telling her to get lost while pinning her between his hard body and the table, saying he doesn’t know what he’s doing while his every touch takes Olivia closer to heaven.

Sometimes forbidden love is worth the risk, but sometimes it leads to revenge and murder.

Buy link: http://www.loose-id.com/Blame-it-on-the-Night.aspx

EXCERPT:

John leaped, remaining in human form—mostly. His eyes shifted, and his claws grew. He flexed his fingers, then scraped his claws across Guy’s shoulder. He barely felt the cuts, and the skin healed immediately, unlike his shirt. Guy maneuvered the fight farther from Olivia and made one more jab at diplomacy. “Look, take me and say the human wasn’t with me. She’s flying home tonight, and we’ll never see her again. I’ll put her on the damn plane myself.”

John tapped his finger, with its long, curving nail, against his chin, leaving specks of Guy’s blood on his face. “Do you have something to offer me?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I want her.”

Guy shook his head. “The point of the deal is for her to go home safely.”

“I will agree to that if I can have her first. I have to admit, my view earlier gave me a raging hard-on.” He licked his lips and his chin and Guy’s blood, reminding Guy of a lizard. “Is she tight?”

*  *  *

Olivia had sawed through one strand of rope, which gave her hand more maneuverability but didn’t loosen the rest as she’d hoped. She was freaking out on every level possible, one of which kept telling her to wake the hell up from this nightmare. The languid feeling that came from having a strong orgasm had given way to surging adrenaline—she realized she was in the presence of monsters.

“What are you?” she whispered. Guy glanced at her, apology in his eyes, but John struck his stomach, and he bent forward. The fight was on, with each man—or whatever the hell they were—striking and evading at lightning-fast speed. They crossed the entire room in the space of one blink. She could ignore the “human” reference—maybe this guy was a Trekkie—but the eyes were too much. They hadn’t gone back to normal in an instant, the way she’d seen Guy’s do. Then his nails had grown, thickened, curved. Her imagination just wasn’t that good; this had to be real.

Which meant Guy was a monster too.

Chief? She’d bet Mr. Chelan filled that role, which explained why Guy and Nootau acted so oddly around him. She nearly dropped the knife—that meant Nootau was supernatural too! Was everyone she’d grown up with not what they seemed? She’d trusted Guy—for the most part—and thought he was helping her and Amy. What if he or someone he knew was committing these murders and had her sister?

Finally she cut through the strand that allowed the rest of the rope to loosen. By now Guy’s eyes were those of a feral animal. Light scratches on Guy’s cheek healed in seconds, but deep gashes on his shoulder and ribs oozed blood, soaking his shirt—enough blood that Olivia felt light-headed from the sight. Guy swiped John’s thigh with his nails, leaving four deep, red gashes. John howled, backed up, then leaped, arms forward. Guy fell to the concrete floor, on top of him, a wolf—a huge black wolf with its mouth open, fangs at the ready.

Guy’s sorrowful gaze met Olivia’s for one second before he too turned into a wolf. The animals were both graceful and savage. Guy’s fur was brown with a silver underlay, but dark slashes crossed his face, a bandit’s mask created by black fur. The eyes that had looked so scary in his human face—well, they still looked scary—were handsome and intelligent now. They reflected the dim lighting in the basement and seemed to glow.