In the Author Spotlight & Contest
Annabel Joseph

CONTEST: Annabel will be giving away a free e-copy of her featured release, Firebird. She'll draw a winner next Monday from whoever posts a comment this week. Make sure to leave your email addy. Best wishes!

AL: Hi Annabel! Thanks for being in the “Author Spotlight” this week.

Annabel: I’m very happy to be here. I love your site.

AL: So, tell us what’s happening with you.

Annabel: Oh, it’s the Summer of Fun here! The kids have been out of school for three weeks now and I’ve been trying to keep them busy with “theme” days. Yesterday we planted a garden for “Butterfly Garden Day” and today was “Board Game Day” so I’m sort of Monopoly’d out. We’ve also had themes like Zoo Day, Puppet Day, IKEA Day, Pool Party on the Patio Day, and the kids are really excited about “Harry Potter Day” coming up soon. As for me, all I have to say is, eight more weeks to go—I hope I survive.

AL: Tell us about your new or upcoming release.

Annabel: Firebird is out this week, June 15th, at Loose-id.com. It’s a BDSM contemporary romance about a dancer from the back of the corps who is selected by the new choreographer to dance the lead in his production of Firebird. She’s sort of shy and a real perfectionist, and through a plot twist he becomes not just her choreographer but also her Dom. It’s sexy and hot but there’s a nice emotional storyline too about two people trying to connect on a much deeper level than just the sex and D/S.

AL: What other works are you “whipping” up for us?

Annabel: Tee hee. I’ve got two more BDSM romances that are contracted to Ellora’s Cave and should be out the second half of this year. The first is called Deep in the Woods, and it’s an exploration of the issue of abuse and personal limits in the world of BDSM. It’s a bit dark in places, but the hero and heroine overcome her past traumas and find happily ever after in the end. The second is called Fortune. Fortune came about because I fell in love with one of the secondary characters from Deep in the Woods, an origami-obsessed surgeon named Ryan. I thought he needed his own book and his story came to me almost like magic. I found a great little reckless club girl for him to fall in love with, and boy, are they an odd couple! But it’s really fun. Fortune is about the whole idea of fate and finding true love when it seems least likely to work out.

AL: You write in a couple different genres, do you favor one genre over another?

Annabel: I’m always drawn to writing historical romance, but it’s really difficult for me because I also want to write the kinky sex and D/s, and the two don’t exactly fit together. I’ve actually got three historicals I’m working on, but I’m not sure where I want to go with them. The BDSM contemporaries sell really well for me and they seem pretty popular as a genre, so that’s where I concentrate most of my writing.

AL: You write submissive/dominant story lines. How do you know when you’ve crossed the line between romance/erotica to something else all together?

Annabel: Oh, I wish I did know! I know some readers find my work a bit “edgy.” It’s funny, but since I’ve been doing the dominance and submission thing in my own life and marriage for so long, there are a lot of things that seem natural and fine to me that sort of freak out your average romance reader when I put them in a book. I’m trying to find that balance between writing the edgier, really sexy D/S stuff I enjoy, but still making it palatable to the more mainstream BDSM romance readers. I don’t want to turn anyone off, but at the same time, I want to be true to what I personally find beautiful and sexy within the realm of dominance and submission.

AL: What do you feel is the most important thing that a first-time author should know?

Annabel: I think first time authors need to understand the importance of listening to other people’s opinions and advice when you’re getting started. It can be hard to hear that your writing isn’t perfect and that some things you’re trying to do aren’t working, but editors and other people in the business really know what they’re doing and what readers want. You don’t necessarily need to take every bit of advice and follow it verbatim, but at least listen. Don’t shut yourself off and be inflexible, because you might miss a really great opportunity for growth.

AL: Now, let’s take a splash into the pool…Summer is here! What will the readers find you in; a bikini, one piece, or a full body wet suit diving into the waves?

Annabel: I’m a tankini girl! Something to hold in the tummy and push up the boobs.

AL: Where would you like to travel if you had the chance?

Annabel: I’d love to go over to the British Isles and tour historical sites and castles, and even go up to the Orkneys and Scotland. Ooh, I am crazy for a Scotsman in a kilt!

AL: What is your favorite food?

Annabel: It’s probably a toss up between fried zucchini and boiled peanuts. What can I say? I’m a southern girl.

AL: What’s your biggest regret in life?

Annabel: Oh, this is sad to say, but I have a lot of regrets. I suppose my main regret is that I tend to be a terrible bridge burner. I have a temper, and I say things that I can’t take back, and I have a lot of regrets related to that.

AL: Silly question… If you were a Super heroine, would you wear tights and a cape?

Annabel: Oh, yes. It’s all about the drama with me. And I love to wear tights! I’m sure I’d have some garish bright baby pink and crimson get-up going on.

AL: Please share a favorite quote(s) with us.

Annabel: Henry David Thoreau said, “The world is but a canvas to the imagination.”
I love to look at the world as an artist and writer and see things no one else sees.

AL: Thanks so much for sharing with us this week, Annabel.

Annabel: It was my pleasure. Thanks so much for having me.

AL: If you’d like to find out more about Annabel please visit:

http://annabeljoseph.wordpress.com/
http://www.loose-id.com/Firebird.aspx

FEATURED TITLE: FIREBIRD

Blurb:

Prosper is thrilled to be plucked from the corps de ballet to dance the lead role in Stravinsky’s Firebird. But Jackson, the guest choreographer, is as sexy as he is demanding. Prosper soon finds herself flustered by his closeness and his unforgiving gaze. She gets caught up in kinky fantasies that make it difficult for her to concentrate on his steps. She imagines him as her Dominant, turning her over his knee for flubs in rehearsal. Just as sensual tension at work builds to an impossible level, a surprise encounter outside the studio results in Prosper’s fantasies being realized. Jackson takes his protégée home and ties her to his bed. Soon Prosper is receiving the discipline and domination she craves -- and much, much more.

The pair maintain a secret off-stage relationship -- scorchingly intimate encounters several evenings a week. But Prosper begins to feel the burden of carrying the Firebird ballet on her back, and Jackson knows that his time in New York will draw to an end all too soon. Will Prosper crack under the pressure of pleasing her lover and bringing his vision to life? Will Jackson find a way to help his struggling Firebird take flight?

Excerpt (ADULT CONTENT - YOU MUST BE 18 OR OLDER TO READ FURTHER):

Foolish of her. When he’d said, “Let’s sit for a minute and have a drink,” she had imagined actually sitting somewhere, perhaps on the plush textured sofa he’d just beaten her over or at the table over by the kitchen. But no. She was tied spread-eagle to his iron headboard and footboard while he had a drink and occasionally had her lick some drops from his fingers. She wasn’t much of a drinker, so she didn’t know what it was, and she was too mindless with lust to ask.

She had never in her life given a successful blowjob. She’d tried, but invariably the guys had stopped her, given up, and decided to try to come another way. Honestly, her heart had never been in it. She’d thought it gross, icky. Dirty. Well, she had before. Obviously she felt differently now. She had sucked him off eagerly and enjoyed every moment of it, driven on by his insistent hands in her hair.

She looked at him now, and he gazed back at her with a lazy smile. She looked away, blushed. He dipped his fingers into the amber liquid for her to suck on, then brought an ice cube to her lips. “Hot, girl?”

Damn it. She was burning, while he was calm and satisfied. The agitation, the intensity he’d greeted her with had disappeared with his convulsive orgasm. Now she was the one who was agitated, while he seemed perfectly content to play.

“Lick it nicely,” he chided when she tried to bite the cube he held to her mouth. “Toy with it like you toyed with my cock before.”

Half-embarrassed, half-aroused, she tongued it, using the tip to swirl around one pointed end of the cube. She opened wider, stuck her tongue out, and lapped at the broad icy surface.

“Mmm, that’s right. Very fast learner. Inborn talent. But I knew that already about you.” He replaced the cube in the glass and looked down at her, tracing his finger along the stays of her corset. “I bet your mother was a siren, wasn’t she? A total slut.”

“My mother was Amish.”

Jackson did an exaggerated spit take that started her giggling.

“I know — it’s weird. She’s not anymore. They shunned her when I was just a baby.”

“Why?”

“It came out that I…I wasn’t my father’s daughter.”

She saw understanding dawn. He reached for a lock of her hair.

“Next-door neighbor was a redhead?”

“Something like that. My mother and the man she had…sinned with…were driven away. But he went back to the People before long. He left her, and they took him back. My mother married again and…” She waved her hand. Jackson played with her locks, twirling the curls around his fingers.

“I can’t imagine hiding this hair of yours away under one of those staid white caps. Criminal. Thank God she didn’t return when he did. You’d be sitting somewhere reading a Bible right now.”

She shrugged. “It was never the life for my mother. She was a dancer too. Well, she wanted to be. When she was little, she would hide away and dance in secret because it wasn’t permitted. She had to make up her own songs to dance to. She was a free spirit, though, all her life. When I started to dance, I was very little. Two or three. She was overjoyed.”

She fell silent. He looked at her expectantly, but she didn’t go on. He took another drink, and while she wanted his fingers in her mouth again, he gave her more questions instead.

“You said she was. Is she still alive?”

“Oh yes. She is.”

“Still overjoyed that you dance?”

“I guess. I don’t see her very much.” Her voice wobbled. She felt the familiar agitation that overcame her whenever she talked about her mother, her family. She knew he noticed, but mercifully he let that line of questioning drop.

“So Prosperity is Amish in origin, I suppose?” He drained the last of the drink and then set it on the table beside the bed. She watched the muscles of his stomach shift and contract as he bent and straightened, watched the perfection of his outstretched arm, his wrist, his hand. He resumed his seat between her thighs, pinching the tender skin above her stocking.

"Answer me.”

“No, Sir,” she said, tearing her gaze from his thickening cock. “My Amish name was Mary. My mother changed it after she left.”

“In a fit of optimism for her new life?”

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” She was finding it hard to concentrate on the conversation as his hands ran up both her thighs. She tried hard to be still, to not buck and fidget the way she wanted to. She wanted to lift her hips and thrust her throbbing clit right against his hand. Please touch me; please touch me; please touch…

“Hot, Prosper?” He knelt over her so his eyes were inches away from hers. The expression on his face told her he expected her to answer this time.

“Yes, Sir.”

“‘Yes, Sir, I’m hot,’” he prompted.

“Yes, Sir. I’m hot.” She practically whimpered the words.

“I can see that you are.” He moved one hand to her breast, pulled the cup of the corset down so her nipple was exposed, taut and pointed. “Hot indeed.” His fingertips brushed across her nipple, making her breath stop. With each light stroke, the fire in her clit flared. Then the fingertips clamped down, hard, harder, twisting. The pain became excruciating, shocking. Her plaintive groan rose to a cry. “Ohhh! Please!”

"Shh. I’m just getting started with you. You’re not very good at sex, remember? I think I’ll need to work on conditioning some appropriate sexual response.” As he spoke, his fingertips moved to torture her other rock-hard nipple. Then he took both firmly between the pads of his thumbs and forefingers and squeezed.

Oh God! The pain in her nipples and the throbbing in her pussy became one crippling ache. She needed more; she needed less. He was making her lose her mind. She panted, throwing her head back.

“You seem to like that well enough.” He released her and slid one cool palm down the length of her smooth black corset to where her hips arched, searching for contact, searching for release. “Let’s see how you like this.” His palm stroked over her mons and stopped, one dexterous fingertip brushing once, twice across her clit.

She gasped and strained at the bonds.

“Please!”

“Please, what?”

“Please, again! Please, again, Sir!”

He pretended to consider it. “Okay. First I want to hear you say you like sex.”

“I like sex!” she babbled immediately.

“‘I’m good at having sex –’”

“I’m good at having sex!”

“‘I’m a slut for cock.’”

“I’m a — I’m a –”

He stroked her again, the lightest touch to tease. She whined and twisted her hips as he withdrew his finger, aching to feel the pleasure again.

“Say it.”

“I’m a s-slut for cock.”

“Like you mean it.” He held her hips still and leaned over her to pull a taut nipple into his mouth. He nipped at it with his rough lips, then bit down on it.

“Oh God!” she cried. “I’m a slut for cock!”

“Yes, you are.” He licked the beating pulse in her neck. “And you’re going to come for me like the sex-starved, cock-loving slut that you are. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir!”

He put his hands on his thick length, stroking it before her eyes.

“If I give you my cock, you better let me know how much you like it.”

“Yes, yes, please — I will –” She watched as he reached for a drawer in the side table. He pulled out a condom and ripped open the package. The five seconds he took to put it on seemed an eternity. She wasn’t able to move more than a few inches in any direction. She felt helpless and trapped, which only made her pussy ache harder.

He gentled her with a hand on her shoulder, a firm kiss on her hair. She steeled herself not to shift, not to fidget. He hadn’t told her specifically not to, but she was pretty sure by now what was expected of her at times like this: pure, still obedience. The concession that she was his. That every sound, every movement, every gasp or sigh was to be the result of his own hand. His palm stroked down to rest on her pubic bone. She shivered as he aligned himself even more closely to her. Now truly they would be joined in every manner of the word.

Please. Sex.

She felt the unforgiving steel of his muscles press against her front, felt him positioning his cock at her entrance. She just thought over and over:

Please…I don‘t care what our relationship is. I don‘t care.

I don‘t care if I get in trouble; I don‘t care if everyone knows.

I don‘t even care if you hurt me.

Please. Please. Have sex with me now.

REMEMBER: Annabel will be giving away a free e-copy of her featured release, Firebird. She'll draw a winner next Monday from whoever posts a comment this week. Make sure to leave your email addy. Best wishes!