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About the author:
Born in Melbourne, Australia, I come from a professional dance background. I began writing my first book in 2009, a time-travel romance set in the Regency period.
50 Shades of Grey, was the first contemporary romance book I’d ever read. Up to that point, I’d spent my entire reading life buried in 19th century books, like Jane Austen, the Brontes, George Eliot just to name a few. Georgette Heyer and Daphne du Maurier were as modern as I got.
But then, one day, I picked up 50 Shades of Grey and couldn’t put it down. Impressed by their heart-felt, down to earth portrayal of love and sex, I quickly developed a voracious appetite for contemporary romance books. I was so inspired by the genre, that I decided to explore that world as a writer.
After completing a certificate in Writing Romance with the Australian College of Journalism I embarked on writing three books. All of which are still sitting on my computer.
Then Aidan Thornhill entered my imagination and came alive on paper. From that moment, like all emotional love stories, nothing else mattered. I fell in love. And was compelled to write, almost in a frenzy, every day without fail.
I am presently finishing the second and final instalments to the Thornhill Trilogy, Enlighten, & Enfold, which I plan to publish February 2018.
What inspired you to write your book?
My inspiration for this story came from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. It's not exactly like that, of course. But Aidan Thornhill has a similar brooding quality to Rochester. Like Rochester, Aidan regrets his past. Clarissa Moone, like Jane Eyre, is self-contained, creative, and although gentle in nature, is tremendously smart. And, as with Jane, Clarissa's fortune rises when she receives employment working for Aidan Thornhill at his large, beguiling estate. But that is the only comparison, for in Thornhill trilogy passion fills the pages early on in the story, and being a contemporary romance there is a fair share of descriptive love-making.
Here is a short sample from the book:
My muscles unwound in the salt water as I floated on my back. White gulls glided above in the cloudless blue sky, the breeze sending them on a journey to wherever. Weightlessly, I soared along with them.
Vigorous splashing suddenly woke me out of my meditation. I stood up in the water and spied Rocket chasing a ball. In his signature baseball cap and dark glasses, the sexy gardener was waist-high in the water.
As I made my way out, Rocket pounced on me to say hello, his paw leaving a scratch on my thigh. His master ran towards us. For some twisted reason, my eyes went to his wet shorts. That bulge was on full display and was impossible to miss. I immediately averted my eyes while heat engulfed me. Dripping wet, I remained frozen, pining for sunglasses. Can he read my attraction?
“I am very sorry about that. Did he scratch you?” he asked.
I checked the scratch on my thigh. It did sting a little, but I remained stoical. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry— the salt water should disinfect it.” My heart was in my mouth, and I could barely utter a clear word. He just got hotter and hotter.
“You may need it bandaged. There’s a first aid kit in one of the boats,” he said in that clit-swelling husk.
“No, that’s fine,” I said, smiling awkwardly. I really wanted to say yes, imagining his fingers visiting my injured thigh and beyond.
How stupidly bashful can one be?
Rocket stood by my side, sincere apology written in his large, soulful eyes.
He shook his head. “Boy, he likes you,” he said, patting the dog.
“He’s a cute dog.”
Although he was mysterious as ever in those dark glasses, I still sensed his gaze burning into me.
“Well, then, I’d best leave you to it,” he said, lingering. Like me, he seemed unsure. Cold comfort, really. Two shy people resulted in frustration. And frustrated was certainly how I felt watching him turn away. His butt looked delightfully squeezable. I swallowed hard as I watched his strong, athletic calf muscles flex on the soft sand.
After I returned from my little swim, I was so ravished by fantasies that I needed a session with Toy Boy. When Tabitha gave her vibrator that name, we laughed our heads off. From that moment on, I referred to my trusty, battery-operated friend as Toy Boy too.
I lay there alone in the dark. The image of his hungry hands all over me, and his big hungry penis, sent a delicious ache, making my orgasm more intense than usual. As I panted on my back, an inner voice screamed, you must find a man.