June is I :::Heart::: Erotic Romance month at my blog. During these next thirty days, I’ll be featuring authors who write erotic romance, besides the usual blog posts. Today, I have D.S. Dehel in the interview chair. We’re discussing her erotic romance Magnolia and Moonlight. Be sure to check out the excerpt.
1. What drew you to writing erotic romance?
D.S.: I don’t think I thought of it as “Erotic Romance.” I write stories about people, and people have sex. It was simply a natural part of the story I had to tell.
2. What do you like most about writing erotic romance?
D.S.: The sheer romance of it, and the escaping into another world (or place or time, depending on the story.) I love creating characters that you would want to sit down and have a drink with.
3. What do you like least about writing erotic romance?
D.S.: No one tells you how hard sex scenes are to write. Translating the images in my head onto the page is difficult enough, but writing a sex scene is more complex. It’s like walking a narrow mountain ledge with Purple Prose on one side and Clinical Porn on the other. It’s a difficult balancing act. Think about it: how does one describe the sounds without being gross or unintentionally funny?
4. Why did you write this book you are featuring?
D.S.: A few years ago, I had visited the Belle Grove I based the house on, and though it’s reputedly haunted, I saw no ghost. Alas. So instead, I imagined who might have lived there at one time and how their history would look to modern viewers, since mores have changed. Personally, I love doing historical research, so I had to have a character researching. Finally, the whole atmosphere begged for a Southern Gothic treatment, so I tried my hand at that.
5. Why do you think readers should invest their time in reading erotic romance?
D.S.: Life is too complicated and overwhelming right now, so why not escape into someone else’s sexy life? Not to mention the fact that A LOT of writers feature sex scenes in their books.
Secrets hide in the magnolia moonlight.
Blurb: Caro Talbot loves Belle Grove, but not the people caring for it, and things get worse when they invite Desmond Mason to research the house’s history. Yet Dez is different from what she expects, and she becomes determined to help him solve the puzzle of the woman in the painting that’s hung in the house for years.
As Halloween approaches, Dez pries into secrets she’d rather keep, raising the ghost of her past. Caro has to decide whether to trust a man she hardly knows or run the risk of being eternally lonely.
No hesitation this time, he swiftly bent and swept her into a deep kiss. Caught up in the passion, she rose on tiptoe and tangled her fingers in his hair. Kissing had long been a favorite sport for her, one she hadn’t been able to indulge in for a very long time, so she relished each second. His cologne smelled of woods and cognac and he tasted of exotic spices she’d only smelled.
Like being alive. The closest I’ve been in a long time. Time—they didn’t have much of it. She leaned into the kiss and ran her hands up his chest. Is this cashmere? Sensations long forgotten distracted her easily. Focus.
He shifted his hands from her waist to her shoulders and back. “There’s so much fabric.” He laughed, then buried his head in her neck, kissing what skin he could reach.
“You underestimate a tea dress.” She stepped away. “They’re designed to be gotten into without any assistance.”
“Really?” He gestured to the confection of taffeta and lace. “I don’t see it.”
“How about we each undress ourselves? That will make things easier.” It also meant she could avoid his zipper. Those things mildly terrified her.
“Okay.” He gave her a half-smile. “That’s a solid idea.”
They both retreated a few feet. She kept her focus on him as she slid off the soft shoes. Men fascinated her. He went to pull off his sweater, then changed his mind and kicked off his shoes.
The moon decided to resume its game of peek-a-boo with the land and dipped behind a cloud, plunging the room into a darkness the single candle couldn’t penetrate. The design of the tea gown, with its hidden hooks in the front, made undressing simplicity itself. That, and the fact she hadn’t been dressed properly. No stockings. No bloomers. She wondered if she’d ever know why. She tossed the dress onto the end of the bed, where it promptly puddled itself on the floor.
“That was fast.” Dez’s voice came from the dark by the chair. The moon decided it would reappear, and she caught a glimpse of his bare chest before it vanished again.
“I told you they were easy. Even better. One didn’t usually wear a corset with them.”
“Damn. I like corsets. They’re sexy.” The buzz of a zipper let her know he’d made it to his pants.
“Only a man who has never worn one would think so.” She pulled her shift over her head and dropped it on the floor.
“Keep on your jewels.” The moon emerged but dimmed a second later. What light there was revealed a naked Dez. He was ascetically thin, reminding her of a poster a previous owner had hung on the wall in the parlor of a blond British singer.
“My jewels?” They weren’t anything special, just a large peridot necklace and earrings.
“Mm-hmm.” He stepped into the moonbeam and she could clearly see his erection.
Men are such interesting creatures. She met him in the beam, rising to kiss him.
D.S. Dehel is a lover of words, wine, and the Oxford comma. When she’s not immersed in a book, she is a mom to her four kids and her spoiled feline Mr. Darcy or two pampered pooches: Piper and Jaime. Having “retired” she spends her days dreaming up new plot lines and word smiting for hours on end. She adores literary allusions, hot sex scenes, and British men. Her husband is still convinced she writes children’s books. Please don’t enlighten him.