Bringing the Heat
During a recent discussion with my writer’s group, someone
asked me what methods you use to choose the genre. I pointed out that sometimes
the author doesn’t choose, the genre chooses him. Confusion was evident, so I
gave this explanation.
I write mysteries. I never started out to write romance, but
if I could work a little of it into the story as a subplot or minor diversion,
that was a bonus. Then I wrote “Devious” the first book in the Jamie Richmond
series. A friend read it and recommended Secret Cravings, a publisher she had
worked with. I argued that it wasn’t a romance novel, it was a mystery. She
argued that it was both. So on a chance, I submitted a query. A request for the
manuscript followed. To my surprise, they accepted the book. And they asked if I had plans for another
story with the main characters. I could have left Jamie and Malone at this
point, but felt there was more to their tale to tell. So I wrote “Vanishing Act”
and sent that along for consideration. Secret Cravings grabbed that one as
well.
While I continued to work on other stories, Jamie and her
antics kept coming to mind. So I decided to take a shot at a third novel. “Fleeing
Beauty” was the result and it brought a couple more characters to life and
added more of Jamie’s backstory. I added a few more twists and turns and
expanded on her relationship with Malone, which is still a work in progress.
That story was released in October.
As I said, I never started out to write romance stories. And
what happened along the way must have been the result of my subconscious mind.
Because I never planned to get so heavy with the romantic activity. So I’m going to blame this on Joanna. She’s a
great friend who for reasons that escape me enjoys reading the early drafts of
my work. On occasion she’s commented “I want to see more action in the bedroom”
and “they’re crazy! They do it every day!” which seems to be what she’s hoping
for. And that’s where I end up bringing the heat.
The publisher takes the story and determines what they refer
to as the “heat level”. I was unaware of
this at the time I wrote any of these stories.
The rankings are right there on the website, along with an
explanation. For example, 2 flames
includes some adult language, 3 flames is erotic with sensual and mild sex
scenes and 4 flames is explicit with more adult language. There’s also a level
5, which is more hard core.
What surprised me (and it’s because of Joanna) is that the
Jamie stories keep going up a notch. “Devious” is a level 2, “Vanishing Act” is
a level 3 and “Fleeing Beauty” is a level 4. If I write a fourth book in the
series and continue the trend, it will need a flame retardant cover!
But I’ll let you decide.
Here’s glimpse of the interaction between Jamie and Malone from “Devious”. Next time, I’ll share a bit from “Vanishing
Act”.
The first time on the sofa was
wild. There was no chance for foreplay. We both wanted it too much for that.
Clothes were flung so far that I didn't find my red bra until two days
later. It must have bounced off the wall
and slid behind the planter. After the initial rush, Malone introduced me to
the romantic aspects of each room in my apartment. At one point after a warm bath together, I
was on my stomach in bed and he proceeded to drive me crazy by slowly making patterns
down my spine with one solitary fingertip.
Each time after the first started
out slow and tender. A kiss here, fingers stroking there. Malone was toying
with me, bringing me to the edge of excitement now, his lips following his
finger. My whole body felt alive,
energized with the reactions to his touch.
He kissed his way up my body,
taking his time. A nuzzle here, another tantalizing kiss there. My skin was singing. My face was flushed,
probably as red as my hair. At about the
time I could actually feel my body starting to recover, he zeroed in on my
breasts.
Now I can’t say this is true for
all women. I can only speak for me. Maybe it’s because of the infrequency of
romantic interludes. Or maybe it’s my age. Or maybe the moon was rising.
My breasts are small. I hinted at
that before. There are fourteen-year old girls out there with bigger breasts
than mine. To clarify the situation, all my bras are padded and yes, the cup
size is A. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but it’s what I’ve got and I’d
never consider surgery to pump them up.
All I know is that when Malone starting stroking and kissing my breasts,
it’s like there was a direct connection down below. I was immediately wet with
anticipation yet again.
“What am I going to do with you,” I
whispered my voice little more than a feathery gasp.
“Whatever
you would like, I’m open to suggestions.”
