Today my guest at Vintage Vonnie is historical author, Jennifer Jakes. A chronic insomniac, Jennifer got used to making up stories while she waited to fall asleep. She claims it was a lot more interesting than counting sheep. Maybe too interesting, because she started staying awake so she could figure out "what happened" to her characters. For the sake of her health, she began writing the stories on paper - during the day. So far it's working out pretty good.
What is your life like away from the computer? Tell us something about your household. Jazzie, my cat, wants to know if you have any kitty-pusses.
It’s a crazy, loud place. LOL Kids, animals – yes, we have a Calico named Callie Mae – four dogs and a horse!
What is your writing schedule like?
I have to really think about my characters and plot for awhile. Then I write about 3 chapters, then think some more to see if I’m headed in the right direction. I edit as I go, so none of that writing a quick first draft for me. I could never do NaNo. Anyway, all of that said to say I don’t have a hard and fast schedule. But I can say I write faster after I’m happy with the first 1/3 of the story.
Do you enter writing contests? If so, has this been a positive experience for you? I do. After I’d worked on my writing for awhile, I enter the Gateway to the Best contest in 2009. I won First Place/Historical and took Best Overall. That gave me the courage to enter the RWA Golden Heart. RAFE’S REDEMPTION finaled in the Historical category in 2010, and I sold to The Wild Rose Press six months later. So, yes, a very positive experience.
Do you ever dream of writing in a different genre?
Genre, no. I’ll always be a Historical girl. But I do have an idea for a pirate story. So a different sub-genre, yes.
What are you currently working on?
I’m so bad. I have 3 stories. An erotic western twist on a Fairy Tale. My novel set in Alaska during the 1898 Gold Rush and that Pirate Novella I mentioned.
For fun: Coffee or Tea?…. Coffee in the morning; Iced tea the rest of the day.
Favorite color?… Red.
Favorite TV show?... Burn Notice & Hawaii 5-0.
Favorite actor?... Alex O’Loughlin (‘cuz he’s so pretty to look at).
Well, yes, Jennifer, I see what you mean...hummm...oh, yeah, the questions...
Funny movies or tear jerkers?... Funny movies.
Sneakers, flip-flops or Alex feet? I mean, bare-feet ... Bare-feet.
Do you listen to music when you write? ... Sometimes.
Suppose you tell us about your current release. Did you bring a blurb to share? Yes, a blurb and an excerpt I hope everyone will enjoy.
He rode into town to buy supplies, not a woman.
For hunted recluse Rafe McBride, the raven-haired beauty on the auction block is exactly what he doesn't need. A dependent woman will be another clue his vengeful stepbrother can use to find and kill him. But Rafe's conscience won't let him leave another innocent's virginity to the riff-raff bidding. He buys her, promising to return her to St. Louis untouched. He only prays the impending blizzard holds off before her sultry beauty breaks his willpower.
She wanted freedom, not a lover.
Whisked to the auction block by her devious, gambling cousin, and then sold into the arms of a gorgeous stranger, outspoken artist Maggie Monroe isn't about to go meekly. Especially when the rugged mountain man looks like sin and danger rolled into one. But a blizzard and temptation thrust them together, and Maggie yearns to explore her smoldering passion for Rafe.
But when the snow clears, will the danger and secrets that surround Rafe and Maggie tear them apart?
Maggie wanted freedom, not a lover…
Oh, Lord. He was going to kiss her. She shouldn’t want this. She was confused enough. Respectable women didn’t kiss men they barely knew, certainly not men who made them have wild, exotic dreams.
It was crazy. He was making her want crazy things. Making her not give a damn about her reputation or her virginity. Or her long-awaited freedom. All she could think about was that dream, and the way his sinful mouth had felt. The table was only a step away, and honey was just as sweet as peach juice…
She swallowed hard and looked up into his hooded eyes.
“Maggie,” he groaned. “Don’t be scared. I’d never hurt you.”
Her mouth parted to object, but firm lips covered hers, hungry, demanding. She gasped, shocked at his hunger, but even more at the illicit response coursing through her. An aching heat unfurled low in her stomach, pulsed between her legs. Oh, yes. It started just like in the dream.
He deepened the kiss, coaxed her lips with his warm tongue. Long, languid strokes teased the inside of her mouth, encouraging, tempting before he pulled back to nibble the corners of her lips.
Oh, God. Is this what all kisses felt like? Hot, lethargic? Melting her like molasses over warm bread?
“Kiss me, Maggie,” he breathed.