There's always the one…
He's one person throughout life you think about every so often, the one who leaves his unique indelible mark on you, the person with whom you need closure.
For Margaret Collins that person was Mike Taylor. After he broke her heart seventeen years ago, she left everything she knew and reinvented herself. With a new home, a new look and a new name, Riley Williams is now an up and coming journalist given the assignment to interview a Mike Taylor. She never suspected he would be her Mike Taylor.
With Mike having no hint of Riley's true identity, she must decide if she will make him pay for sins he doesn't remember committing, or if she can wipe away the past and be with the one man who she has always wanted?
Can she finally have closure?
1 1. How did you get started writing erotica? Was there any one thing that inspired you?
I love romance, but I didn't want them to stop at the closing of a door, or not put in all the detail. When I first started writing and came to my own sex scene, everyone told me to push the limit and that's exactly what I did.
I love romance writers like Johanna Lindsey, I just wish she would have taken it further.
2. Open your newest book and tell us what is happening.
Mike and Riley are having coconut cake and its turning into quite a sweet treat in more ways than one until they are interrupted by one of his work associates and his lack of an introduction brings all her fears to the forefront.
3. What is your favorite thing about writing in the erotica genre?
Being able to have of the romance and all of the sex. Being able to write whatever I see in my head and not being judged.
4. What is your favorite type of character to write about?
I love heroines who think their strong but still need a man at the end of the day, and I love bad boys and tortured soul heroes.
5. Chocolate or healthy fruit snack (or both)?
Chocolate covered strawberries! Then I feel like its healthy. Actually any fruit covered in chocolate. Love bananas.
6. Pizza or sushi?
Neither – Steak! I am a carnivore all the way. My boss says he's never been at a dinner with me where I haven't ordered a steak.
7. If your characters went out to dinner, what would be the scene. Set it. Lights! Camera! Action!
Dark lit restaurant, red leather booths, them in the back corner trying to be not obvious while they ravaged each other rather than the food.
8. Ice cream tells you lots about a person. What is your favorite? (and I know it's not vanilla!)
Salted Caramel Frozen Yogurt from Yogurtland – YUM!!!
9. Tell us about the sexiest scene you have ever written.
My sexiest scene, or I guess I'll say my favorite scene, was in The Promise. My heroine has been denied her orgasm for quite a while, and the demon that is going to torture her finally gives her relief. It is a short in Darkest Desires, but I am doing the expanded version of the story as a stand alone because I couldn't get enough of these characters.
10. As a writer, we all have tough spots that drive us crazy. For me it is fight scenes. What are one of the spots that give you Hell and what do you do to try to work out the kinks. ( I play with stuffed animals and make them work for it!)
I have the hardest times getting my characters out of their clothes! You can't just wish the clothes into the cornfield, but you also can't spend three pages while you get them unclothed. If I have more than two people it really turns into an issue. I just try to find creative ways to get them naked, sometimes I feel like Gypsy Rose Lee!
After fifteen minutes of discussing the world of digital publishing with Mike
Taylor, Riley realized this man had absolutely no twinge of recollection of her.
"The world has changed. Everything is interconnected. Feedback comes from all over and is instantaneous. No longer can writers live in a bubble, they need to interact.
You either need to get on the ride and hold on, or you will fall out of the car and be run over." Mike picked up the butter knife, twirling it between his fingers.
One thing was certain. The driven valedictorian of seventeen years ago turned into a driven business mogul. The way he spoke about his work reminded her of the speeches he gave in student counsel, and the lectures he gave her during their tutoring sessions.
She'd been part of him giving back to the school, but she became the fool who thought it was more. "Some would say the writer should write for themselves."
Years ago they had this exact conversation when she wanted to write a story about a town stuck in permanent summer and how they craved winter for her essay instead of what she did on her vacation. He told her to do the assignment as instructed. No, he demanded she follow the directions.
She shifted her focus from his grey-blue eyes and his one crooked tooth to the sprig of mint on the edge of the glass. The man should have been on a billboard on Sunset Boulevard touting the slogan 'people never change.' Back in school, people feared the way he stormed in and took control of any situation, said tough truths and made things happen without turning back to see who or what he left in his wake.
"What if the writer wants to actually sell something?" He tilted his head. "There is a way to do things."
At one point she'd thought herself immune to his destruction because she was attracted to it. They had a connection, an unspoken bond. Did they have that now?
She wrote the story her way, and failed. He insisted on sitting with her in an empty classroom while she rewrote the assignment, telling her he had to make sure she did it correctly. It was freeing having someone tell her what to do, insist she color within the lines.
While she forced out every word, he read the original. That night at home, she found the papers in her messenger bag. On the last page he wrote Awesome, but you didn't follow the rules. She saved that paper shoved in a box with the memory of the girl who pressed the pages to her chest and dreamt about the boy who wrote it as if he were some teen idol.
"Do you always follow the rules, Mr. Taylor?"
The corner of his mouth twitched, his eyes widened.
For a scant second she thought she noticed a flash of familiarity. Her heart stopped along with her breathing, pausing to find out what would happen next. Did the connection die, whither away with time, or was it always there?
"You follow them until you are allowed to make them." He tapped the point of the knife on his butter dish.
"When do you allow yourself to break them?" She focused on her iced tea, but reached across the table for the bread and brushed her hand against his.
"Excuse me." She swore her body tingled, or she wanted that reaction. Still, she squirmed in her seat.
He looked straight into her eyes. "You're different."
She forced herself to stare back. Again, his words took her back to those high school halls. He had asked her why she insisted on being different. She told him there weren't any rules. There also weren't many people in Peoria, Illinois with maroon hair, white makeup, a nose ring and all black clothes. Too many days she found ads for the local funeral parlor stuffed into her locker. She was by herself, wilting in a town that didn't understand, until Mike Taylor took her on.
"How so?" Her voice sounded as if someone else were speaking for her. What she really wanted to ask was if he felt it, too.
He put the knife down and rubbed his chin. "Are you going to write any of this down?"
She pursed her lips, holding back the words she wanted to let out. Right when the questions got tough, when he didn't have control, when he would be exposed, he went another direction. He veered a road where he knew the map. "That's what they pay me for."
"How are you going to remember what I said?" He crossed his arms.
"Are you worried I'm going to get something wrong?" Without him knowing, they slipped back into their old banter. She reached into her bag, found a pad and pen and held them up. "Do you feel better now?"
"Yes, different." He pressed his back against the chair. "A challenge." His smile let the tooth peek out, while seventeen years caused the little wrinkle at corner of his eye to appear. "You know, I have some meetings here the rest of this week."
"Should I be writing this down?" She clicked the pen twice, trying to stop herself from reading more into this.
"Not unless you're writing down your address so I know where to pick you up for dinner tomorrow night."
Everything stopped. Even if only in her mind, for that second the world froze. The constant clink of dishes ceased, the bustling wait staff stood motionless.
Back in the school hallway when he had invited her out, he used a similar assumptive close. He turned to her and asked what time he should get her Friday night.
Though the years had diminished the pain, to this day every now and again, she wondered what would have happened if took her out rather than succumbing to the pressure of his friends and parents. She'd been nothing but a project when she wanted to be a girl.
Here together, they repeated history, but not in his eyes. She couldn't blame him for not knowing her. She'd changed her name, changed her looks, but never managed to change her heart.
She always wondered.
Maybe she always wished.
Was she handed another chance to get her heart ripped to shreds, or had she just received the ultimate do-over?
"Excuse me for a moment." She pushed her chair back and walked away.
To celebrate the release of her new book, Kim has offered up some fun prizes! Leave a comment about your person who got away or your favorite kind of erotica type of character to read about.
e-book copy of Closure
print copy Closure and bear. (US only please)
Contest will be from 11/26-12/3. Kim will choose the winner, so make those comments super fun! Leave your email addy so she knows who to contact.
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