1.  What is the working title of your book?

Instead of battling with working titles, I’ve decided to forego the struggle and give them really fun zippy names that make me smile when I click on the file.  No, really.  It’s true.  So now that I’ve just finished the last book in the Jaded, “Desire Wears Diamonds” (which coincidentally was ALWAYS the title for that book), I get to go back to the drawing board.  Current Working Titles Include: A Dance With the Devil in the Pale Moonlight, Too Many Men Too Little Time and You Can Give A Demon A Donut.

2.  Where did the idea come from for the book?

Seriously?  From the vast swirling nonsense that is my brain.  From arguments with imaginary people about the nature of the universe.  From a weird dream I had after eating too many kiwis and from my aversion to the very male-centric view of the apocalypse.  (I mean, why do the boys get to have all the fun?)

3.  What genre does your book come under?

I apparently have one WIP in each of the following categories:  Historical Romance, Contemporary Paranormal, Alternative Future/Urban Fantasy/RB Brain Fever.  That last one is sure to be a mega-hit!

4.  Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

If a movie is ever made of one of my books, I imagine I will have no protests as I sit happily on the sidelines, with a big sappy smile on my face….  the muppets could do it and I’d be overwhelmed.  Now, that’s not to say that at the premiere or after-party I’m not angling hard to spill a drink on Gerard Butler….

5.  What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Which one?  Here’s the one-sentence synopsis of my life.  “Renee Bernard lives a life on the edge (of reason, of sanity, of normal, of the suburbs) and yet battles a fear of falling as a one-woman contradiction of why some people have to write in order to appear normal at PTA functions.”

6.  Is your book self-published, published by an indie or represented by an agency?

I have an agent, Eric Ruben.  I pay him in compliments.  He is wonderful. (see?  Right there, that was July’s installment.)  No, he is lovely (see? that was extra!) and we have a professional contract involving money at some point (or so I keep promising him.)  The last one was self-published after working with a publisher for the rest of the series, so apparently I’m ambidextrous or ambipublished.  Bi-published?  Omni-published?  oh. my.

7.  How long did it take you to write the first draft of your MS?

Too long.  Stupid brain.  Way too long.  (I’m thinking about “Desire Wears Diamonds” here.)  My own fault.  I didn’t want the series to end.  I didn’t want to say goodbye to those characters and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone with the “Big Finish”.  What a goof!

8.  What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Okay, I’m assuming we’re back to “Diamonds” here.  Um…ooh, if I pick somebody spectacular will people believe me and buy the book??  I want to say Laura Kinsale, because I LOVE Laura Kinsale.  But honestly, I don’t know.  I deliberately don’t read books in my genres because I don’t want to accidentally borrow someone else’s mojo.  I did read Heather Snow because Lindsey Ross made me.  I loved her books, too.  Does that count?

9.  Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Okay.  Isn’t this like #2?  But let’s stretch it.  I was INSPIRED to write “Desire Wears Diamonds” because I didn’t want to let the readers down and if the series had been cut off after “Obsession Wears Opals” with no answers, resolutions, and No Michael Rutherford’s Story, I didn’t think I could live with that.  So I went on, and wrote it for them and for me.  So that we can sleep at night.

And the new stuff.  I’m inspired by the world around me and the chaos around me.  Hold on, my few faithful fans.  I think I’m finally hitting my stride.

10.  What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

For “Diamonds”? There’s a gory penny dreadful in the bonus material I think everyone will get a nice thrill out of (it’s dreadful.  No.  That’s the point!)  But pop over for excerpts on Amazon and please please please buy my book.

New stuff….hmmm….let’s see….

***

“You’re mental, right?”

“I think if we were having this conversation in a basement decorated with torn out newspaper articles, black-light posters and me drooling about how I have conversations with dogs and wear tinfoil underwear, you might have a case.”  He deliberately glanced around the room, silently pointing out the lack of “mental” revealed by his beautifully appointed modern office and furnishings.  The view was worth millions and if it weren’t for the black onyx desk, it would be easy to mistake it for an ordinary executive’s digs.  “I think we can rule out insanity—on both sides of this argument.”

“Right, since I’m not the one proclaiming to be the Prince of Darkness,” she said with a touch of sarcasm she couldn’t prevent.  After all, even pretending to take him seriously made her consider that she might not be firing on all cylinders.  “Is it possible you’re just a very wealthy man in need of medication?”

“Sure.  Anything is possible,” he conceded, his open smile disarming her as he was obviously beginning to genuinely enjoy the debate.  “Laura, I could be an eccentric billionaire intent on impressing you by pretending to be Lucifer.   Stranger things have happened.”

“Name one thing stranger than this.”

“Besides the fashion of the 80’s and people who resemble their dogs?”

She smiled.  The man was just too charming for his own good.  “Okay, stranger things have happened.  It doesn’t mean you’re the devil.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?  That’s it?  No offer to demonstrate your powers or even just a few more clever arguments about how medication won’t help?”

“It’s a job, Laura, not an illness.  But a demonstration… It might work.”

“Might?”  She crossed her arms playfully.  “What kind of lame demo are you imagining if I can potentially blow it off?”

He laughed.  “The human mind is a tricky thing, lady.  No matter what the “wow factor”, I’ve seen people blame food poisoning or look for green screens before they believe their own senses.  It’s always a revelation how far you’ll go to ignore the truth after it’s bumped up against your nose.”

“You?”

“I meant to say, “you” as in the general “you human beings”… I’m not going to thump you on the nose, if that was a concern.”

He was so calm and she suddenly had the sinking feeling that there was a small chance that she was wrong and that he wasn’t lying or playing a game.  But I need you to be crazy, big guy, because the alternative is…unacceptable.  I can’t be standing here making cow eyes at a man who wears horns and a red suit on casual Fridays!

“I’ll skip the demo then,” she offered, hating the tremor in her voice that made her sound frightened and small.  “But I will say this, for the Devil, you’re being very forthright to admit it, aren’t you?  I mean, wouldn’t lying be more in line with your character?”

He shook his head.  “Ah, the myth about being the Prince of Lies!”  He gestured her toward one of the comfortable looking upholstered chairs situated over by the bar on the wall.  “Fiction and dogma have done a lot for the job’s reputation, but seriously, while the first Lucifer may have bent a few rules as directed, deception’s not our strong suit.”

“Deception isn’t whose strong suit?”  She took the seat he’d offered and admired the man as he settled in across from her.

“Angels.  Anything a shade or two past a white lie, which even we need for our social survival on this planet, but anything heftier than that—it’s like retching up battery acid.  I’ve never heard of anyone of my peers even attempting a good whopper.  It doesn’t exactly make sense, considering the omniscient powers of Upper Management.  I mean, a lie is a pretty stupid invention, isn’t it, if you report directly to God?  I’m guessing He doesn’t have to wait for a performance evaluation to call you on it.”

“So you just tell everyone you’re the Devil, right up front?  Doesn’t that make the soul collecting a little challenging?”

“No and no!  Souls are not like souvenir spoons to be collected and what in the world would I do with such a thing!”  He looked genuinely insulted.  “I don’t tell anyone much of anything, since I don’t usually interact with too many people.  So there’s no Faustian quest… Your soul is yours to protect and keep just as it should be, Laura.”

“I’m sorry.  I just… Okay, what is your job, exactly?”

“Well, besides just existing and providing a focal point and scapegoat for those who need it, there’s a lot of paperwork and record keeping involved.  It’s not as exciting as one might imagine.”

“You don’t…create evil and destroy people?”

He ran a hand through his unruly curls and sighed.  “Evil may have required a nudge in the early days, but that hasn’t been the case for more centuries than you want to count.  Human beings are capable of inventing their own atrocities and coming up with their own methods of destruction.”  His grief was palpable.  “I’m just the unlucky guy who gets a front row seat.”

Angels. Demons. Devils.  Every word had felt a tad cartoonish before this moment.  But here you are, and I’m looking at you and if ever a man looked like an angel with those burnished gold curls and those tawny eyes—okay, guy, I’m not laughing anymore.

“So, you’re—“

He reached out and took her hand, the movement swift enough to arrest her train of thought but not fast enough to be alarming.  “Demo time, Laura.  Then I promise I’ll answer any question you have.”

“D-demo?”

The shift was instantaneous and didn’t come along with a single movie sound effect to undercut its impact.  One moment she’d been sitting in a leather upholstered chair across from Luke and the next, Laura was standing with him on the edge of a sheer cliff overlooking a vast ocean lit with the orange glow of a setting sun.  There was a tropical warm breeze pushing her hair back from her face and somewhere far below the surf pounded in a rhythm that synchronized with her heartbeat.  His hand holding hers was the only constant, and it was all she could do not to start screaming or babbling in sheer terror.

Omigod!  Holy freakin’ mother of all hallucinations!  What the–?!

His voice was calm, holding her in check.  “I told you a demonstration isn’t always the way to go.  But to be honest, I need you, Laura.”

“Y-you need me?”  His words were so unexpected that Laura’s shock at locale gave way to focus only on him and the flow of a conversation more surreal than anything else.

“I need you to believe me.  I need you to trust me.  And—“ he paused suddenly.

“And?” she prompted him breathlessly, her grip on his fingers tightening.

“I need you to love me.”

Game over.

**