Jane is a gifted writer who has visited The Velvet Lair several times. Here's what she has to say about her two new releases:
These two books are
some of the most erotic I've written. In the recent years, my stories have
lightened up, become more mainstream with hot love scenes. So when I re-read
these early books, I was very pleasantly reminded with how much I loved writing
them.
Her
Hero
The second erotic
short I ever wrote was intended for a Whiskey Creek Press Torrid anthology
titled Lust. In that antho, the story
was Mercenary Desires. It was
republished by Siren and is now self-pubbed with a new title and new cover.
The inspiration for
this hot story was something not very "hot" at all. It was winter and
cough medications were advertised on TV. One particular commercial caught my eye.
A unattractive fellow coughed all day long, irritating his co-workers. Someone
offered him a cough drop and poof!,
he turned into a non-coughing hunk. A story popped/poofed! into my head. An ugly, bearded, beat up looking man rescues
a beautiful woman from danger. Hint: he cleans up nicely.
Here's the blurb to Her Hero:
Rowdy Pierce-warrior. Sara Stewart-artist.
Macho mercenary rescues posh jewelry designer. Their lives collide in an
spectacular rescue and escape across the Egyptian desert. Sara falls for her
sexy, body-to-die-for hero and makes the first move. Rowdy, fascinated by the
luscious, sweet-bodied, free-spirited woman he saved, takes what Sara offers.
He doesn’t expect to lose his heart. Will their lust turn to something deeper
back in the real world?
And an R-rated excerpt
“Not here.”
“Where?” His voice was an
embarrassing breathless, husky whisper.
“My office…big couch.”
“Thank you, Lord.” He swept
her up—he loved doing that—charged through the doorway to her office, kicked
the door shut, and dropped her down on the sofa. The little devil lay there
beaming up at him with those blue eyes, not looking icy at all. Rowdy knelt
beside the couch. “Take this off,” he ordered as he pulled her sweater and tank
top all the way off over her head.
“Sonofabitch.” His breath
caught in his throat. He was afraid his heart would stop.
“You don’t like it?”
Her falsely innocent question
kicked it back in. “Like?” he gasped. Glancing at her pleased expression, he
dragged his gaze back to her breathtaking breasts. His tiny feminine side
appreciated that her bra was spectacular, the colors shimmering into each other,
the lace barely covering her. But he could give a shit. The huge masculine side
wanted to taste the soft, cushiony skin, preferably…now. He lowered his head
and sucked her nipple between his teeth.
She responded with a sharp
cry.
Right through the lace, he
rocked it, lashing the tip with his tongue.
She twisted and surged, her
fingers in his hair, gripping his head. “The other one,” she begged with little
kitten-like mews.
He was a good boy; he did as
he was told. With a final nip, he lifted his head and whispered, “The jeans.”
She nodded frantically. “Uh
huh…”
He slid them down her long,
beautiful legs, right off over the sexy stilettos. “Fuck.” The panties matched
her bra, blonde pussy hair peeping through the lace over her mound. “Jesus,
sweetheart, you’re killin’ me,” he groaned. “Long legs, sexy underwear, and
stilettos? I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
Sara groaned. Her chest rose
and fell sharply. “I want you inside me now. Slow later,” she ordered, gripping
the front of his shirt.
“Yes, ma’am.” He stood,
divested himself of his shirt, boots, and jeans, and after peeling her out of
her bra and panties, knelt between her thighs on the cushions. “Leave the shoes
on,” he commanded. He didn’t give a crap if those spikes scratched his ass to
ribbons.
“Rowdy, I want you…now.” She
clutched his arms, pulling him toward her.
###
Passion/Retribution/Love
The background
Several years ago, I
tried a NaNoWriMo. NaNo is write a
50,000 word book in a month. It's
usually held in November of every year, but now there are NaNos in other
months. I divided 50,000 by 30 days to
get 1,667 words to be written every day to meet the goal. In NaNo, you write flat out without any
self-editing. JUST WRITE! I finished with 2 days to spare. Whew.
The inspiration for
this was the cutest coach house I passed by every day on my walk. I love dollhouses and although this was a
full size house, it was still tiny but just the right size for one person. So, I had a home, now I needed
characters. A Chicago actress and a
Chicago cop seemed interesting. Then I
had to brainstorm names. I tend to come
up quickly with names so Sam Bolt and Liz Aspen were born.
After expansion, the
book became Undercover Lover and was
published by Siren. I have the rights
back, renamed it, and gave it a new cover.
Here's the blurb forPassion/Retribution/Love:Free spirited actress Liz Aspen can't
resist masturbating to
the fantasy of her gorgeous, hunky next door neighbor. If he were only there in
the bedroom with her, she wouldn't need Mr. Fake-Nine-Inch-Cock. Sam Bolt, loner and secretive
undercover cop, gets an eyeful when he accidentally spies on his neighbor from
his window to hers. It's a shame what she's doing to herself—when he could do
it much better!
Their lives entwine when he saves her life, but she's in
further danger when his past meets his present. Sam hates the pain he's caused,
but can't stay away from her. He craves the promise of a normal life with a
soft, willing woman like Liz who doesn't have to fight torturously dark demons.
Addicted to his powerful lovemaking, Liz finds him as compelling as she is
confused by the mystery of what he's not telling her.
Will she still love him when he finally tells her the whole
truth? Can Sam accept that his past actions don't need to destroy a future with
a woman who has proven her strength—emotionally and physically?
Excerpt
Liz has been taken hostage by
Sam's enemy.
She survived the danger inside
her house but
now they're outside the front
door
surrounded by cops and
emergency workers…
"Enough of this chit chat. We're
coming out. That SUV'd better be in position, or she's dead right now, right in
front of you." Dominguez slid his left arm around her neck and squeezed,
forcing her toward the door.
Liz jerked and fought, afraid of
passing out, this time from the
pressure of his arm around her neck. Flashing stars danced in her vision, and
she couldn't get a deep breath. Dominguez held her upright, because he needed
her as a shield. He opened the front door, and before stepping out, transferred
his gun from the hand at her neck back to his right hand.
The bright lights blinded her. She
turned her head away. Giant spotlights shone glaringly on the house. A dozen
police cars, fire engines, and ambulances, all with their lights flashing,
dotted the street. A helicopter droned ominously above them. If she'd been
scared before, this was worse. Soon everything would be all over. Either she'd
be dead now or dead later out in the country. In no way did she believe he'd
let her go.
The police ranged haphazardly in front
of them, the SUV close, driver's side door yawning open and waiting. She did
not want to get in there. Closing her eyes, she prayed whatever happened would
happen fast. He held the gun to her temple. The cold metal felt savage against
her skin. She was defenseless with her hands taped behind her back.
Open
your eyes, Liz. Look at me. Look at me, baby.
In her head. The words were in her
head. At first they didn't mean anything, just low sounds beneath all the other
noise.
Look
at me.
Sam.
Liz,
baby, open your eyes.
She cranked her eyes open a slit,
saw the thick arm cloaked in dark wool imprisoning her neck. Her lashes lifted,
she let her gaze roam under the level of the lights, the cops, the cop cars,
back down to the arm restraining her. These might be the last things she ever
saw… A strange peace took over. It was out of her control.
Look
at me, love. Look away from him. Look at me.
She didn't think she could be any
more terrified. If she died, could she do it with dignity? Did that even
matter? Sam. She found his face in the crowd, their eyes locked. He was so
beautiful, the sweet and sensual memories came back to her. Tears rolled down
her cheeks.
She gagged but was too frightened
to moan. She wanted to scream and never stop but was too terrified to make a
sound. She lost Sam in the crowd. Her gaze flicked desperately from face to
face. It looked like a scene from a movie. A scene out of a nightmare. Surely
this many people could save her. She struggled, testing his hold.
Dominguez tightened his arm across
her throat, the gun's mouth lethal on her forehead.
There, she found Sam again. The
blades of the helicopter still thwapped overhead, and the police radios still
squawked. Everyone waited for Dominguez to make his move. She wished something
would happen. Just to get it over with.
###
Besides loving these
two stories, I've discovered the pleasures of making my own covers. The Jimmy
Thomas site romancenovelcovers.com has been a gold mine of possibilities for
me. I've used pre-made covers from that site, and now I've begun buying stock
images and adding my own title and author name. I've also used iStock.com and periodimages.com. My covers are simple, but I think pretty
effective. Her Hero's cover is
downright scorching hot. My
eyeballs are smiling.
About me
Sensual
fantasies were locked in my mind for years until a friend said, "Why don't
you write them down?" Why not, indeed? One spiral notebook, a pen and the
unleashing of my imagination later, and here I am with more than a dozen books
published. The craft of writing erotic romance has become my passion and my
niche in life. I love every part of the creative process—developing characters,
designing the plot, even drawing the layout of physical spaces from my stories.
My careers have been varied—third grade school teacher, bookkeeper, secretary—none
of which gave me a bit of inspiration. But now I'm lucky enough to write
romance full time—the best job in the universe! And I'm fortunate enough to
have found my own happily ever after husband.
Jane Leopold Quinn
My Romance: Love With a Scorching Sensuality
***
My Books
Indie
Siren
Ellora's Cave
