Today I welcome feature author Iris Deorre

Welcome to the blog Iris, tell us about yourself.

I’m not only an Author but also an Entrepreneur.  I love to write erotic stories, weaving difficult love triangles with exciting and daring sex. I love to mix erotica with paranormal. You’ll find Shapeshifters, werewolves, vampires, to name a few in my work.  I also love writing short gay and lesbian stories, just to give a taste of my work.  I’m also a reader, at the moment I’m reading Sophie Hannah’s book Little Face.  I love to read, books that I’ve really enjoyed have been Dracula, Wuthering Heights and insomnia. I tend to read anything and everything; I’m not particularly drawn to one genre of books.

When I’m not writing or lost in reading a book, I’m a single mum to one lovely girl. We spend time taking long walks, chatting about girly stuff, attending endless kids parties and looking after our pet hamster. When I’m not spending time with my daughter you will find me spending time with good friends and good wine!  

Iris is featuring her book The Trouble with love is.....

Sydney and Phoebe are having relationship trouble. Things had been great for years up until Ryan Scott arrived on the scene.

Ryan is Sydney’s new boss. He’s been called in to shake things up at their magazine in the Leeds office. Sydney had been weary about having a new boss. She hadn’t had a promotion in years and she felt that the new boss would be a set back to her progress. But Ryan is different and has a different agenda for Sydney.

At first Sydney finds him hard to read. He seems so serious and uptight. But as time goes by and she spends more time by his side; Sydney begins to feel things for him she’d buried and tried to forget a long time ago.

Read an excerpt:

‘So…ladies, three weeks in, any progress? Anything you would like to share? Talk about... Sydney? The therapist looked at me. Her voice suddenly sounded like a loud speaker.
I often zoned her out at these sessions and guessing by the tone of her voice she knew that. Her voice sounded like a busy little bee. It was so high pitched and she always seemed to be talking extremely fast.  I found it quite irritating, why I hadn’t quit these sessions after the first one was still a mystery to me.
I knew I was wasting everyone’s time but I wasn’t bold enough to speak the truth.  I wasn’t bold enough to tell the truth about the real reason we were in therapy. 
‘Sydney?’ Her voice filtered through my inner voice again and my toes curled. I smiled politely and turned to Phoebe who was in a fit of tears. When had that happened? Where had I been? I gazed at her confused.
‘You see what I mean! I talk and she closes up!’ She sniffed and then looked at me. Her eyes were blood shot, bits of dark black hair were pasted to her cheeks.  She looked so unattractive. She had no idea that the more she pushed for information, the more it made me withdraw.
‘Sydney, would you like to say something?’  The therapist asked. She sounded just like a mother would. Her voice was soft and full of concern. I smiled slightly at the thought of mum. I missed her; she would have known what to do in this situation. She was always vibrant and excited about life. I remembered asking why she’d chosen to name me Sydney.  Her response was always the same. She’d met a tall dark stranger on her trek around the world and they made sweet passionate love and made me. They had spent exactly two nights together in Sydney and then they both went their separate ways. My father doesn’t even know I exist!
‘I could feel it!’ she’d say. ‘I just knew there and then that I was pregnant.’ She’d then take a puff of a cigarette.  Mum never seemed to be bothered by it; she wasn’t bothered that a few months later she had to cut her trip around the world short to prepare to be a mother. Mum never seemed to be bothered by anything. She took life as it came and smoked her way through forty a day. It never bugged her when I told her about my sexual confusion.
‘Wherever the wind blows my love, always make sure you’re heart is happy!’
I wished I could take that advice, but I knew very well what that would do to Phoebe. It would just destroy her. I looked at her again and then back at our therapist.
‘I don’t know what to say…I wish I did…I wish I was…’
‘You wish you were what?’
‘I wish my mother were here!’ I blurted out unexpectedly.
This stopped Phoebe’s water works. I’m not sure if it was from the shock or that I had actually spoken during the session.
‘Because she would know what to do, she would know what to say. She’d tell me what to do,’ I said. ‘But she’s dead now and I have to do it myself.’ If there was one thing I would’ve changed about my mother; that would’ve been the smoking. She was perfect in every way except for the cigarettes that eventually rummaged her lungs to shreds. The cancer had advanced and there was nothing more the doctors could do.
‘If your mother were here, what would she say?’ asked the therapist.
Go wherever the wind carries you as long as it makes you happy. I smiled at the thought.
Phoebe looked at me and so did our therapist. The heat of their gaze made it impossible for me to say what I really wanted to say.
‘I’m not sure,’ I said finally. ‘I’m honestly not sure.’
Phoebe erupted into tears again.
‘I’m really sorry Phoebe. I just don’t know how this solves anything. I really need to work through this alone. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I’m really confused,’ I said.
‘This is progress,’ said the therapist.
Was this why we were paying forty pound an hour? For the stupid comments!
I smiled and placed my hand on Phoebe’s but she withdrew.
‘I know she’s hiding something from me, I just know it!’
With that statement the therapist looked up at the clock. It was time up and we would be back again the following week to make her pockets heavier and ours lighter.
‘I want you to try and give each other some breathing space.’
You don’t say!
‘And when Sydney is ready, she’ll feel safe enough to talk to you and let you in.’ She nodded at us encouragingly.
If only. I smiled and nodded.
‘So, same time next week?’
Phoebe wiped her eyes and looked at me. I nodded; what more could I do? I’d never felt this helpless in my life.
‘Yes, that will be fine,’ said Phoebe and the therapist scribbled on an appointment card.
‘Thank you!’ I said then got up to leave.
Phoebe followed behind in dead silence, walking into a future that was unknown to her but known to me. I knew what I had to do but it would take a lot more than therapy.

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You can find out more about Iris and her books on her blog,

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