Tell us a little about yourself
Em Petrova lives in backwoods Pennsylvania, where she raises four kids and a Labradoodle puppy named Daisy Hasselhoff and pays too damn much for utilities. She loves to write gritty characters with lots of heart and is well-known for scorching, panty-soaking erotic romance.
What books have you brought along to tell us about today?
Smoldering Hearts http://www.ellorascave.com/smoldering-hearts.html
Are you working on another book right now?
Yes, book 2 of the Boot Knockers Series from Samhain Publishing. Book 1, Pushin’ Buttons, releases in May 2014. Book 2, Body Language, releases in September. Both are set on a ranch in Texas that caters to women. *wink*
What do you enjoy most about writing? It’s the best job in the world. Not a day goes by that I don’t count my blessings. I’m able to be home with my 4 elementary school-aged kids and my fluffy baby Daisy, using my creativity. Oh, and I get to research a lot of dirty things…
What do you like the least? Nothing really. But if you dig deep I might confess I hate filling out marketing forms for new books.
Would you like to see any of your books as movies?
Somethin’ Dirty is a prime book to movie. Lifetime or HBO here we come!
Can you name any actors you would like to see as the lead characters in your book.
Joe Manganiello from True Blood is who I had in mind while writing Griffin’s character.
What things do you like to do to relax?
Drink heavily. No, kidding. I love to kickbox, walk or just veg out in front of a tattoo reality show.
Do you have another job as well as writing?
I do freelance editing and edit for 2 small publishers. I also do marketing for 2 small publishers.
If you could have one super power in your existence, what would it be?
The ability to grow longer legs. I’m 4’11”.
If money were not an object, where would you most like to live?
I’d live in an RV and drive from town to town across the country, meeting people and learning about them.
What kind of car would you have if money was no object?
A 1960s, beat-up pickup truck. Yes, it’s true, folks. Preferably white.
What’s your favorite food?
Blue-green. But I can’t wear it without looking like a zombie.
Can you think of a song or piece of music that could be your theme tune?
Survival by Eminem. I love it to pieces.
Just answer these questions as quickly as possible.
Chocolate or vanilla?----- chocolate!
Dog or cat?---- doggy
The film or the book?----- errmmmm. So hard. Book.
Jeans or suit? jeans
jeans or skirt?skirt
Beach or Snow resort? I’m cringing at both. Neither?
Boots or sneakers? Cowgirl boots!
Heels or flats? Heels—I’m too short for flats.
What do you love best about yourself? My hair
What do you like least? belly after 5 babies
Is there a question you would like to have been asked? Best part of my job is talking to readers.
Do you have anything to share with other authors that might be a help? Don’t give up, and don’t stay on the same path. Mix it up.
Is there anything you would like to say to your readers? LOVE YOU!
Can you share one of your favorite parts of one of the books?
Nola’s mind lost track of Molly’s words. Everything around her vanished but those two dark eyes pinning her down.
A movement from Molly snapped her out of it. She looked up in time to see her sister had raised her glass in greeting to Mr. Thigh-Clenchingly Hot.
She wrapped her fingers around Molly’s arm. “What the hell are you doing? Don’t draw his attention.”
“Why not? Have you scored in the past six months? You’ve gotta be feeling the weight of that stare, sis. Why not invite him onto the dance floor?”
“No, I—” She glanced up to see him pull away from the wall and make his way across the floor. “Oh fuck. Now look what you’ve done!”
She tried to duck and run into the masses, but Molly hooked a boot around her shin and sent her careening off-balance. Her beer sloshed over the floor, spattering the boots of some dancers.
“So sorry,” she mouthed, her voice lost in the stampede of boots and the cry of appreciation as someone took the microphone for an old Hank Williams song.
Two long, denim-clad legs slid into her vision. She followed the lines up, up, up to the thick chest sporting the white and gray western shirt. And hell, the fabric had a small embroidered flower design next to the pearl buttons.
A man who wore embroidery was very comfortable in his skin. Not a boy. A man.
If she’d had any question about this, she didn’t now as she stared into his face. Small lines framed his eyes and lips, and a few threads of silver wove through his beard.
“Wanna dance?” He offered a hand to her, and she gaped at it for two heartbeats.
Before she could think, Molly had divested her of her beer. Then her sister shoved her from behind, and Nola jerked forward. Taking her movement as acceptance, Mr. Thigh-Clenchingly Hot wrapped his fingers around hers and tugged her onto the floor.
Before she could suck in air, she was whipped into his embrace. When she did, she filled her head with his personal musk—man and clean soap. Leather.
He was smiling at her. She returned it, then gave a laugh and dropped her gaze.
He leaned in. “I’m Griffin. And before you ask, this is the first dance I’ve had in over a year. So don’t laugh at my jumbled up feet.”
How could she remain aloof to that? Everything about him charmed the pants—or mini-skirt—right off her.
“I’m Nola.” She inhaled deeply and didn’t catch a hint of beer or whiskey on him. “You’re not drinking tonight?”
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Nah. I’m a designated driver. Love to help out the cause and my ma has the—” He bit off the rest of the sentence with a shake of his head. “My ma taught me to give back to the community.”
For several heartbeats, she lost herself in his deep, chocolate gaze. God, were those golden flecks in his eyes? And the creases around each corner enhanced the image that he perpetually squinted into the sun or smiled. Or both.
“Crowded in here,” she said a little breathlessly. The bodies hemming her in tighter to Griffin were unwelcome. Weren’t they?
Damn, she needed to get away from him, and fast. One more upward quirk of his mouth and she’d be wearing a wedding band and apron.
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