Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Elizabeth Coldwell ~ an interview and her novel ~ One Night in Brussels

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Elizabeth Coldwell


Q: Are you a morning person, or a midnight candle burner?
A: Mornings, definitely – I turn into a pumpkin if I stay up past midnight. But when it comes to writing, the time when I’m most productive is the afternoon, though I have no idea why.

Q: If you could morph into any creature what would it be?
A: A domestic cat.
            If you don’t mind me asking, why?   
A: They have the best lifestyle – or at least the two I have do. Sleeping most of the day, being fed, pampered and indulged... Who wouldn’t want that? As the saying goes, cats don’t have owners, they have staff.

Q: Bedtime, relaxing so you can sleep sounds. Is your preference, white noise, TV, soft music, ocean waves, forest or meadow sounds, babbling brook, or something else?
 A: I can’t have any noise if I’m trying to sleep. The room has to be very dark and very quiet. And even though I’m not really a believer in aromatherapy, a good spray of a nicely scented pillow mist always helps.

Q: What kind of music do you listen to? Do you have an all time favorite song?
A: My musical tastes are deeply unfashionable. Big, pompous rock music is my genre of choice. All-time favourite song would be Asia’s ‘Only Time Will Tell’. Finally getting to see the original line-up perform it live on their reunion tour would probably be my gig-going highlight.


Q: When did you start writing and why?
A: I wrote my first book on a school trip to France when I was about ten. My parents still have it in a drawer at home. I started writing fiction seriously when I first started working for ‘Forum’ in the late 1980s. The then editor challenged all the editorial team to write an erotic short story for the magazine, and I was the only one who ever finished mine. Luckily, it was good enough to be published and I haven’t looked back.

Q: Where do you get your ideas?
A: All manner of places. Conversations, dreams, music videos… Sometimes a title pops into my head, other times it’s the first or last line of a story, and I start working from there.

Q: Your favorite title?
A: I wrote a short story about a couple of friends who end up having a threesome with a traffic policeman. I called it ‘Two Girls, One Cop’.

Q: What geographical locations are your favorite and why?
A: I like the Low Countries (the Netherlands and Belgium). Amsterdam is a city I love and it’s inspired a novel (‘The Pride of Amsterdam’), a novella (‘Stud to Go’) and a couple of short stories. Belgium’s fascinating because it has a divide between the French and Flemish speaking areas, and it has these quaint areas that don’t seem to have altered much since mediaeval times.


Q: What are you working on now? Would you like to share anything about it?
A: My current WIP is a novel about a shifter detective, set in the 1940s. I studied noir fiction a long time ago at university, and it’s an interesting mindset to get into. Oh, and did I mention that it’s an MM story?

Q: How can we find you? Do you have a web page, FaceBook page or any buy links?
A: You can find me at The (Really) Naughty Corner (http://elizabethcoldwell.wordpress.com) and Goodreads (http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2896146.Elizabeth_Coldwell)

Q: Are you currently participating in a blog tour? If you are let’s tell everyone where you’re going to be so they can catch up with you again.
A: (If you have the URLS and the dates I can put them here)

Yesterday I was at LC Wilkinson’s blog (http://lcwilkinson.com/), talking about One Night In Brussels, and you can find me at the following places over the next few days.
4th November, Lily Harlem (http://lilyharlem.blogspot.com/)
5th November, KD Grace (http://kdgrace.co.uk/)
6th November Pick A Genre Already (http://pickagenrealready.blogspot.ca/)

Saskia van Gaal works as a translator for the European Commission, dreaming of a life filled with excitement and hot sex. When she bumps into suave, sexy Englishman, Dominic May, and offers to be his tour guide in the beautiful city of Brussels, she doesn't realise she's about to embark on the wildest night of her life.

A stolen necklace is only the beginning of the adventure, and when Dominic and Saskia are threatened by a knife-wielding robber, things threaten to spiral out of control. Has Saskia misjudged Dominic? Should she trust him? And as their sex games grow hotter and ever more inventive, can she ever guess how this night will end? 


“I want you to undress for me, Saskia.”

His voice holds a low, commanding tone—one that compels her to obey. With her back to him, she can’t see his face, but it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need to know his name, his profession, his favourite foods or any of the mundane details on which relationships are formed. This is to be one night of shared bliss, and nothing more. They will give each other perfect satisfaction then go their separate ways, taking only their memories with them.

She pulls the zip of her tight-fitting black dress all the way down, then pushes the thin straps off her shoulders. From the view she’s presenting to him, he’ll be aware she isn’t wearing a bra, but she’ll tease him a moment longer before letting him see her full, bare breasts. By the time she’s naked she wants him so hard his erection will be threatening to burst the zip of his faded jeans.

The dress slithers to her feet and she steps out of it. She stands in only a pair of thong-backed panties that leave most of her bottom cheeks exposed, and tall black come-fuck-me heels. She’s tempted to sneak a glance over her shoulder to see whether he’s stroking himself through his clothing. Excitement ripples through her at the thought that she’s already got him so excited he needs to play with his cock.

“Oh, that’s nice,” he murmurs.

Saskia assumes he’s talking about her barely clad bum and gives it a saucy wiggle. “You like it?”

“I love it. But you need to lose those panties, too, sweetheart.”

She feigns coyness, hooking her fingers into the waistband of her underwear and pulling them down a fraction before stopping, as though she’s gone as far as she’s prepared to. The idea that he might leap from the bed and rip the flimsy garment clean off her body has her juices flowing and her rosy nipples stiffening into peaks. But he seems content to stay where he is, happy with the show she’s putting on for him.

When she cups her mound through her panties, heat radiates through the wet fabric. She bends forward a little way and slides her hand lower, pressing it into the seam of her swollen lips. He has to be able to see her fingertips peeping from between the gap in her widely parted thighs, touching herself in the place he must ache to, and it feels so deliciously rude to torment him like this.

“Oh, you dirty little minx,” he groans.

There’s a harsh rasp as his zip comes down and now she’s sure he has himself in hand. She risks a peek and her suspicions are proved right. He’s easing his big fist slowly up and down his length. His eyes are half-closed and his head rests on the pillows piled high against the wrought iron bedstead.

To the steady rhythm of his palm slapping against his cock, Saskia eases her underwear all the way down. Then she turns round and throws the damp scrap of silk in his direction. She doesn’t know which of them is the more surprised when he catches them in his free hand without missing a stroke with the other.

He puts the panties to his nose, breathing in Saskia’s scent. “Come here, gorgeous,” he growls, and she does.

She yearns to sink down on the fat, upstanding column of flesh he’s gripping so tightly, but he appears to have other things in mind.

“Lie down,” he orders her, climbing off the bed so she can take the place he’s vacated. He undresses in haste, letting his jeans slide off his slim hips. He isn’t wearing anything beneath them, and once his T-shirt is peeled off, he’s as naked as she is. She can’t help but notice he has no tan lines, and she pictures him relaxing in the nude on a sheltered sun terrace, or maybe some secluded beach, letting his skin turn that gorgeous shade of honey-gold.

“I’ve got a treat for you,” he tells her.

When she looks in his direction, he’s picked up a small bottle with a vaguely Aztec design on its label.

“Massage oil.” He runs his hand through his dark hair. “A blend designed for pure erotic pleasure…”

Buy links:

Elizabeth Coldwell is a multi-published author and the former editor of the UK edition of Forum magazine, where she was responsible for publishing a number of now very well-known authors for the first time, as well as honing her own writing.

She lives in East London, is a season ticket holder at Rotherham United and a keen cook. Her recipe for peanut butter brownies is available if you ask nicely…

You can find her at The (Really) Naughty Corner (http://elizabethcoldwell.wordpress.com) and Goodreads (http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2896146.Elizabeth_Coldwell)

I’m happy you could join me on Books and Banter. 
Thanks for asking me. I’ve had a great time.

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