Thursday, July 14, 2016

SJ Smith ~ an interview and his novel House of Fox

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SJ Smith


SJ Smith is a neurotic recluse who lives in North Wales. It has long been his dream to become a full time filth monger.

Q: Are you a morning person, or a midnight candle burner?
A:  I seem to be a morning person at the moment, although that’s more down to insomnia than choice. Think I’ve been awake to see the sun rise at 3:30am every day this week.

Q: Tell me something you would like your readers (fans) to know about you.
A:  I’m recently separated from my wife, and am thoroughly single. Any ladies out there wanting a hatful of the good stuff, then I’m your man.

Q: When you think of a garden, do you picture vegetables or flowers?
A: A mixture of both. I believe it’s called complementary planting – the flowers help keep the pests away from the veg. Like, marigolds draw in hoverflies which eat greenfly. I’m full of useless information like that.

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:  Sleep is a precious commodity right now. I tend to stick something terrible on Netflix on at night and hope it will bore me into a coma.


Q: Where do you get your ideas?
A:  A combination of dreams and an overactive imagination. I spend lots of time on my own, so my mind tends to wander.

Q: How did you come to write your genera of choice?
A:  The stories I write have always been full of filth, albeit filth written from a humorous point of view rather than a sensual one. I gravitated into erotica because I figured it was the only way anyone would ever want to read the kind of perverse stuff I come up with, although in truth my stuff doesn’t really fit the traditional erotica mould.

Q: Do you write long hand first, or does it go straight into the computer?
A:  I have a notebook that I scribble ideas down in, but generally speaking all my work is done on the computer.

Q: Do you always know how a story will end when you begin writing it?
A: Not at all. Sometimes I don’t even have a clue what the plot is going to be, I just start writing and let the characters develop the story as I go along. The House of Fox was largely improvised one day at a time with no idea what was going to happen next. It’s a chaotic method of writing, but it’s fun too.


Q: What are you working on now? Would you like to share anything about it?
A:  I’m supposed to be working on House of Fox 2 – The Girl with the Golden Vag – but with all the craziness going on in my life of late, I haven’t really paid as much attention to that project as I should have. Hopefully things will start to settle down and I’ll be able to write again soon.

Q: Do you have a new book coming out soon? Tell us about it.
A:  The House of Fox is a crazy, sex packed tale about four friends who find themselves trapped in the ultimate brothel in the universe, where hedonism and perversion are everyday activities. It’s a rather surreal and humorous book and I’m very proud of it.
It’s the second novel of mine to be released in the space of a fortnight, following hot on the heels of Leisure. It’s been quite a busy time of late.

After a drunken night on the town, four friends awake to find themselves in the House of Fox, the ultimate brothel in the universe, where every sordid fantasy becomes reality.

But all is not as it seems.
The House of Fox harbours many dark secrets, and factions are plotting against one another.

The four newcomers must choose their friends carefully and take care not to lose their minds on the thrill ride of perversion that will carry them to the ends of the Earth and beyond.

The Great Voyeur in the Sky is watching . . .

“God, look at the pair of them. They’re so fucking boring.”

Kitty was watching the live feed from the video camera; grainy, blue tinged footage on a fat backed TV.

“Like, any sane woman would’ve been bouncing on Dylan’s cock the minute she stepped through the door. But oh no, not little miss goody two shoes Donna; she’d never lower herself into doing anything quite so lowbrow.”

Jane, who was standing behind, massaging Kitty’s shoulders, nodded in full agreement.

“You know what? I’ll take great pleasure in throwing her to the flames. It’s no more than the dismal bitch deserves.” Kitty grabbed the clipboard and updated the dossier, scrawling nothing happening in the relevant box. “And here’s me damn fool enough to think pulling watch duty on that pair might prove fun.”

“Things may hot up… eventually,” Jane offered.

“Are you kidding? That bitch is so frigid she could raise penguins in her asshole.” Kitty swivelled around in her office chair and trapped Jane’s legs between her knees. “Fuck ‘em. Let’s get back to the game. Now remind me, honey pie, what was the score again?”

“Four all.” Jane shook her head, gutted at having squandered a four-nil lead.

“Then it’s time for the big decider.” Kitty’s beaming smile lit up Jane’s world. “What do you think? The loser has to do the next five hours’ watch?”

“Let’s do it.” Jane strutted up to the mound, confident she could pull this off.

Kitty sat back in her chair and spread her legs wide, hanging her knees over either armrest. She licked her fingertip, parted her pussy lips and pushed three ping-pong balls up her cunt. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Jane nodded. She steeled herself in preparation, and tightened her grip on the spank paddle.

Kitty pulled a face and thrust her hips, and a ping-pong ball flew clean out of her quim at high velocity and came arcing across the office. Jane swung the paddle, but missed by six inches. The ball sailed by and bounced off the coffee machine.

“Strike one,” Kitty yelled.

“Goddamnit.” Jane rolled out her shoulders to loosen them, and adopted the stance once again. “Ready.”

A second ping-pong ball flew from between Kitty’s love lips, this time on a much lower trajectory. Jane swung and caught the ball a glancing blow off the rim of the paddle, sending it straight downwards, where it ricocheted off the floor and bounced several times before dribbling to a pathetic stop between her feet.

“Strike two,” Kitty yelled. “The game now rests on this one final delivery. Will she step up to be a hero or will she fold under the pressure?”

“This time.” Jane was focussed now. She took a few practice swings before crouching sideways on. “Ready.” She would not miss – she knew it.

The third ball, glistening with pussy juice, came spinning toward her, and she saw its flightpath almost in slow motion. She swung the paddle, catching the ball flush in the face, and sent it hurtling out through the open door into the corridor. “Home run,” she squealed, and danced a celebratory jig. “I win, I win.”

“Pah, you got lucky,” Kitty sneered.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. I won thanks to my natural ability at the game.”

The game – which they had been playing for the best part of two days – was called either Pussy Ping-Pong or Beaver Baseball; they still hadn’t made a final decision as to which they liked better. It had superseded ‘What’s the most unusual thing you can shove up your ass?’ which Kitty had won by successfully ramming a signed, first edition of Oliver Twist into her brown eye.

Q: How can we find you? Do you have a web page, FaceBook page or any buy links?
Twitter - @jsmithauthor

The House of Fox buy links:

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: Yes, courtesy of Writer Marketing Services. Blogs and dates are here:



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Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here:

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