A Stranger Within

Welcome to the blog and thanks so much for taking the time to join me. Tell us a little about your book.

A Stranger Within is a paranormal romance about a young woman who’s the human host of a powerful wolf demon. Throughout the novel, she struggles with fierce desires and bloodlust and wonders whether those feelings are her own or the wolf’s. She also falls in love with the man who’s assigned to guard her, but she’s afraid to act on those feelings, because when she gets aroused, she loses control over her inner wolf and starts to transform.

It’s a story about identity, about the shadow self, about coming to terms with the animal inside all of us.

What draws you to write paranormal fiction?

I’ve always liked paranormal fiction, as well as fantasy and sci-fi. All fiction is a “what if” scenario, and the speculative fiction genres take that a step further, into the realm of the unreal or things that might be. It allows for a lot of flexibility, too. You can create any kind of story and characters you want, as long as it makes sense on its own terms.

Do you have any tips for new writers?

Don’t give up. It might be a cliché, but it’s true. For a writer, the road to success is long and bumpy, and it takes perseverance to get there. Also, have fun! Write what you love, not what you think you “should” be writing. If you’re not enjoying it, the readers probably won’t either.

What is your own guilty pleasure?

I love erotic romance—both writing and reading it—but I try not to feel guilty about my pleasures. So I guess it’s a guilt-free pleasure.

Where can your readers reach you?

You can e-mail me at sekuiro@gmail.com. I love hearing back from my readers.

Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share?

I dreamed again that night.

I stood outside a dark cell in the stone labyrinth, staring in through the bars. Heavy breathing echoed through the silence. “Is someone there?” I called, my voice echoing in the stillness.

Bloodshot yellow eyes opened in the darkness, and I gave a start. “Hi, babe,” said a deep, raspy voice.

My pulse thrummed in my throat. “Who are you?” I asked, though I already knew.

He chuckled, a sound like metal scraping against stone. “I’m the other you. The real you.”

“No.” Panting, I shook my head in frantic denial. “You’re not me. You’re just the thing locked inside me.”

“Oh really?” Those yellow eyes stared into mine.

My hands squeezed into fists, nails digging into the meat of my palms. “Just because you’re in my head, that doesn’t make you me. I’m not anything like you.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Sharp teeth gleamed in a grin. “You and I, we actually have a lot in common. I should know. I know you better than anyone in the world. All the others—they only see what you show them. But I know what’s slithering around in that deep dark pit at the bottom of your mind. I know all the things you’re afraid to tell anyone else.”

I wanted to run away, but I couldn’t. Something rooted my feet to the spot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but you do. You just won’t admit it, not even to yourself. But I know. Deep down, you’re a real animal.”

“I’m not an animal!”

He laughed. Claws scraped against the bars, throwing off sparks. “You don’t want me here, do you? You hate being just a cage. So let me out. You have the key.”

“No!” I squeezed my eyes shut, like a child thinking that something I couldn’t see couldn’t hurt me. Of course, I knew better.

“Come on, babe.” His voice turned low and smooth. Seductive. “All you have to do is open this door. Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to just let go?”

I backed away, hands pressed over my ears. I stumbled—

—and all at once, the dream shifted. It was dark, and I was in bed, and there was someone with me. Warm, rough hands were wrapped around my wrists, pinning them down. A hard body was atop mine, and someone was moving inside me, iron heat thrusting into the melting warmth between my thighs. I arched upward, hungry for more. I didn’t know who it was. I didn’t care. I just wanted to keep fucking. Each thrust sent ripples of heat through my body, making me weak with pleasure. A mouth was on my breast, sucking my nipple. It was too hard—it almost hurt—but at the same time, it wasn’t enough.

“You see?” a voice in my head whispered. It sounded like my own. “We’re all animals.”

* * * *

My eyes snapped open, and I sat bolt upright in bed, panting.
Outside the window, wind whistled through the pines. Shadows and moonlight rippled across the ceiling as the treetops lashed.

I flopped back onto the bed and lay there, my heart thumping against my ribs. Sweat trickled down my neck. What the hell had that been all about? Somehow, the last part of the dream had disturbed me the most—even though it had felt good. Because it felt good. My whole body still tingled, and my skin felt acutely, almost painfully sensitive. I touched one nipple and felt it, stiff and aching, through the thin cotton of my oversized pajama t-shirt.

After a minute or two, I took a deep, shaky breath, climbed out of bed and dressed. My fingers trembled so badly I could hardly button up my jeans. I pulled on an old, faded t-shirt, walked to the window and peered out. A storm was brewing. Dark clouds blotted out the stars and moon.

I thought about Fenrir’s eyes—those crazed, bloodshot yellow eyes—and shuddered. Then I remembered the hard male body moving atop mine, the long, thick cock buried inside me. I shook my head. Fenrir was just trying to fuck with my mind...literally. Maybe when Dr. Gray trained me to control the wolf, she could teach me some way to stop the dreams. But something in me balked at the idea of telling her—or anyone—about that particular dream. It was too personal, too weird.

My sex still ached distractingly. I had a feeling if I slipped a finger inside myself, I’d find myself wet. After that, there was no way I’d be able to get back to sleep. Maybe I’d go for a walk. Right now, any distraction from my thoughts would be welcome.

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Do you work on one project at a time or multiples?

Usually I work on several things at once. If I’m having trouble with a story, I find it helps to take a break from it and work on something else for awhile. Of course, this can lead to juggling a lot of different projects.

Are your characters a reflection on you or anyone you know?

All my characters have something of me in them, but only in a vague sense. I’ve never based characters directly on myself or anyone I know. I’d feel really weird writing about people from my own life.

If you were a supernatural creature, what would you like to be and why?
Probably some kind of shapeshifter. I like the idea of being able to experience the world through an animal’s senses.

What is the easiest and hardest thing about writing?

I get more ideas than I could ever possibly write. Coming up with ideas is the easy part. It takes so much time and effort to turn that vision into a reality. Choosing which ideas to spend that time and effort on is always difficult, because there’s so much I want to do and never enough time.

Do you find love scenes difficult to write?

Writing sex is easy, but writing an interesting, convincing love scene can be very difficult. If a writer doesn’t develop her characters enough, the sex can come across as mechanical and dull: insert tab A into slot B, et cetera. Bringing the characters’ emotions and personality into the scene is crucial, and what makes it worthwhile for the readers.